Mesnyi
all, all the flowers are lost;
everything is lost,
everything is crossed with black,
black upon black
and worse than black,
this colourless light.
everything is lost,
everything is crossed with black,
black upon black
and worse than black,
this colourless light.
”There’s company enough while I wait." And there they went, the flowers and the vines, growing up, up, up towards the stars, winding around him, blooming, their sweet scents curling around the pair as if it were a dewy morning. She thought it beautiful - his magic - and longed to know more. She collected gossip, rather than spinning it, but it would never be any better than the knowing of a person. His voice was too sad, though. She couldn’t ask.
”Do I know you?”
Mesnyi dipped her head. ”Not anymore than one may know their own sovereign,” she said, “or that the sovereign may know his own people. So it is.” The lavender mare watched the flowers still climb and curl. She found his face difficult to look at for too long.
In that pause she became aware of the complete silence, and its great, yawning power. She looked up at the moon, and the stars, which kept the sky from seeming such a yawning cavern, with all its silence. “Strange how the quiet can wake us, and make us think we are so alone.” Flowers were not friends. They could almost be confidantes, but they couldn’t listen, not that she knew. Maybe his did. She thought it must have felt the same anyway; no flower she had spoken to had ever moved for her.
@Ipomoea | Eurydice | "speaks" | notes: ☽☼☾
"You see, women are like fires, like flames. Some women are like candles, bright and friendly. Some are like single sparks, or embers, like fireflies for chasing on summer nights. Some are like campfires, all light and heat for a night and willing to be left after. Some women are like hearthfires, not much to look at but underneath they are all warm red coal that burns a long, long while."
![[Image: 26y3cfu.png]](https://i.imgur.com/26y3cfu.png)
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