07-13-2015, 02:51 PM
 i wanted darkness— i wanted him-- She does not want to be here, in this world that’s too bright (she prefers to glow, a burnished centerpiece, than to reflect). She does not want to be here because He is not here, the place does not smell of Him. The small comfort is she can see some of Him in many of the residents, His brood, ensuring His blood says writ across the history of His birthland. She misses Him so deeply that her stomach feels hollowed. She feels too clean, her skin crawls with Him flaying it open. She misses the sight of her bones protruding, the cloud of pain so sweet and furious it was all she knew, all she loved. But He had asked her and so, she obeyed. She’s a very good girl, after all. Had she known, that she would come? (Had He?) For a moment she doesn’t even recognize her. She recalls her parents the way children to, as things beautiful and impossible, larger than life. This mare is small and weak and practically pathetic. (But then, she had been in His grasp and she had turned away, preferred the embrace of her other mother, His old pet, His failed pet.) She prefers to think herself as something that sprung, whole, into being. She doesn’t like to think she is the result of anything so base and animalistic as copulation (though granted, the two mothers suggested some magic involvement, of course.) The mare – her mother – comes, walks heavy like Atlas bearing a world on their shoulders. Are you real, she asks, and for a moment Perse is struck with memory, of her mothers, of a field bright with meadowsweet and hazel. “I certainly hope so,” she says, and laughs, false and high. She grounds herself. She is not their daughter anymore. She is nothing but His. “Mother,” she says, then, because it is what He would want, “mother, I’ve missed you so.” ------------------------------cordis x spyndle |