I snicker as he snaps at the air, teeth clacking with satisfactory sharpness on the empty space. He would eat the world I think, if I asked him too. How reckless that makes me feel. How vibrantly alive.
I think that has been my missing piece, my cornerstone gone astray. Life, and living, and reasons to keep going on. If I thought about it, I could live on the edge of some convenient cliff. Fly off it and let the wind slip through my wings and break myself on whatever lay below so I could sleep with the dead until my body healed enough to wrench me back to life. Over and over again, breaking and renewing until my mind lost all sense of reason. Yes. I could do that.
Or.
I could take bites from the world. I could swallow it delicately, drowning in the blood of it just enough to keep my mind at ease. Suffocating only just as much as it takes to remind myself that I exist.
I grin haphazardly at Balto's stoic face. Oh yes, so serious, so grim and fiercesome. But I can see the turbulence behind his eyes. The bitter sweetness of not being in control. How freeing it is, to not be in control. I grant him that.
I jerk forward, a marionette with half the right number of strings. "You are too good to me," I sigh, breathy as a lovestruck two year old. A glitter of pastel swims in the corner of my vision. A witness. A portent. I sway for a moment, dizzy for lack of food, for lack of faith. Until my resolve hardens and I lurch toward my prize.
It is quickly done. So sudden I surprise myself with its having happened at all. But the evidence is between us, and undeniable. His marbled throat has been ignored, in favor of the naked chest now leaking red, red blood around the far reaching point of my javelin.
We are joined now, the blood of my curse binding us forever more. The little round soon-to-be scar I think went deep enough that he might carry it eternally. My breath is thin with the pain I've inflicted, my heart shifting uncomfortably in my breast. Fresh blood drips between the pair of us, until I reel back without warning, jerking the rod from his flesh carelessly.
"Call me Mistress." I rasp, gigging to myself as I wander deeper into the woods.
@[Balto]
I think that has been my missing piece, my cornerstone gone astray. Life, and living, and reasons to keep going on. If I thought about it, I could live on the edge of some convenient cliff. Fly off it and let the wind slip through my wings and break myself on whatever lay below so I could sleep with the dead until my body healed enough to wrench me back to life. Over and over again, breaking and renewing until my mind lost all sense of reason. Yes. I could do that.
Or.
I could take bites from the world. I could swallow it delicately, drowning in the blood of it just enough to keep my mind at ease. Suffocating only just as much as it takes to remind myself that I exist.
I grin haphazardly at Balto's stoic face. Oh yes, so serious, so grim and fiercesome. But I can see the turbulence behind his eyes. The bitter sweetness of not being in control. How freeing it is, to not be in control. I grant him that.
I jerk forward, a marionette with half the right number of strings. "You are too good to me," I sigh, breathy as a lovestruck two year old. A glitter of pastel swims in the corner of my vision. A witness. A portent. I sway for a moment, dizzy for lack of food, for lack of faith. Until my resolve hardens and I lurch toward my prize.
It is quickly done. So sudden I surprise myself with its having happened at all. But the evidence is between us, and undeniable. His marbled throat has been ignored, in favor of the naked chest now leaking red, red blood around the far reaching point of my javelin.
We are joined now, the blood of my curse binding us forever more. The little round soon-to-be scar I think went deep enough that he might carry it eternally. My breath is thin with the pain I've inflicted, my heart shifting uncomfortably in my breast. Fresh blood drips between the pair of us, until I reel back without warning, jerking the rod from his flesh carelessly.
"Call me Mistress." I rasp, gigging to myself as I wander deeper into the woods.
@[Balto]