This keening soul;
He moves, the silhouette of his shadowed body unpainting itself from the shadow-scape into which he blends. Leto binds him in tangled galaxies as she watches his prowl toward the water’s edge.
It is only a moment longer where he is a feast for her eyes alone. As soon as he reaches the lake’s edge the surface etches him in rippling, reflected moonlight. It captures the underneath of his jaw, its line like the mountain’s edge at his back. In the darkness his eyes gleam, with the sparks of a dying sun swallowing all as it swells outward, outward. Behind the twisting galaxies of her eyes she wonders what the darkness might be like if she were swallowed by his gold.
Within her hair the strung bones clack with ritual music that charges the air. The still canvas of the lake’s surface shatters like glass as he steps down into the inky black pool. Ripples race across the water, breaking in warning upon her knees, turning to steam in the boiling water at her sides.
Upon his body her eyes follow the maps of gold, branching out like the seams of universes, held together with the golden glue of time. Beneath the thick bow of her lashes she watches him, a lion studying a tiger. Slow, slow are his lips as they lower to her reflection and run along the rippling curve of her neck. A shiver slips down her throat and her ears fall upon the tangle of her hair. Corvid, her head tilts and after a moment she smiles, small, dangerous. A hunger stalks along the crescent moon curve of her lips. It plays a feral song against the star-bright glow of her teeth (though she keeps them behind tight lips that curl as an archer’s bow ready, ready…).
Bells ring in the silent night and they are barely silenced before he speaks. In quiet contemplation of his words, her own lips lower to the water that ripples from his body. Her lips feel the whispers the water presses upon their ebony skin. She feels the secrets they tell of his warm skin, his gold that he leached from gods and the endlessness of worlds.
Between them the steam from her curls and rises like a prayer to an unknown god. SHe is the incense upon the altar. She is the litany of prayer uttered on lips and rolling with the sweeping rhythm of the sigils that swirl innate and ancient across her skin. Hers is a song of death and dying, injustice and hungering vengeance.
Does it feel like burning? He asked.
“Yes.” She says, speaking in starfire and, oh, how the celestial bodies bend at her voice and the sweeping hand of her magic. This burning is as a phoenix - it is life and it is death and Leto stands in its midst, suspended, dangerous and bright. “But not like drowning. Drowning was worse.”
Already her lungs tighten with the memory of how they died, how the water demanded their change. The shed-star pushes her way through the water. It swirls at her knees, rushing out to break in white bubbles along the rocks of his hips and the crags of his ribs. She stalks closer, closer. In one blink a witch, the next a priest, the third a god, the fourth just a girl, cut through by light, painted by earthen magic and carved out of the rough stone of an underground cave. Leto moves to him, bringing earth and sky and sea upon her, within her, about her.
Her eyes chase the line of moonlight that pours down the curve of his nose and pools to drip from his lips. They take in the sharp of his cheekbone as dangerous as the bonebridge that lead across to the Glowstone City island. “Yes,” the kelpie breathes again, vehemence pouring hot and scalding as the light from between her rips and the cracks of her body.
“And you…” the witch murmurs, drinking in the sight of him, etching in the sight of it. “Have you bathed in the blood of gods?” Her chin tips up, up, up to the sky as if to see the stars roaring with the story of a deceased god. They are silent, silent. She does not know whether to be disappointed or delighted.
The taste of blood upon his lips turns the air sweet. Leto licks her lips as her stomach yearns and feels the way hunger stirs and begins to prowl between her ribs.
@Erasmus
Anyone! | "speaks" | notes:
