a thousand teeth and yours among them; straia

[Straia]

i am the violence in the pouring rain

i am a hurricane

They were so alike. It was what drew them together, that desire to be themselves (impossibly wild and alive with the possibilities of the world). It would also likely be their downfall. She could not lie to him even if she wanted, because he would know. He could not lie to her either. They could taste the truth of one another’s words in their own mouths, knew how the other could craft a lie. It is good, of course, that neither seeks to deceive the other. But what happens when the time came for deceit? Because eventually, it might be necessary.

She served the Chamber. He served himself.

But she does not think of that, because she cannot truly imagine a situation in which they would not be honest. She could imagine simply telling him should one day the status quo change. She can imagine them burning each other to the ground instead of burning the world to the ground, but wouldn’t that be a beautiful thing too. She could end that like, lost beneath his vines and he beneath her ravens. They could destroy the world first, and eventually, they might one day also destroy each other.

One accidental slip of a talon over the wrong vein. A moment’s grip too long from the kiss of a vine.

He admits that he missed her at all, and she is surprised at how those words settle over her like a comforting blanket. Surprised at how much she enjoys hearing the words, even if the sentiment does not surprise her. Of course he missed her, in the same way she had missed him. That gnawing at the back of her mind, that impossible to shake thought. Still, she sinks into him a bit more as he whispers the words.

He switches topics, the vines on her legs tighter now, and she does not mind. Neither of them can stay in that place long, where words are soft and emotions are raw. They are not creatures that wear emotions on their sleeves and tongues. They are creatures of action, of little gifts and hints of pain. A smile curves on his lips at the idea. “I suspect we are facing a war. Against the Gates, with perhaps the rest of Beqanna on their side.” It would be an unfair fight, certainly, if the Amazons sided with the Gates. Not that this would stop the Chamber and the Valley, but she wanted every advantage they could get.

“Perhaps if we can divide our would be enemies, it would be better for everyone all around.” Better, of course, is a lose term. Better for the Chamber. Better for Straia and Weed, as the world breaks apart. Piece by piece, until the fractures are too large to fix. “Which of your rumors would be the best for that?”

straia

the raven queen of the chamber