Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Thana did not know, oh she did not know, how dull parts of her had gone.
It all comes back as a rush, a bloody headlong rush, as she hears his voice long before she plucks it out of the tangle of stardust and young constellations. The searching, the hunger, the need, it all floods though her system when she turns to him. In it Thana is drowning and there is no part of her that wants to look for air, or peace, or all the soft-fire moments she has found with Ipomoea.
She's going underwater, under-violence, under-need. And she's walking towards him still. This time there is star-blood dripping from her horn and black decay leaking from her eyes. Instead of fire-birds there are constellations spreading their nebula wings and circling around their heads like broken apart moons. There is not the same longing in her gaze, the same wish turned to ash, there is not the sea roaring in their ears (there is only their heartbeats, the song of their blood).
Ten stars start to fall between them as she moves towards them. Each is nothing more than a bit of dead stone, a boulder crashing against the glass and making it groan. All the glory, all the awe, all the kaleidoscope of colors grow cold around her as her magic feasts, and feasts, and feasts. A star cracks, the sound not nearly as loud as the racing roar of her heart, her magic, and all the bits of her that have come rushing back.
Thana goes underwater, under-violence, down to the black bottom of it.
His skin feels the same as her hunger remembers it, all stardust and ocean-water. There is no forest in his flesh, no pollen, no golden leaves turning to golden dust. There is only the sea and the bones she might count beneath that. Thana inhales him, presses her lips hard into his neck.“Asterion.” She whispers against him and when she presses hard enough that he might feel the teeth behind her tight lips it's a whisper of a warning too.
Still, even now, Thana wants to unmake him.
“You left.” And the way she says it as she pulls away from him, makes the words seem like a strange mix between lament, sharpened blade, and warning. The star-blood drips down her horn and the groaning glass turns to cracking glass as more and more dead stars start to fall.
Thana starts to wonder what world will be beneath this one when she starts to fall with all the dead stars.
"Speaking." @Asterion
It all comes back as a rush, a bloody headlong rush, as she hears his voice long before she plucks it out of the tangle of stardust and young constellations. The searching, the hunger, the need, it all floods though her system when she turns to him. In it Thana is drowning and there is no part of her that wants to look for air, or peace, or all the soft-fire moments she has found with Ipomoea.
She's going underwater, under-violence, under-need. And she's walking towards him still. This time there is star-blood dripping from her horn and black decay leaking from her eyes. Instead of fire-birds there are constellations spreading their nebula wings and circling around their heads like broken apart moons. There is not the same longing in her gaze, the same wish turned to ash, there is not the sea roaring in their ears (there is only their heartbeats, the song of their blood).
Ten stars start to fall between them as she moves towards them. Each is nothing more than a bit of dead stone, a boulder crashing against the glass and making it groan. All the glory, all the awe, all the kaleidoscope of colors grow cold around her as her magic feasts, and feasts, and feasts. A star cracks, the sound not nearly as loud as the racing roar of her heart, her magic, and all the bits of her that have come rushing back.
Thana goes underwater, under-violence, down to the black bottom of it.
His skin feels the same as her hunger remembers it, all stardust and ocean-water. There is no forest in his flesh, no pollen, no golden leaves turning to golden dust. There is only the sea and the bones she might count beneath that. Thana inhales him, presses her lips hard into his neck.“Asterion.” She whispers against him and when she presses hard enough that he might feel the teeth behind her tight lips it's a whisper of a warning too.
Still, even now, Thana wants to unmake him.
“You left.” And the way she says it as she pulls away from him, makes the words seem like a strange mix between lament, sharpened blade, and warning. The star-blood drips down her horn and the groaning glass turns to cracking glass as more and more dead stars start to fall.
Thana starts to wonder what world will be beneath this one when she starts to fall with all the dead stars.
