[P] creatures of the night

[Antiope]

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M

y ears twist toward the sound of approaching steps in the new spring grass. I do not startle when he speaks, but lower my head and turn in his direction. He is umbral, a shadow in the growing dark, with embers for eyes and strange marks upon his hip. I realize that we are both shadow creatures, but in different ways. I am made for the darkness of a jungle, meant to camouflage among the trunks of trees and dancing, swaying light through leaves above. He is magma, volcanic, made for dark cavernous spaces of the underworld.

“This is Novus,” I tell him, trying not to remember the boat that had delivered me here many years ago. Trying not to remember the way I had come into a broken country and watched it learn to heal. Helped it even, for a time. Trying not to remember the way it had helped me heal. I have fallen so hard, since then, from heights unreachable. “This is a neutral land, though further north you’ll find beds and meals,” and an entire party, I think but do not say.

I for one would prefer to sleep here beneath the stars than among the festival goers or in Dawn Court itself, where no doubt countless others were spending their time. I had spent scarce little time at the festival, but there simply had been too many bodies and I am no longer a woman of the court. She is gone, has been for some time now. “You can stay,” I say, attempting to appear like I will not kill him in his sleep. I won’t, of course, but you can never really be too sure. By this time, Fylax has been disturbed from their slumber and the gryphon lifts their head to peer at the stranger, like a statue come to life.

all that blood was never once beautiful.
it was just red.

∞ | @Lysandros