01-12-2016, 10:51 AM
 i wanted darkness— i wanted him. There is a danger, to her. She is dangerous because her presence elicits questions Perse should not ask. She is dangerous because there is a story told in her cracked smile that Perse wants to know the ending of. She is dangerous because there is possibility in the way she touches Perse, a possibility she wants to and dares not explore. Acolytes should not have questions such as these in their lungs, and she knows it, knows in her heart that she should leave her (even if leaving the first time had caused a queer ache in her bones, somewhere deep in the marrow). But there is wanting. There is wanting that swims in her veins like silverfish. Her road has never divided until now, the path has always been straight and stick-narrow, has always been a path to Him. (There has never been a her.) Two roads, diverged. (Somewhere she thinks of her mother. Cordis could tell a story much like this one. But they are not the same, Perse is so much more than her. Whatever happens, Perse will not be destroyed. Whatever happens, Perse is His, and is not afraid to say so.) He hasn’t come back for you yet. No. He came and seeded the land with star-children, purples and blues and pinks, stars scattered across hindquarters like they’d spilled out from heaven, but not for her. No. She called His name into the void and heard nothing but a shrieking wind that might have been laughter. Or might have just been the wind. “No, He hasn’t,” she says. Maybe it’s important. Maybe it’s not. She is a patient woman, a devout one. Isn’t she? “I think about you,” she says, because it seems almost safe, to say it like that, “more than I should, maybe.” ------------------------------cordis x spyndle |
that only took forever