FAITH IN THEIR HANDS SHALL SNAP IN TWO,
AND THE UNICORN EVILS RUN THEM THROUGH;
SPLIT ALL ENDS UP THEY SHAN’T CRACK;
AND DEATH SHALL HAVE NO DOMINION.
AND THE UNICORN EVILS RUN THEM THROUGH;
SPLIT ALL ENDS UP THEY SHAN’T CRACK;
AND DEATH SHALL HAVE NO DOMINION.
Around her there is a forest worth of wood burning and rising up in flakes of ash that fall along their cheeks like snow. She is surrounded by destruction, the mortal sort, and for a moment she wonders at the false religion calling this devastation rebirth. Every note of music, as it crashes through the fire-song like a stone, sets her teeth to aching with the need to lay her mouth against the throat of whatever this religion is.
Who, in a city of slumbering lambs and an army that is slowly rising into something dangerous, would think to stop her if she unmade it all?
And what would she make then, when her daughters rose all the corpses into gods and her king the trees into behemoths that could walk to the sun instead of reaching for it? What world would they inherit then?
Eligos, with a picture of crops made from spleens, begs her to discover the answer to the question.
When the stallion finds her, just as her ode to the chewed-out moon falls to silence and fire-hiss, Thana is responding to Eligos with an answering image of mountains shaped out of the skulls of god. There had been no smile on her face to fade with the laughter and so she does not offer one when he comes to her (all her smiles have too many teeth in them anyway). “Is this joy then? And the look in her eyes, all brimstone and corpses watering the forests, is not one of joy but of an omnipresent hunger that never wanes.
The smoke lingers around her knees, and the ash gathers in her horn that has drunk so much more than ash, as she steps closer to him. She counts each of his feathers as a lion counts both cubs and hyenas. Somewhere she tallies the spanse of his wings and just how quickly he might rise into the air if she moved towards him faster than a Regent should move to a warrior in the army. Would he bow or would he defend the heart in his chest?
“Eremurus.” She greets him in return, having recalled him from the training fields. But unlike a lady of anything she does not say it is a pleasure.
Unicorns, even monsters of them, do not lie.
<3 | @Eremurus
"Speaking."
"Speaking."
