In truth, Anandi is repulsed by her own actions. She is disgusted by her urges, embarassed by how easily she folds to temptation. She feels fake, fake, fake-- so very far gone she doesn’t know who she is anymore, stretched to breaking behind the portrait of a young, beautiful, untouchable girl.
But it’s too late too backtrack. Too late for apologies. The emissary is too deep in the illusion.
All she can do is lean into the myth she’s made of herself.
Anandi’s lips are pursed in a smirk as she regards Lucinda carefully. “Oh. You’re right aren’t you. You’re much older than me.” Her eyes are alight with laughter, barely contained by the hummingbird flutter of those long, dark lashes. She was only teasing, one girl to another, it was only a game… there were barbs, maybe, but Andi could hardly be blamed… Lucinda set herself up for that one.
And, since we’re being honest here, Anandi has no idea what this is. This dark gravity that pulls her toward the creature she’s made. This tension, scarlet and black, acidic and heavenly. Oh, how many ways there are to want. She wants to aggravate the other woman. She wants to kiss her, or kill her. Desire, she’s learned, is rarely decisive.
I’ve made you a monster. Like me. There’s no choice when it comes to chaos, don’t you see? It spreads without retreat, like a poison or a fire.
Anandi bites her lip, dreams of biting other things. All at once she is aggravated and proud, calm and ashamed. It’s all so much-- too much-- and she feels herself falling back on animal instincts.
You feel it too, don’t you? The pull.
Don’t you?
When Lucinda speaks, “But then we wouldn't get to have this lovely banter we're having, would we?” It is not a concession-- not quite. But, and this hits with a surprisingly strong sense of relief, she does not tell Anandi to fuck off and die. Andi exhales, with a tentative kind of laughter. “I’d kind of miss it, wouldn’t you?”
She takes a step forward, head gently lowered in a sort of submission that was exceedingly rare. As if to ask is this alright? They’re close enough now to share the same breath. Lucinda smells of the sea in a way that twists Anandi’s stomach with longing.
“Would you like to go hunting?” The words are dreamlike, tantalizing. It is the closest thing to a truce her pride will allow her to offer.
@Lucinda <3<3
some say the loving and the devouring are all the same thing
☾
