At the beginning of the day, they were small gods.
When Fable flies overhead and the soldiers scream, he does not hear the sound of retribution. He only hears fear, basal and familiar. (we're just animals in the end, all of us, no matter how we've spent our lives). The sound is not one of justice. The sound is violence, a song he knows too well, a secret madness etched on the inside of his skull, coiled in his DNA.
(a song that never and never seems to cease, not when he's looking for an ending, not even when he's not-looking. when will it ever end, and who will we be if it does?
Surely, not myself.)
The screams echo down the empty street, not unlike the chiming of a bell Eik once heard, and there is some small part of him that becomes... uprooted.
It doesn't matter. (right?) It's not the first or the last time a thing has come undone. Anyway, Isra fills the empty spaces with her seeds, her daggers, her fire. She takes root where ancient trees once stood and he welcomes her in without hesitation or fear or consideration for what the violence will make of their love, and vice versa.
At noon, they were scions of melancholy and retribution.
Words seemed to lose all worth between the two of them. It was thought and feel that drew them together, a primordial tug that ran far deeper than the patterns letters make. Her teeth on his hip, electric, an answer and more. "I need you," the words, the intent, quiver silver-blue in a place deeper than bone.
"I know."
All those roots nestled in him, they tremble and shake to an ancient beat, older even than violence. He squeezes them, pulls her deeper and deeper. His teeth grab at the base of her mane and he tugs her forward, playful and forceful, asking and commanding. He's known a fire like this but oh, never a hunger. Never a hunger like this. Would there ever be an end to it?
At the end of the day, no matter what we thought or believed of them, they were just animals.
And like an animal, he guides her through the doorway and into the crumbling shadows. With their animal skins and animal teeth and animal magic, there was nothing left to do but touch.
When Fable flies overhead and the soldiers scream, he does not hear the sound of retribution. He only hears fear, basal and familiar. (we're just animals in the end, all of us, no matter how we've spent our lives). The sound is not one of justice. The sound is violence, a song he knows too well, a secret madness etched on the inside of his skull, coiled in his DNA.
(a song that never and never seems to cease, not when he's looking for an ending, not even when he's not-looking. when will it ever end, and who will we be if it does?
Surely, not myself.)
The screams echo down the empty street, not unlike the chiming of a bell Eik once heard, and there is some small part of him that becomes... uprooted.
It doesn't matter. (right?) It's not the first or the last time a thing has come undone. Anyway, Isra fills the empty spaces with her seeds, her daggers, her fire. She takes root where ancient trees once stood and he welcomes her in without hesitation or fear or consideration for what the violence will make of their love, and vice versa.
At noon, they were scions of melancholy and retribution.
Words seemed to lose all worth between the two of them. It was thought and feel that drew them together, a primordial tug that ran far deeper than the patterns letters make. Her teeth on his hip, electric, an answer and more. "I need you," the words, the intent, quiver silver-blue in a place deeper than bone.
"I know."
All those roots nestled in him, they tremble and shake to an ancient beat, older even than violence. He squeezes them, pulls her deeper and deeper. His teeth grab at the base of her mane and he tugs her forward, playful and forceful, asking and commanding. He's known a fire like this but oh, never a hunger. Never a hunger like this. Would there ever be an end to it?
At the end of the day, no matter what we thought or believed of them, they were just animals.
And like an animal, he guides her through the doorway and into the crumbling shadows. With their animal skins and animal teeth and animal magic, there was nothing left to do but touch.
@Isra Eik's exit/FTB <3
Time makes fools of us all
