[ Post a Response | Desreal ]
Posted by magnolia on November 9, 2008, 12:47 am
75.130.209.210
He was thinking about blood, and it made her taste it, coppery, smell it, thick, metallic. She watched him, stepping back, just one step.
“Am I to believe, Wraith, that you’ve grown tired?”, he had helped her, before, only because he had no choice, or at least this is what she’s told herself. Her voice trembles, like his body had, but it is heard clearly, spoken direct,
“What will..”, but she stops, then, suddenly, biting off the bitter words that she was about to say. What will be left of you if all the hate was gone. She can’t say them outloud, only think them, scared that, one day, something she says may strike home. In that way, she still believes.
But she is thinking about the blood. She is thinking about how strong, in his mind, it was. She is thinking she doesn’t want to fight, only wants answers. Those will be harder to get, and she knows, she knows, but shes askes anyway, looking down, nose starting to curl in toward her own chest, showing him only her profile,
“What did you do at the ocean? Why? Why to mine?”, and she takes another step back, feeling the warmth from his body too. A new thing, for the skeleton stallion to have heat. A new thing, you see, meat on the bones.
The wind is rough. It pushes through the trees of the glade, as if greedily trying to suck in against her. She doesn’t ask why, not another time. She only watches him again, eyes bright in the dusk and shadows.
seer of the scholars
sister to the air 
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