kassandra,
there was no lost time, back in your mouth like a love crime
The glory of the sunset was a forebear of the blessed chill of the night. So desparate was Kas to escape the heat that she was becoming very much a nocturnal creature, sitting somewhere uncomfortably crepuscular at the moment. It was not accurate to say she slept during the day because she was not doing much sleeping at any time; indeed, she was more a walking corpse, with bags under her eyes the size of the night sky, and a mind full of wandering, restless dreams. Caligo’s presence in Denocte had shaken her. Seeing the empty bed of the goddess as something tangible, yet unreachable, had left a mark on her soul that was equally as heavy and invisible. She caught snippets of rest where she could, mostly catnaps on her feet, before moseying on again.
It wasn’t like she was going in completely blind-- she had a guide. She went until she started seeing fuzzy, purple things at the edges of her vision and then forced herself to lay down and get some rest.
But this thing that she was seeing in the corner of her peripherals, this was no hazy purple figure. This was some… some demon? Some creature from somewhere beyond. An alien, Kas thought, as she stepped closer, eyes fighting between narrowing in for a closer look and widening in disbelief; she settled halfway between with some blank, dumb look on her face.
This creature was tall and made out of spun glass, with golden, cloven hooves, and legs the color of the old night. They had wings inlaid with… with star maps, like someone had come and tattooed the skies on them. Was it a tattoo? In golden ink? Had it hurt?
why don’t you go ask, instead of gawking, Oculos suggested, stretching next to her with a yawn.
So she did. Kas screwed her courage to the sticking place and walks across the space between them, through the unbloomed great bluestem and pale gray needlegrass; through clutches of common milkweed and sleepy butterflies, and over droopy mayapple, sending clouds of locusts buzzing up into the sunset from the silt. And it is only as they pause over Cicatrix, in what could be taken as a real invasion of personal space but is, in all honesty, a genuine curiosity, Kas finds her breath caught in her throat.
Not because of the skeletal face and eternal tears.
Because they were there.
“You were there,” Kas says, tired and lost in a repetition of her own thoughts. “You were there when Caligo spoke to us. I remember you.” Kas pushed her face closer, desperate for knowledge. “What did she say to you? How did you know to come?” her voice edged a little bit on panic.
Oculos slid his thin body in between Kas and the half-supine Cicatrix, pressing his shoulder into her chest to get her to back up. give ‘em some breathing room, kas, c’mon. She did back up, a little. The Borzoi sat in front of her, looking down his long nose at her tired face. boundaries, remember? we’re practicing.
“...right,” Kas said, a little dreamy, like she was struggling to come back to herself.
"Speech." oculos speech | @Cicatrix |
she's really close to getting her magic so she's gonna be a little weird for a bit until she figures that out.
It wasn’t like she was going in completely blind-- she had a guide. She went until she started seeing fuzzy, purple things at the edges of her vision and then forced herself to lay down and get some rest.
But this thing that she was seeing in the corner of her peripherals, this was no hazy purple figure. This was some… some demon? Some creature from somewhere beyond. An alien, Kas thought, as she stepped closer, eyes fighting between narrowing in for a closer look and widening in disbelief; she settled halfway between with some blank, dumb look on her face.
This creature was tall and made out of spun glass, with golden, cloven hooves, and legs the color of the old night. They had wings inlaid with… with star maps, like someone had come and tattooed the skies on them. Was it a tattoo? In golden ink? Had it hurt?
why don’t you go ask, instead of gawking, Oculos suggested, stretching next to her with a yawn.
So she did. Kas screwed her courage to the sticking place and walks across the space between them, through the unbloomed great bluestem and pale gray needlegrass; through clutches of common milkweed and sleepy butterflies, and over droopy mayapple, sending clouds of locusts buzzing up into the sunset from the silt. And it is only as they pause over Cicatrix, in what could be taken as a real invasion of personal space but is, in all honesty, a genuine curiosity, Kas finds her breath caught in her throat.
Not because of the skeletal face and eternal tears.
Because they were there.
“You were there,” Kas says, tired and lost in a repetition of her own thoughts. “You were there when Caligo spoke to us. I remember you.” Kas pushed her face closer, desperate for knowledge. “What did she say to you? How did you know to come?” her voice edged a little bit on panic.
Oculos slid his thin body in between Kas and the half-supine Cicatrix, pressing his shoulder into her chest to get her to back up. give ‘em some breathing room, kas, c’mon. She did back up, a little. The Borzoi sat in front of her, looking down his long nose at her tired face. boundaries, remember? we’re practicing.
“...right,” Kas said, a little dreamy, like she was struggling to come back to herself.
she's really close to getting her magic so she's gonna be a little weird for a bit until she figures that out.
