“AND DEEP IN OUR SECRET HEARTS
WE WORRIED THAT WE WERE AN ACCIDENT,”
WE WORRIED THAT WE WERE AN ACCIDENT,”
Her dreams are filled with tourmaline, and star-fire, and a blackness as bruised blue as a bolt of precious night silk. There is singing in that bright-dark place-- a hum on her lips, a vibration between marrow and quicksilver as they swarm together like wasps, a whisper of wind through feathers and teeth too sharp to be in the jaws of a star. The song has no words and no language but sound. But she does not stop singing not when her form changes to another three times and changes back three times as well.
Warset sings deep in her blood even as she awakens in the oasis with a silver tear leaking from her eyes because she is alone as she had been in that endless red and bruised-black dream. It glitters in the sun like a diamond shard fallen from the crown of a god.
They find her with an echo on the song on her tongue and the weight of a man in her stomach. She feels like a bit of stone as she turns to him, all marble and delicacy with nothing but hard edges. And when she rises, turning her quicksilver gaze to the dragon, her wings snap at her sides like a shawl draped around a lonely statue in a storm.
I know you, those wings snap at the monster, I sang on the war-field of your ancestors.
Something in her cracks and bleeds-outs, like the fires of her falling had in the desert sun, when the stallion's words break through her wing language. The blood in her belly feels like pounds of stones when she turns to step towards him. A memory streaks like a dead star across her thoughts. She tries to hold on. She fails. Blood falls from her leg, the wound, and she does not know enough to hide it from the thing shifting across his eyes.
“Did he have a name?” Her wings furl and unfurl at her side, anxious for both flight and fury. And she doesn't know whether to lay her teeth at his throat, or cry, or drown herself in the water like a star falling into the ocean.
But she does not deny it, not with a gallon of blood weighing her down like a stone.
@Vercingtorix
Warset sings deep in her blood even as she awakens in the oasis with a silver tear leaking from her eyes because she is alone as she had been in that endless red and bruised-black dream. It glitters in the sun like a diamond shard fallen from the crown of a god.
They find her with an echo on the song on her tongue and the weight of a man in her stomach. She feels like a bit of stone as she turns to him, all marble and delicacy with nothing but hard edges. And when she rises, turning her quicksilver gaze to the dragon, her wings snap at her sides like a shawl draped around a lonely statue in a storm.
I know you, those wings snap at the monster, I sang on the war-field of your ancestors.
Something in her cracks and bleeds-outs, like the fires of her falling had in the desert sun, when the stallion's words break through her wing language. The blood in her belly feels like pounds of stones when she turns to step towards him. A memory streaks like a dead star across her thoughts. She tries to hold on. She fails. Blood falls from her leg, the wound, and she does not know enough to hide it from the thing shifting across his eyes.
“Did he have a name?” Her wings furl and unfurl at her side, anxious for both flight and fury. And she doesn't know whether to lay her teeth at his throat, or cry, or drown herself in the water like a star falling into the ocean.
But she does not deny it, not with a gallon of blood weighing her down like a stone.
@
