There's a song in your lung and a dream in your eye. (Perse)

[perse]

i wanted pomegranates— i wanted darkness— i wanted him. To Perse, the greatest tragedy of her life was that she was made to leave Him. Had she had her way, she would have stayed there forever in His lair, taken apart and rebuilt a hundred times. She would have bled and broken for Him, burned for Him, let Him write stories on her bones. But He had had other plans, had sent (cast) her out with the intention of finding her others. (She doesn’t know she is meant to salt her mothers’ gaping wounds, the ones she ripped when He took her, that He has a personal vendetta against Cordis and Spyndle.) It is a great and terrible tragedy, to be without Him, but Perse is strong, and she is obedient. “He doesn’t always let them, you know,” she says. She’d seen it. Sometimes, he would bring others into the lair and He would ruin them. She’d never questioned this, of course, but she hadn’t particularly liked it. The way their eyes grew dull. “You must be special,” she says. She wonders why He didn’t leave her in pieces. Why he took the time to glue her back together, albeit marked. Her muzzle rests on the mare, coming down between one of the fractures. She is curious of the texture – if it feels like skin or like something else altogether. She is curious of many things about Joscelin. p e r s e ------------------------------cordis x spyndle