some by virtue fall; any

[Aurane]

We have assembled inside
This ancient and insane theater,

She is not quite like herself, right now. 
She had been fed by that shaded man, and basked, for the winter, in the imagery of his offering: something cloaked in darkness, taking from the trees their purplish shadows and subsuming them to itself; or itself to them.

She is a moth to flames; a greedy magpie. So as she grew fatter and her madness nourished itself on the flux of her body’s elements, so did her fantasies of the growing curiosity inside her ribs. Pacing the iron woods, the red woman had become drawn out and gaunt looking, ravaged by her passenger tossing inside. (She felt penumbral claws reaching down her thighs to meet the grey-green of the jack pines, a proud grotesque.)

But she is so plain, instead. Blue, like her sire, but lacking completely the oddities that made him such a fascination. Had the red woman not found her eyeless treasure she may have loosened herself from the filly by now. But Ribcage seems to find the girl entertaining, and so she lets him have her for himself. 
(In the millisecond blackouts of her blinks, and in the longer preludes of her sleep, Aurane sees the boy become big and morph – magnificent and muscular, bearing otherworldly teeth. And he is the answer to her heady hopes and dream. A conqueror at her fingertips.)

The pair roils alongside her, pressed at length by the fury of her teeth, caught on edge by their incessant neediness.
She is hollow-eyed. Like him. But her reason is far less bacchanalian. It is drudgery, thick like tar weighing her down. Michaelis had shown beautiful carelessness for his kin in finding his way into her. Trusting her was a strange decision; or, he had given it no thought at all.

It is his fire that catches her tired eyes. And she is familiar with fire.
She knows fire. (The firegod said it hurts.) 
And that had been attractive to her. Because in her mind, all things burn or strike mildly, and at her will. She is arrogantly sure of herself. When the deep bay mare closes the gap between them, and his quiet is intruded on by the squawks of young lungs, she smiles and tilts her head, “It would not take much flame to shut them up, would it?” (I wonder what that smells like... maybe... ask him or something...?)

The facetiousness in it is hard to find.
Her eyes flicker with his tame fire, (it catches down his leg and grows wild, and the pine needles go up despite the sog of spring. Ash, and bone. But Ribcage is left, and so is she and he looks at her with carnivore eyes...) 

“I'm Aurane.”