The Illuminated
“both beauty and terror, without beginning, without end.”
Tonight the stars are celebrating. They are pressing against her in their mortal cages and tracing the lines of her chains with their glowing, feral gazes. Al'Zahra can see judgment in their gazes. She can see the way it taints the awe as she welcomes the meteor storm beside them. And she can see something hotter than judgment, darker than awe, in some of them as the music grows slower, deeper, more. The moonlit bass runs over them and the drum echos in her own ears louder than a heartbeat as she twines her way to the center of their ritual.
She does not know the meaning behind their music and their poetic chants that seem more manic than rhyme. But the music has not wavered and the bodies moving around her make her feel like there is some cliff-edge she's racing for. She is determined to get there first because she still remembers when the first star was chewed out of the sky. She remembers when they first started to fall.
Perhaps more are falling tonight and this is only a sacrifice to their new mortal forms.
Her skin feels like fire and her blood like embers. She feels caught in the cage of their glowing eyes and their fervor. And when someone presses something to her lips, hard as the core of an apple, she does not pause to wonder before swallowing it down like wine. The moonlight seems like a biting thing when she steps back into her dance, all sharp silver seeking the sleeping magic of her ancient soul.
She wonders if they know, as the music slows even more, that the dancer moving through them is older than their mother (the great sky horse who chewed holes out of her skin and spit them like seeds to the ground). She wonders if they know how much she wishes to leech the arcane from their blood. There is magic to be had in the blood of a star, magic enough to turn back time.
And when she lays her teeth at the rib-cage of a horse pressing in too close to her form, she wonders how much of it she'll need to take.
maybe I'm crazy, I know you're danger
baby, you could be the death of me
Something is stirring in the night. Morrighan's not sure if it's the way the moon shines down in its fullest form or the flicker of falling stars. She finds herself wandering back to the markets again and again, but especially tonight. There is music as there usually is, but this time it's different. The beat of the drums is more powerful, as if there's more of a purpose in the rhythm of the music.
This becomes evident when she reaches the heart of it all to find a Shed-Star ritual. Of course they would be celebrating this night being the most powerful for magic. Morr will probably never understand their customs, but it's become the norm of Denocte. Crowds gather and press in on each other to watch. Some are dancing together in their own small groups, heads held up high as if to try and reach the sky. They close their eyes to focus on the music and the pure bliss of the moment.
Morrighan remembers being up on that stage and dancing for the first time. She remembers the scent of smoke and spices consuming her like a fire, while her own fire screams inside her. She can still feel the touch of Al'Zahra's lips on her skin. Even after she ran off, that had thankfully not been the last time they saw each other.
She told herself not to fall, not to get attached. To stuff it away, keep it at bay, to ignore it all. It makes her too vulnerable. Especially if she has a chance at being Regent some day, she can't chance making stupid mistakes.
Yet, she keeps finding her way back to Al'Zahra's touch. She can't stay away.
And soon, it seems this is the true reason for her finding her way here. She sees the mare among the dancers, her body moving so fluidly and her chains swishing by her sides. Morr's heart flutters and her cheeks feel warm. It's nothing she can control anymore and it scares her. But it overwhelms her until she can't stand it anymore.
But as she watches, there's something else that comes over her. She can see Al'Zahra swallow something and other dancers getting a little too close. It even looks like she's about to bite another and it doesn't seem to be a warning.
Fire immediately ignites at her feet, but she snuffs it out as she charges over to the dancers. She's quite aggressive as she pushes through the crowd and forces herself in between the one dancer and Al'Zahra. Jealousy is clear in her expression, but she could care less what others might think. When the one dancer glares at her, she pins her ears back and they slink back before she can display her fire again.
Thankfully, it hasn't caused too much of a disruption in the Shed-Star's ritual. Morrighan attempts to join in on the dancing while turning around to look at Al'Zahra. When usually she'd be at a loss for words, she is too frustrated to focus on the fluttering in her chest.
"What is this?" she asks with a growl, keeping her voice low so the conversation is only between the two of them. "They pass around weird shit and just get all close? I don't like that." Perhaps she's too possessive, but tonight, the others would learn that Al'Zahra is her's.
She remembers the first time they danced and how she ran away in panic. Right now, she's not afraid. If anything, the anger and adrenaline just make her dance more. She is still pressed up against the bodies of the other dancers, but she makes the effort to let her hip brush up against Al'Zahra's. With a smirk on her lips, her eyes tell another story.
The Illuminated
“both beauty and terror, without beginning, without end.”
For a moment, when Morrighan rushes to divide her from the star-magic, there is only rage that rises to greet the Warden. Forgotten are the moments in the forest where they had dissolved themselves down into fire, touch, and passion, and like stars they had exploded. There is only fury at the feeling of banked fire at her hips and a growl tearing trough the heavy bass drum of the ritual.
This all feel like chains, like golden lamps and salt circles. It feels like being trapped.
And so she turns her teeth from the star's rib-cage and lays them against Morrighan's neck. She bites down-- half lovingly soft, half hard enough to sting. Around them the dance continues, outside the two of them twisted together like snakes trying to drag the other off a cliff. “Always so ready to burn the world down.”. Al'Zahra moves her teeth to the Warden's cheek just to inhale the lingering scent of ash that follows her everywhere. Like she's always ready to devour up the world just to linger in the heat.
Al'Zahra is lingering now. Even when her flashing fury is demanding the retribution of a god, of a forgotten master of the world, of a thing that came before the stars and the mortals, she's lingering. Maybe it's why she brings out a stolen stimulant and holds it against the firelight backdrop like it's a bit of gold glimmering and tempting. “Wouldn't you like to know what it's like to burn with it? Even if it is only for a single night.” Her inherent magic keeps the drug hanging between them, swinging softly side to side like a bell might swing above a church altar.
Instead of pulling away, and giving in to her fury screaming at her to pull the Warden's skin from her bone, she only drags her teeth across the shell of a painted ear. She purrs like a wildcat, like a flame, like something pretending to be tame (only for a night). And when she shivers it has nothing to do with retribution, or lust, or fire.
There is something baser, something darker, something that remakes worlds, dragging itself through her blood slow and slick as oil. It starts to race when she says, “just for one night.”, and lays her lips against Morrighan's.
maybe I'm crazy, I know you're danger
baby, you could be the death of me
She is not expecting teeth to meet flesh and certainly not so swiftly. It makes Morrighan flinch. This is nothing like their time at the lake where it had been gentle kisses and caresses. This is more violent and predatory, like a lion. She is not sure what to think. She's also not sure she entirely dislikes it.
"Always so ready to burn the world down."
Morrighan smirks and ignites her fire. Of course she wants to burn the world down, it's all she knows.
Al'Zahra's teeth move to her cheek and the Warden can feel her chest fluttering. The fire inches up higher and higher as if it too is craving the woman's touch. "Why don't we burn it down together?" she asks longingly. In a way, she's asking because she wants to be selfish. She wants Al'Zahra all for herself. Her eyes dart around to the Shed-Stars around them as if to ward them off with her glare.
The fire keeps rising up her legs.
Then the woman dangles a piece of that drug in front of Morr's face while whispering to her. She's tempting Morr to try it for one night, but there is a wildness in her gaze. Even though it waves back and forth almost hypnotically, Morr is not entirely convinced.
The Warden has never been one for these types of parties. She thinks they're stupid and reckless. Even the few times she's drank, she's had second thoughts. Thankfully, over the year or so that she's been here, she's learned to manage how many drinks she has so she doesn't completely lose herself. It's one thing to get lost in fury, but another to succumb to the effects of something else- something dangerous, something wrong.
There are lips at her ear, purring, begging her to give in. It makes her legs weak, but then her muscles stiffen. There's no telling what will happen if she takes this thing, whatever it is. She is not spontaneous. She never acted this way until her.
Is this all wrong?
Then she's kissing her.
Morrighan's fire flares and she takes a step back out of surprise. They've kissed before, but this feels different. There is more wanting in this and she's finding it hard to listen to the logical part of her mind.
Maybe, just for one night.
"How do I know this won't kill me?" she asks, looking into the woman's eyes. Although there is a touch of fear, Morr can feel herself giving in. She's not quite there, but it's getting harder and harder to say no.
The Illuminated
“both beauty and terror, without beginning, without end.”
“I've already started to burn it down.” The words are spoken flesh to flesh, fury to fury, inhale to exhale. “You just have to catch up.”Al'Zahra can taste them, like embers on her tongue, smoldering in the cracks between her teeth. And to her they sound not like words. Each sounds like prayer, like knees long bloody from need and lips pressed hard enough to bleed against a rosary.
Each word, each breath, each hiss of flame burning the tips of her hair--
It all feels like the beginning of the end. And if only, she thinks, if only there was this quicksilver flame when her kind started to fall. Perhaps then the world would not be owned by the gods. It could have been left to the hedonistic and wicked things, the magic without tether, the flames and the soot.
There is a suggestion of that hedonism when she tucks the opiate back out of sight. Al'Zahra presses their shoulders together and sighs at the kiss of flame against her skin even as she winces for the pain of it. Around them the shed-stars grow wild and grotesque as they lay themselves bare to the falling stars streaking down above them and the intensity of their devotion to the small bits of light blazing themselves to death in the darkness. The air feels heavy as oil when she inhales, like the religion is trying to drown them in it the wildness of it, the chaos, the beat of the drum making all her edges feel like suggestion instead of flesh.
And Al'Zahra is weak to it, that feel of fire licking at her chest and a drum-beat drowning out the pulse of this mortal form. She wants to lose herself, she wants to expand outside this form, she wants to burn.
She wants, she wants, she wants--
Morrighan's skin: the way it tastes like fury when she drags her teeth along the Warden's neck.
“Do we know if anything is going to kill us?” Her skin feels like needles, like ice, and fire, and destruction. It feels like the echo of her old-soul wants out, like it wants to press itself into Morrighan's flames just to see what can be drawn out of the ash. She bites down on the Warden's withers, hard enough that she can feel the hardness of spine between her teeth. “Do you trust me?” Al'Zahra asks even though she knows Morrighan shouldn't trust her at all.
maybe I'm crazy, I know you're danger
baby, you could be the death of me
Catch up? It feels like a challenge and one that Morrighan would certainly love to partake in. Despite what she said to Isra, right now anyway, she feels like she would do anything to burn the world down with Al'Zahra. They could forget all the rest, especially those who may have wronged them. Maybe in a way it's too much wishful thinking. But, after all, she is the one with the ability to control the flames.
Those same flames that are getting a bit out of control and wanting to burn anything, even her own love.
As if to match the chaos in the fire, the Shed-Stars are growing wilder. It's felt in their hoofbeats and the beat of the drums. Their skin presses closer in the dance, as does Morr's to Zahra's, and the air is becoming warmer. It feels like smoke in her lungs and she's losing oxygen. For some reason, she stays and only presses harder.
The woman poses a valid question and Morrighan wonders why she is so suddenly worried about dying. Of course, there is always that feeling of instability from being mortal again. Either way, this woman has already done a good job at turning the Warden inside out. So much so that her impulses have changed and she's not so sure who she is anymore. When once she would refuse to show any vulnerability, she's managed to let her guard so far down, her past self would be screaming.
Al'Zahra bites down hard on her withers and the pain shoots through to her bones. It makes Morrighan wince, but still she doesn't pull away. Maybe she's learning to embrace the wildness.
"Do you trust me?"
No, is all she thinks and is all she wants to say. Instead, the word doesn't leave her lips and she is just left staring for a moment. There is a kind of back and forth in her mind, a fight between the logic and the impulse. Of course, impulse wins. It always does.
Instead of answering the question, Morrighan just takes the drug between her teeth and swallows it. She doesn't know what to expect, but tries not to think about it too much. She can already feel the world around her melting away.
"Together then," she finally says, in reference to burning together and keeping up the pace. "Show me what I've missed." Perhaps in a way it's suggestive.
It could be the drugs taking hold of her inhibitions, but she doesn't care anymore. Even as her mind starts to feel a little fuzzy, all she can think about is taking down the world with Al'Zahra. The fire between them seems to feel the same way and the scent of ash lingers in the air. Her eyes, resting on the other woman now, seem to be begging her "take me".
The Illuminated
“both beauty and terror, without beginning, without end.”
In the space between euphoria and opiate longing, Al'Zhara starts to speak in the language of form.
The curl of her neck sings. The whispers of her chains start to beg. The hollow thuds of their hooves as they move (so slowly, like summer seas, so slowly against this shore of flesh between them). Each curl of her, each grain of salt in their sweat, is an almost note to a song. It's a song she's always known how to sing. Consumption, profanity, holiness.
“Yes.” She says it like a prayer. “Yes.” And then she starts the dance, and sing her song of skin, the hallelujah of devouring. They will take the world with them into the fire, and the stars and music with it.
But even as she turns wild, she can see the youth of it in Morrighan's skin as she starts to echo the same song. And for all the Warden's fire, and fury, and wrath, there is only one of them that knows exactly how each tug of hair and flesh will feel before they hold on. Everything is rose gold, tainted by firelight and opiate-light. There are moons dancing on their skin and stars flickering around their brows like crowns.
Tonight she seems like a child of fire and moonlight, stardust and embers, drum and silence.
Tonight she feels like a furious thing, a hollow thing, a thing that is pulling, pulling, pulling Morrighan into the darkness beyond the ritual.
And even that darkness doesn't seem like enough, as she drags her teeth along rib, and spine, and sinew. There is void in her, left by magic and fire, that needs weight, and fury, and this violent mockery of love to fill it. No matter how hard her teeth become, or how like steel her form becomes, there is still the drumming of the drug and the stars driving her onward to more of this violent adoration.
There are no apologies on her tongue, no remorse. Like the stars taking the light with them as they fall, Al'Zhara, in the end, drags Morrighan into the earth.
maybe I'm crazy, I know you're danger
baby, you could be the death of me
Morrighan feels more alive than she has ever felt before. It's as if the tide has taken them and swept them off their feet. She feels lightheaded, but in a content way, like all her problems have disappeared. Her usual fury is gone, although her insides feel like they're on fire. She blinks, but it doesn't do much to clear her vision. And yet, she doesn't care.
All she wants to do is let her body move naturally with Al'Zahra. To get lost in the dance, not even of the ritual, but something of their own making. The woman's chains are the instruments to the dance and the sound of their hooves is the beat of the drums. It starts to make more sense why the dancers of the Night Court always seem to look blissful. If this is how it truly feels to be alive.
And the way the woman says "yes" makes Morrighan's legs weak. She feels teeth on her skin again. She retaliates by biting the woman's neck and for a moment wonders if she'd draw blood.
Then she's being led away and she follows without question. Right now, she'd follow the woman anywhere, even if it was far into the darkness of the night.
