 Each of his steps opens up something inside her. The sound of his hooves of stone could be the cracking of her ribs folding back from her stomach. The whisper drip of blood from his horns could be the song her light-filled aorta sings inside her unfolding bones. And beneath it all, beneath the charred bone and light there is a hunger opening up its jaw wide-- wide inside her form.
It watches him from behind the small sun and moons living in the holes of her face where eyes should be.
She lifts her head like the apex of a cross when he stops before her. The light of her smile never fades, never flickers and it washes over them, the blood and the bodies like a tide washing over bones. Everything her eyes touches is dead, or will be dead. All the things beneath her light are made lovely, perfect and red and black and bright. Like bloody stars, she thinks, like bloody stars offered up to the universe of her.
“I know.” The universe says between the world of bleeding, dying stars. Each words seems like a promise of indescribable of chaos. She steps closer and it's the start of a ceremony when the religion coiled inside her, above that great hunger, starts to unwind like a root in the deep of her. Flies gather around the bodies to become holy witnesses and the humming of their wings sounds like a organ pulsing n the night, weak but loud at the same time. “You were right to kill them.” It's praise writ in brightness from the altar of her teeth and the blades of his horn.
Is the praise from a god every anything but bright?
“Will you tell me who you are?” She rises the apex of her higher and higher. Soon it's the blood-red stretch of her throat that hangs in the space just before the sharp points of his horn. When she closes her eyes all the brightness of the alley dies and turns to a fathomless blackness. The blood doesn't seem like rubies at their hooves anymore, just death buried in the dirt and darkness.
She waits, silently daring him to drink deep of the holy light.
eshek
“a fathomless chaos of eternal night.”
|
