02-10-2016, 02:27 PM
 i wanted darkness— i wanted him. Her power is not strength (indeed, though she shines silver she has no magic), nor is she particularly cunning. Instead, her power lies in this: it is never enough. He flayed her, burned her, drowned her. She let him. She did not say no. She loved it, even, the pain. Somewhere wires crossed, tangled, so instead she loves what destroys her. (She loves Him. Surely, she does.) And maybe that’s why she’s attracted to the fractures left split across her skin. She knows there is power in this woman – not the kind of power He wields, but it is still the power to hurt and maim and kill, the kind some terrible base part of her craves. But there is another kind of danger, too. The way Joscelin says beautiful is a new kind of dangerous, a danger that flits in her stomach like trapped birds. I’m glad, says the mare, and Perse smiles – the slight arrogance of it compels her. Though gladness does not meant there is any reciprocity – she doesn’t know if she sits in the cracked mare’s mind the same way, doesn’t know if she traipses across her thoughts at all. To the second question, she says, “yes.” It is quick, and she does not hesitate. Because she does, of course. She is His, branded – her entire self is His doing, molded and shaped by callous hands. He is father and brother and lover and god to her, and she must think of Him. (Even if she thinks of her too.) ------------------------------cordis x spyndle |