[P] the moon is drunk

[Manon]

we don't have to worry bout nothing
'Cause we got the fire and we're
burning one hell of a something

She found that they would all go to her eventually; the cold-hearted with a mind but naught for disaster, the weak-willed who could resist no urges, the most elevated of them that never quite escape their buried desires. She was a cliche--a moth to a flame, a lighthouse guide to wayward ships--and it seemed that even those not looking for her came around at some point or another. But she was no siren, sang no calls to beckon them forth. Fate, as it simply was, just always leaned into her favor.

Her words, her question, hung a heavy blanket over their heads as the water wavered and held its breath for the boy's answer. It would not be appeased that night, and so neither would she, as the silence spanned and nothing more was said. He seemed far away, so far away as she might have been before he came, as though their places had been traded and they stood where the other had just been. Maybe the moon was more captivating than she, maybe the shock of the cool water had worked its way up, up, and consumed him entirely. But whatever the reason, he merely nodded once and made way back to the shore, and she was just as alone again as she was before him.

Perhaps, after all, there was nothing more to be shared between them.

The waves from his departure had no time to settle before they were disturbed again, and Manon had done much the same as the first time: she merely looked out, away, somewhere else except there, and accepted the next challenger to try their hand against hers. But this presence was different, it was not like the man's that stood beside her only breaths prior, it wavered with an air of allure and threatened to send shivers down a spotted spine. How strange it was, the unusual feeling that took hold of her heart and mind and gave her every sign to run. How ironic it was, that she had both just stopped the running from her dreams and seemed to have entered a new one. Why her heart picked up its pace--why she chose to stay and find out--were enigmas that would probably never find answers.

Little did she know she had more reason to fear this companion over the last.

She was very suddenly alone again, but not truly, for the subtle hush of the underwater spaces that swirled around her legs told her the girl wasn't really gone. A game, perhaps, of hide and seek, but Manon would sate no desires save her own that night. With the moon holding steady above them, so full in its cycle, it would not bare witness to the copper lady lowering her head for the sake of formalities. And so when the finned creature appeared once more, head on and outlined in silver by that watchful moon, Manon simply flicked her ears in disdain and gazed upon her washed out frame, sure that if she kept some semblance of indifference the pounding in her chest would ease. The girl was captivating, entrancing in her appeal, and whatever spell had befallen Manon shattered at the words posed to her; she blinked once, regarding her company, and a saccharine smile spilled across her lips as she tilted her head just enough to allow a hanging gem on her crown to swing freely. "A queen of something, maybe, depending who you ask." Of roses, of deception, of the Scarab--she wondered what Senna would think of the latter. "And you--" child, she almost added, but hastily caught her tongue, "--what are you queen of?"

Maybe some part of her knew she was in the presence of a kelpie but chose to ignore it, maybe she was simply dangerous--like Manon. Regardless of what she was, Manon held onto her smile and softened her voice, "A princess has someone who rules over them, and you should bow to no one..." slightly encouraging, slightly sinister, she trailed off and allowed them both to be consumed by the growing night.

the red rose

CREDITS

@Anandi sorry for the wait <3