[open] i got a secret starting to rust

[Iris]

all things are poisons

for there is nothing without poisonous qualities.

Sometimes the places she went felt like her home. The dead chittered in her ear, telling her story after story, painting pictures in her mind until she could imagine herself standing there in the midst of the scene. The places she went - even dead places like this (especially dead places like this) - came alive as the past haunted her in such a lovely, beautiful way. So many feared the dead, and yet Iris could not figure why. There was nothing to fear from a life lived and past.

He dissolves into the shadows as he speaks, and she wonders faintly if he does it out of habit or in some vain attempt to spook her. If the latter, it does not work. If the former, then she does not blame him. He grins like the Cheshire Cat, teeth and eyes glowing from the shadows, the only indication he is still there. Well that, and his magic poking around in her mind.

Her mother had taught her this sensation too, and moreover, had taught her how to construct walls should the need arise. Without the proper trait, there was only so much Iris could block, but she had no secrets to hide and did not really care. He could poke around all he wanted - there was nothing exciting to find. Still, because she cannot let him do so as if she were some unsuspecting fool, she lets her own poison creep into her head, wondering if her power would work on such an intangible thing as magic. There’s no effort to make him sick, or even uncomfortable, just a desire to make sure he knows that she is not a thing to be toyed with. She may not be stronger than him, but that did not make her weak.

”The ghosts found you. You…excite them. Though apparently not enough that they know your name. Perhaps you would care to share it?”

it is only the dose that matters

iris

photo by cottonbro

@ jamie