the blood on my teeth
begins to taste like a poem
begins to taste like a poem
H
e watches her, as she peels away from him and prowls around the edge of the fire, and he wonders exactly what it would take for the Davke woman to snap. It’s a dangerous curiosity, one he’s far too willing, too eager, too reckless to give into. He had always lacked caution, or a sense of self preservation; one day, his twin was sure, it would be the end of them. But until then, it was far too fun to stop, and the horned man had always imagined he would go out in a blaze. Toulouse follows after her as she paces, always a half-beat behind her. As they walk he watches the flames reach hungrily for both of them, like the burning sand can’t wait to add two more bodies to the pyre. He can feel the heat of the ash beneath his hooves, can smell the burning fur and still, he presses closer until he can feel the flames against his own skin.
A tassel on his scarf begins to fray and he watches with morbid fascination as it comes apart, shred by shred, a blackened line creeping closer to him. As the char begins to turn to flame, he extinguishes it with a shrug, and takes a half-step away.
"Why else would I be here?" He flicks off the charred piece of silk, casting it into the waiting fire. "Raum is not so immortal as he thinks, no one is. I’m here to see the fool he becomes, and which misguided man follows in his footsteps when he’s gone."
He can see her through the flames again, and he’s sidestepping past a body to cross her. Winding and weaving, wondering how long it would take to walk across the heart of the funeral pyre, and how long it would take for his skin to char and slough and his bones to break beneath his weight. He knows she wouldn’t step forward to meet him if he tried - but oh, his imagination plays the scene all the same in the back of his mind, two vipers baring their fangs at the fire and denying fate its prize.
Another tassel begins to burn, the acrid smell filling his lung.
"Is it really too late?" he asks her, lowering his horns at the flames. "The capitol, the throne, the people - why not burn them the same way you burn your family?"
He stops, with a wall of flames still separating them. It's spreading out into the canyon now, reaching for all the dry and brittle plants lining the sandstone walls. A cloud of smoke is rising into the air, like a signal to the city waiting for him in the dunes. And Toulouse smiles at it, like he is something more than tinder and kindling.
"Why are you still here, if not for vengeance?"
@avdotya | "speaks" | notes: he has been so hard to write ahh
