I agree that I
is a pretty heavy concept
is a pretty heavy concept
"W
e would do anything for love,” I muse softly, thinking of what I may or may not do for that L word that I haven’t said. I haven’t said it and I don’t mind. What is it but another lie, another wound to be pressed into flesh, burned into memory, left rotting when open and abandoned. Love. It disgusts me, and even so, I still smirk to the battle mage, “and you know how men love their beer.” I know the way my nose wrinkles, just slightly, as I take another swig of the sewer beer in front of me is delicate, feminine. Just one glance and I seem more a doll than a warrior, something to be hidden behind balustrade walls, hurried behind closed doors if ever a fight were to break out. We, Henry, my father, those who train with me, are careful not to leave scars on the surface. Nonna would just cleanse them from my skin later, tutting over the fit of my fur, the placement of teeth pressed deeply into it, with eyes full of equal parts scorn and fondness. When mother fell ill, it was she who helped brush back my hair and braid it down for a time. It was she who came and made me warm milk the nights I could not sleep while Henry was away. Father never so much as looked to see me shatter. Us shatter.
Claws tighten.
Taking a bigger drink, throwing the rest of whatever it was back with unladylike gulps, I tip my head to Della, asking for another. Anything to take off the edge. "Perhaps you’ve an ear with that dark-haired man?” I ask, at last turning to look at Below Zero. She is to water as I am to stars, it’s clear. Her skin breathes the smoothness of seals, her tail balances her as ours do not. Practice. How much discipline did it take for her to learn our ways – the ways of a surface world?
Behind us, if the men chatter, I do not listen. In all ways, this woman is fascinating. "You’re Below Zero, no? They whisper you know. But people always do,” it’s a statement followed by a shrug. Let them talk, let the sky rain blood, let the world freeze, and please Goddess, let Bel stay blue. When I see her, I do not see the red that chases my dreams. With her glow, I can ignore the hunger…for a moment. For another drink. Della’s sigh catches my attention and I make a sour face at her. Perhaps I drink too much.
Perhaps it’s the perfect amount to keep me sane.
{ @Below Zero "speaks" notes: <3 }
