burning my cathedrals
cause i dont pray anymore
Snaking snaking, always serpentine in her wayward travels, forever in winding pursuit of the next morsel of excitement, a taste of danger, a sliver of anything to satiate her ruthless hunger of more. She is a sun-scorched wraith, and like the dunes of her homeland she is gritty and sharp, a flame too wild to snuff out. With a gluttonous appetite for anything that glitters, for war-hardened stories, for whatever adventures lie beyond the horizon where the sun lays in bed – she wants it all.
Fever would always be a creature who was never satisfied.
It is difficult to find like-minded individuals – the very few she has encountered in her journeys seem to disappear, blown away with the wind to whatever heavens await them. With the departure of the handful of those close to her, she now aimlessly slithers to the next person who might give her a high. “Friend” was a dusty word, sitting high up on the shelf in the library of her vocabulary.
The catacomb of her mind is dark in contrast to the light she emits – there she carefully organizes all the faces she has ever encountered – most of them unknowingly sorted into the ‘potential pawn’ box. A few have been categorized as ‘feel-goods’ and she collects them for rainy days when she either needs her ego stroked or an old-fashioned spar to remind her what her own blood tastes like; She does hold a pair of eyes in the back of her mind – they are golden and gleaming, molten sunlight captured in an obsidian and ivory diamond patterned face.
But that portrait had been covered and left untouched, and it still paled in comparison to the shrine of her mother. Temper was the only thing driving Fever – sometimes to the point of madness – and yet nothing could replace her.
Satisfaction could be obtained if she found her mother.
Yet each day that passed was like a chokehold under water – her hopes of finding Temper were being drowned.
The speckled-snake saunters into a tent, sweat shimmering on her skin from her tiring dances, her gaze halfcocked as she simply asks the attendant for a glass of water. Performing for other courts was beginning to bore her, and she ached to return home where she could dance and sway with the gales of sand, to paint the adobe structures of her kingdom bright with her spirit.
After getting her refreshment, she moves to the back where it is darker, somewhere quiet so she can quench her throat and enjoy the rest of her evening brooding in peace.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t alone. The stranger was so quiet and wrapped in whatever head world his book had transported him to, deep within the literature, so still that they could have been mistaken for decorum.
The stallion had chestnut-red hair spilling down his blanched face, soft eyes framed with lashes: one of jade and its brother azurite. There is a sheen to his coat, akin to Fever’s own metallic skin, yet theirs is opalescent – it dances with amethyst-hued pearls and dusk-blue sparkles. They reminded her of a copper statue, and what others might assume for tarnished, Fever instead thought them beautiful in an alien-like way.
“What’s wrong?” she purrs, her voice like silken nectar spilling from dark lips. “Don’t want to partake in any drunken festivities?”
@Liseli sorry its a bit of a mess!
Fever would always be a creature who was never satisfied.
It is difficult to find like-minded individuals – the very few she has encountered in her journeys seem to disappear, blown away with the wind to whatever heavens await them. With the departure of the handful of those close to her, she now aimlessly slithers to the next person who might give her a high. “Friend” was a dusty word, sitting high up on the shelf in the library of her vocabulary.
The catacomb of her mind is dark in contrast to the light she emits – there she carefully organizes all the faces she has ever encountered – most of them unknowingly sorted into the ‘potential pawn’ box. A few have been categorized as ‘feel-goods’ and she collects them for rainy days when she either needs her ego stroked or an old-fashioned spar to remind her what her own blood tastes like; She does hold a pair of eyes in the back of her mind – they are golden and gleaming, molten sunlight captured in an obsidian and ivory diamond patterned face.
But that portrait had been covered and left untouched, and it still paled in comparison to the shrine of her mother. Temper was the only thing driving Fever – sometimes to the point of madness – and yet nothing could replace her.
Satisfaction could be obtained if she found her mother.
Yet each day that passed was like a chokehold under water – her hopes of finding Temper were being drowned.
The speckled-snake saunters into a tent, sweat shimmering on her skin from her tiring dances, her gaze halfcocked as she simply asks the attendant for a glass of water. Performing for other courts was beginning to bore her, and she ached to return home where she could dance and sway with the gales of sand, to paint the adobe structures of her kingdom bright with her spirit.
After getting her refreshment, she moves to the back where it is darker, somewhere quiet so she can quench her throat and enjoy the rest of her evening brooding in peace.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t alone. The stranger was so quiet and wrapped in whatever head world his book had transported him to, deep within the literature, so still that they could have been mistaken for decorum.
The stallion had chestnut-red hair spilling down his blanched face, soft eyes framed with lashes: one of jade and its brother azurite. There is a sheen to his coat, akin to Fever’s own metallic skin, yet theirs is opalescent – it dances with amethyst-hued pearls and dusk-blue sparkles. They reminded her of a copper statue, and what others might assume for tarnished, Fever instead thought them beautiful in an alien-like way.
“What’s wrong?” she purrs, her voice like silken nectar spilling from dark lips. “Don’t want to partake in any drunken festivities?”
@Liseli sorry its a bit of a mess!
![[Image: 45505141_kShAGp5UVRG2Lvt.png]](https://f2.toyhou.se/file/f2-toyhou-se/images/45505141_kShAGp5UVRG2Lvt.png)
i am a forest fire; i am the fire and i am the forest
and i am a witness watching it
