MINYA
take that look from off your face
you ain't gunna burn my heart out
you ain't gunna burn my heart out
Gold. Within her glass, upon her lips it paints and gleams and chinks in chains that hang from her crimson antlers. Antlers that shine as silk and glitter like a crown studded with gems. Gold is the liquid that pours like an elixir down her throat. Gold is the drink that pools in her stomach and burns her throat.
Copper is the flesh that gleams upon the leonine girl that watches Minya drink. Ah, yes, Minya is the fire dancer. Still she feels the lick of flame across her skin, still she feels the edges of her cold heart soften, but never melt. All of her is soft and warm. Every inch of this girl is pliable silk beneath the lights and glittering gold of the White Scarab. All of her is warm sand and real smiles as she dances in bells and frayed cloth in the bottom of the dustbowl desert. In her ears are the rattle of carts, even as her gems chime their lavish overlay tune.
Her soul shudders with longing for day, yet she turns her gaze with a wicked smile upon the lioness. Claws are in her skin, they dig deep, they taunt her with pain and remind her of the lioness’ dance. From beneath her heaves lashes, dusted with gems, she stares the stranger down with lunar eyes, midnight cold.
“Of course.” She answers, shifting, the dim lights lighting upon her scarab tattoo. It gleams bright and lavish at the top of her thigh. Eyes are upon her, they lick like flames across her skin. Their heat warms her flesh, ghosting as this night’s fires had.
She takes a breath, incense and alcohol full. Her stone skin gleams, it ripples like lava. A smile curls at her lips and now she is the leonine one with a mouth as sharp as fangs and a tongue eager for first blood. “In Solterra.” The fire-girl muses. “Where flames are at their hottest.” Slowly she lifts her gaze, as if coy, but of when they settle upon Boudika’s red, it is only blood that flows between them. “I can show you one day if you would like?” Insincerity dances slow and toying between them. It laughs in the edges of Minya’s tightly drawn lips. It resonates in her bones that still resound with the tribal beat of a lioness’ music.
“It won’t burn, much.”
@Boudika| "speaks" | notes: eee <3
@Boudika| "speaks" | notes: eee <3
