She comes to the shore with such terrible urgency.
It reminds Anandi of the hunger. Is there at least relief for the mare? Or does it still call to her– that unnameable thing stirring deep in the belly, where the body is tied to the soul? The blood’s song, ringing in the ears, and the ocean’s song, pawing at the feet like a kitten, and impossible weight of the night… does she know what they mean yet?
Anandi looks and looks but sees no revelations in the painted woman’s eyes. She sees only wariness (good, the stranger should be cautious) and fierce defensiveness. It is so similar animal of prey that knows its been caught. But Anandi’s not here to hunt-- or at least she didn’t think she was. And she certainly tried her hardest not to hurt such noble creatures as her land-walking cousins.
“Of course I’ve been watching,” she laughs gaily as thought it were the most simple and obvious of things. “You intrigue me.” Flattery was such a delightful tool. “You’re very lovely,” she adds with a gracious half-smile. (Does she see? Does she see the tips of those sharp-sharp teeth, gleaming in the starlight? Or is it just a trick of the light?) She does not elaborate on the woman’s loveliness, although she would certainly go on at length if prompted. The talk moves on to more interesting matters, anyway.
“Fate,” says the woman covered in ritual. A most unexpected answer. And then she takes a step closer to Anandi and the ocean. Anandi and her ocean. It is just a step, just a fraction of the distance between them eaten away, but the mare’s scent fills the kelpie’s nostrils and millions of neurons are firing in a galaxy of natural impulse. Logic and instinct battle. Fight or flight or feast. Or feast.
Or feast.
On the inside, she’s at war. But it’s one she’s been training for her entire life. Anandi does not move except for a lazy blink of the eyes. She swallows surreptitiously. The image of civility, and no one would ever understand how goddamn hard it was to bury the monster that only wanted to lick and bite and chew and feast. And feast.
And feast.
“Really?” She croons. She does not have to fake interest. “Is that why I’m here too?” She hopes the answer is yes. She so dearly needs the answer to be yes. It would crush the jade-eyed princess, to think she was coincidental. Parenthetical. A side quest in someone else’s story. To that extent it does not matter what the other mare says– Anandi will listen if it pleases her, and ignore if it does not. But that would be impossible to discern from the look on her face, wide-eyed and expectant, hanging on the stranger’s word as though it were gospel.
She takes a small step closer, to better hear what the other woman has to say.
The most beautiful sound
Was the ocean, and your bleeding heart
@Leto <3
some say the loving and the devouring are all the same thing
☾
