[open] cut open my heart right at the scar, any

[neuna]

NEUNA

these things the ancient maidens whirl on 
with rushing thread of brazen spindles.

Ischia had been swallowed up by the sea.
Plunged into the ocean that had so tenderly kissed its shores.

It had happened so suddenly, without warning, and the girls had so narrowly been saved from the water by their mother.

And now.
And now they wander and the third daughter has half a mind to return to Pangea, to find the father they had left behind. But the wolf calls her a fool and he is not the first.

Instead, she goes to the common lands. She has lost track of the sisters, her sisters, and instead strikes out alone. She returns to the edge of the river where she had encountered the fury of a stranger, his anger leeching the strength out of her, dimming the vibrant glow of the love that coursed through her. (How could love thrive in the face of so much hate?)

But there is no one there at the river’s edge as she sinks toward it. The sun shines brilliant overhead and, as always, all things are haloed in vivid white light (a defect of the eyes rather than any real, tangible thing). 

The wolf watches as she smiles quietly to herself, exchanging a quick glance with the shadow-thing before she shifts into the cupid that lurks beneath the surface of her skin. And she is fully grown now, an adult by all standards, but there is inescapable youth in the soft face, the downy wings, the curls of her mane. 

The wolf rolls its eyes as she descends into the cool water, shivering with delight. 

[Lior]

lior

Since leaving the caves of Nerine, Lior has told himself that he make a life worth living. All of his children are grown and off in their lives. He is proud of the history they wrote themselves, carving their names into stone tablets. He had simply been a queensguard, lover to the crown and her protector but he does not regret it at all...but the nights have grown cold since Nayl had left on her own accord but he stayed for when she found her words and her peace...but she never returned.

Lior brushes it all away with the toss of his tangled black mane. The river has guided him through the forest with it's quiet coos but it was more so the itch of the dirt that coated his inky coat, that was the real reason. Cracked hooves carry his scarred body to the water's edge before plunging rather unceremoniously into the water with a grunt. The silver white eyes immediately shut in a grimace as the cool waters embrace him. He needs this because he smells, admit it.

Lior lowers himself into the water when it no longer passes his belly so he may get his spine. He sighs lowly, grunting, before diving beneath the surface momentarily. A quick shake and swish and then he breaks the water's surface like the sputtering land creature he is before... 'fuck...', he realizes he is not a lone.

A mare, barely, is some distance away, daintily parting the water. Lior watches with dripping hair, like a wretched sea monster, without a moment's embarrassment. Lior tended to lack a sense of those proper emotions but he is certain his immoral descent into the water was rather loud. The stallion rises out of the water to his proper height with water spraying and running down his scarred skin like broken tributaries. "Oh, pardon for the intrusion." He murmurs lowly as the mare bathed like a river nymph. Lior looks away to the river's edge briefly as he ponders when he take his leave (never mind the dark wolf staring at him).

but i can still remember just the way you taste