They come, like vultures to a mess of skin and bone. Ah, but that is all that is intended. An audience, a soul. A beating heart beneath the throes of flesh and ribbed bone. the thought sits just behind my eyes, as I stand just beside the lofty oak. My dark eyes surveying those out there, I had not quite expected another to join my obscure vantage point, but as I hear the crunch of twig and leaf, my head turns, my body follows. Eyes easily pick out parts of him, like some witch tenderly picking the parts of the flower she wishes to throw into the cauldron. Oh, not that part, that is too broken, oh, but this part, the fleshy tones of life, they, they are most perfect.
'Everything should have a name. You give something a name, it has meaning, purpose.' there is a light of fire hidden in the dark lilt of my voice. The shudder of the leaves upon the wind, matching the rush of breath from my lips. The smirk dances across my lips, like a quick dart of a silver paintbrush against my ebony muzzle. 'Aiken. He is strong, he will see many and yet fall to none...' there are tales upon my tongue, whimsical words spun together. For no reason other than to stroke the gentle ego of my mind. Ah, but he, this jaguar spotted heathen, he purposefully tends to my ego.
'Demian. A martyr, to tame, to conquer' the wisp of a smirk falls, an astute line of contemplation as for the moment, the cogs and inner workings of my mind shift and creak, in need of a good oiling (when one has not conversed with any other than the trees, than the darkness, it needs a little adjusting.) 'I am Jynxs. A spell to bind, a hex to taint. I can be everything and yet can be nothing.' I pause here, taming the need to laugh, the urge to cackle into the darkness like some strange, cawing bird. 'If you were to turn into a tree, then there would be no question. For a man who can turn into the rugged oak, is worth following until the end of time.' The rouse of a that perfect smile quivers, lessens for a passing moment before broadening against my face, a twist of tender teeth and salmon tongue as I speak, as if summoning demons, as if talking to gods.
'But until then, I can ask all the questions I need and there will be no following, yet.' I take a stalking step forward, languid, almost lazy in it's stride. Square jaw twisting to turn, back to gaze across the light-strewn meadow, and then purposefully back to Demian, oblivion eyes finding him with a glitter, a glimmer of havoc. 'Do you prefer the shadows? They do little to hide you, you know. But then, I cannot talk.' The bob of my head as I chuckle, causes the horn atop my brow to quiver. I am as conspicuous as the orange birds that sit with ravens. and He, the conquerer, the martyr, he is as conspicuous as a jaguar sitting amongst lions. 'What is this valley like? For it must mean something to you, to announce it with your name...'
.
j y n x s
here in the forest dark and deep, i offer you, eternal sleep