06-05-2017, 08:49 PM
Spark dreamt;
“Come,” she echoes, motioning with her nose to the volcano and the noise in the distance of what she surmises to be another gathering.
Spear & Spark
Of magma, hot and swift.
She feels like she is caught beneath the earth - trapped, between layers of oppressive rock and dirt that hem the course of her frothing hot flow in until she has nowhere to go but up and out, bubbling and burning. Her path is destructive as it moves fast down the black slopes of a familiar volcano spewing flame and fits of ash. Is this the manner that her anger at him reveals itself? Not even him so much as her - the one that betrayed him, bewitched him into giving her those two that should have been theirs.
Spark had channeled that anger inward.
It had to go somewhere…
Deep into her blood, into the very molecules of her until it changed her.
She dreamt;
Feverish and fitful until the hot rush of magmic dreams woke her and the sweat that dripped off her whiskery nose sizzled on the earth between her knees.
“Spark?” he questioned softly.
She blinked, trying to refocus her eyes on the stallion’s shape that swam before her. Her throat felt thick as she tried to speak around the fever’s grip on her, “Spear?” It came out stilted, she had almost mistaken him for another - for the one that should have been there, almost said ‘Giver’ but his name became a handful of ash that sat on her tongue, choking her.
“Good, I thought you’d never wake up.” he took a step closer to her, but the high heat coming off her flesh kept him back. He longed to touch his muzzle for her cheek, to breathe in her strange new scent but even something in her eyes had gone different, the red seemed deeper, darker. “I think the fever still has a hold of you…” he muttered, a little forlornly because he could think of no other reason that she should be so hot to the touch, a touch that he dared even though it felt like she scorched him as he pressed his lips to her brow, nuzzling the forelock away from her eyes.
“You’re burning up!” he cried.
“I feel fine,” she lied.
Spark didn’t feel fine, she felt… hot.
She felt him lean into brush his lips against her brow, and she felt cornered with nowhere to go. It was the first time she felt like his touch was unwelcome, and it sparked something in her - the anger maybe, and she could feel it building as she lied through her teeth to him, her twin, her everything until Giver came along. The only thing she could do was climb to her feet, shake her head in warning at him but it was too late, he was still too close when it happened --
Spark exploded.
That’s too dramatic.
Erupted; her skin bubbled and blistered and broke before sloughing off. She stood there, a small thing of living flame.
Spear’s mouth fell open; he’d leapt back of course but not in time.
Parts of his face had been singed by the whoosh of fire that his sister became, and his whiskers smoked from where they had caught flame. “S-sp-spark?” he said stuttering and incredulous as he stared at the mare made of fire. He recovered long enough to splutter, “What the hell?” but she only looked at him, one eye still black and the other still red somehow, amidst all that fire that swirled around in the shape of her now vague face.
“Hush,” she bids him in a crackling tongue of fire and an instant later, she is nothing more than horseflesh and bone. She hides her surprise well, as she sidles up next to her brother, still dwarfed by him but now so much more than him too, and she can feel that chasm of difference yawning between them again, deeper, more divided, wider even. If she mourns it, that too, she hides from him as she trails her lips along his crest ending in a nibble at his shoulder.