06-24-2015, 08:38 PM
Perhaps she is the first to find him, when he comes to the underworld. It might be immediate, or it might be years - time flows differently here.
She walks to him then, saying nothing, her brown eyes - ghosts's eyes - speaking emotions that her fragile, awkward mouth could never manage. She stops before him, her hawk's wings faded like an old photograph. She doesn't speak of their children; she doesn't worry for them, she's seen what Covet had given to them, more than she ever could. She doesn't speak of their past; it's all written right there, in the silence that hangs so heavily in the air between them. She doesn't speak of their future; she knows too well the endless time that speeds and crawls here in the land of the dead, and she wonders if he knows, or suspects, that truth.
She speaks, instead and only, of the present that hangs perfectly suspended between what was and what will be.
"Hello Covet." Her voice sounds prettier here, more dreamy, less grating. "You're looking...clean today."
She walks to him then, saying nothing, her brown eyes - ghosts's eyes - speaking emotions that her fragile, awkward mouth could never manage. She stops before him, her hawk's wings faded like an old photograph. She doesn't speak of their children; she doesn't worry for them, she's seen what Covet had given to them, more than she ever could. She doesn't speak of their past; it's all written right there, in the silence that hangs so heavily in the air between them. She doesn't speak of their future; she knows too well the endless time that speeds and crawls here in the land of the dead, and she wonders if he knows, or suspects, that truth.
She speaks, instead and only, of the present that hangs perfectly suspended between what was and what will be.
"Hello Covet." Her voice sounds prettier here, more dreamy, less grating. "You're looking...clean today."