------------------I have seen the dark universe yawning ---------------------------------Where the black planets roll without aim, Their eyes meet and she is transfixed on that point of dread, of madness, of darkness and snake slit. It feels like insanity that fire of starvation that flickers in her belly but gives off nothing of heat. Only death boils inside her, only the clamminess of corpses. The blackness of their shadows seems of an unimaginable color, deep enough to trick all the petals between them to fold into slumber. It's a sacrilege to the sunlight this thing between them and when the black mare closes the distance Wormlust wants to anoint that altar of darkness with crimson and iron and silken flesh. Almost does the pit of silence between their words and their breaths seems like a endless place forgotten between time and magic, reality and the dreaming sea. And so she breaks it up with feather-song and sea-song. Her teeth grind against each other where fang-tip meets tip-of-fang. How dry her lips feel! Her smile could be the surface of the moon for how pitted and dusted her flesh feels when she pulls it back to bare her teeth like a feral thing. Her hooves scratch at the flowers and lichen covered rocks between the blades of grass when she closes all but the briefest of distances between them. Her tongue tingles when she watches their breaths turn almost to condensation on the skin of their faces. It tingles and she remembers how very, very parched all of her feels. Wormlust wants the fire to eat away the cold dread of death inside her rib-cage. She wants her, this black mare with fury and arrogance lingering beneath her skin like embers beneath kindling. “Then,” She says in waves of lust and want and need that crash against her teeth and tongue and lips. “perhaps we should see what secrets we can learn from one another.” And in the aftermath of her voice one wing lifts up, up, up and she shakes loose all the dead flowers that gathered between the feathers. The way the petals, crushed and dead and ruined, fall seems almost grotesquely romantic. monster of the sea |
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