Isra rolling like a stone
“because they're calling, calling, calling”
“because they're calling, calling, calling”
My
magic hums something that feels like a welcoming song to the newborn magic hovering in the air. It makes me think of the willow tree and Ipomoea, of the way he whispered to the branches. I remember now how happy the willow branch felt when I made it into a weapon. At the time I had thought it hunger, but if it was was hunger it was adoration too. Now I can hear that same song in the shaking leaves when they turn towards Callynite like she is the rain. The magic in my bones is ancient and terrible. It only roars, and roars, and roars.
When Callynite lowers her bow my own blinks out in response. It takes ever ounce of my focus to cool the roar in my blood and the hunger of my weapon. They are each chanting deep in the marrow of this body for a hundred different things I'm almost ready to give. I want to follow her into the darkness, to that beast snarling in fear. But I know I'd consume it and this--- this is for her.
A thunderbird is still summoning a storm over the mountain and somewhere the weight of what I must do is pressing against my spine.
So I only watch as she starts to glow and vibrate with a magic so much gentler than my own. For a moment I long for it-- the way the forest hums to her instead of becomes, the way it's easy, easy, easy. For a moment I only want to be a unicorn in the thicket that knows nothing of war, dragons, and purpose burning heavier and hotter than the sun in her chest. I would be anything else if I could because I know Eik loves the sorrow and the softness more than this.
I'm afraid that I'm learning only to love the violence.
The wolf settles to some song she's sung through the roots and the leaves that I cannot hear. He comes closer and I inhale slow as the sea until my blood is saying, hush, hush, hush to all this destruction in me. I don't move closer until it settles, because she's swaying with a weakness I know too well (or at least I used to know how it felt like blood pooling behind my eyes). Her skin feels cool when I touch my nose to her small shoulder once the wolf moves away. “You did.” My lips pull into a smile even though I'm not sure what exactly it is that I'm feeling.
It should be joy. I know it should.
“All it took was a little patience waiting for the magic to find you.” I don't think mine found me. But I don't tell her that mine has consumed me. “Rest a little and then we will see what we can do about the rumors of thunderbirds.” Her skin feels almost too soft when I tap my horn against the ridge of her brow.
And when Fable flies off, still hunting, I try not to shiver with worry. For now, I'm needed here.
What need really, does a dragon have for a unicorn when it comes to facing beasts?
What need?
@Callynite | "speaks" | notes: <3
