05-11-2015, 03:26 PM
and when I breathed, my breath was lightning
She has never understood love. Not the type her mother and father had, anyway, the same type she imagines Kora one day will find. Yes, she is loving and kind, but she doesn’t love as they did. Could it even be called love? Could it be defined so simply? Perhaps. Not as love, but as passion or lust or electric attraction (quite literally) but none of those words quite did it justice either. Perhaps their love is not so impressive as to be indescribable, immortal, impossible – but it was more than just a word.
Always, when he leaves, she is reeling. Reeling at what she could be, at what she kept hidden beneath the golden skin she wore. That’s when the call comes; ill timing, maybe. But she doesn’t think so. Because she’s feeling reckless and powerful. Because in those words, in that her there’s something deeper than just a command or a request, though she cannot put her finger on the word for that either, with her head all abuzz with electric.
Maybe she shouldn’t. Probably she shouldn’t. But she does. She follows the command to the place where he waits, where the world doesn’t feel quite right but tinged with magic. Like the edges of her vision have gone all fuzzy. She doesn’t speak, because her being here is all the agreement that he could possibly need. There had been no magic behind that command, nothing to force her legs forward without her own choice. But she does growl, low and rumbling and agreeable.
It was time to stop being pretty, perfect little Rhy. Her father was gone, and she was no longer his little girl.
Always, when he leaves, she is reeling. Reeling at what she could be, at what she kept hidden beneath the golden skin she wore. That’s when the call comes; ill timing, maybe. But she doesn’t think so. Because she’s feeling reckless and powerful. Because in those words, in that her there’s something deeper than just a command or a request, though she cannot put her finger on the word for that either, with her head all abuzz with electric.
Maybe she shouldn’t. Probably she shouldn’t. But she does. She follows the command to the place where he waits, where the world doesn’t feel quite right but tinged with magic. Like the edges of her vision have gone all fuzzy. She doesn’t speak, because her being here is all the agreement that he could possibly need. There had been no magic behind that command, nothing to force her legs forward without her own choice. But she does growl, low and rumbling and agreeable.
It was time to stop being pretty, perfect little Rhy. Her father was gone, and she was no longer his little girl.
rhy
the electric lioness of riagan and rayelle
