Eligos thou shalt feast; There is a fury in her that calls to the rage in him, blood to blood. It is beyond the law of tooth and fang, beyond even the endless red ache in him that that says to kill and feed and leave only silence or the sound of weeping. It knows her, all the black parts under the red skin, but the monster knows only how to meet through violence. And the unicorn welcomes his greeting. Down the Nerubyian falls like judgement, and up swings the scythe of her tail, glinting like the first distant star of creation. Oh how he howls when it meets his haunch! Cold is the desert air that kisses the wound, and hot is the golden blood that spills like idols melted down. He writhes away like a snake, back to the sand, those viper’s-teeth aching in his mouth. There is no time to wonder that their blood smells the same. They are both little more than black shadows (old blood) in the paling light. Even bleeding, pain-stinging, he is laughing with is mouth and his eyes when she snarls like she wants war as badly as he does. In the time it takes her to lunge the droplets of his blood are only just hitting the sand, each with the smallest hiss. Her horn drives for him, wicked and wanting; beneath her hooves the ground trembles and sighs with thirst. Dust rises around them like a star’s birth and the beast twists to evade her slashing horn, her driving feet. And when he leaps back with the cold air burning down his throat and his eyes saying you will not so easily bury me, he is not alone. For every drop of blood has bloomed another monster, writhing and thick with gold and shadow, and there is no more through for Thana. @Thana |