07-15-2015, 10:05 PM
what is dead may never die;
For all her (short) time in this world, Aletheia has been accustomed to receiving. It's not that she thinks on it consciously; to her it is just like breathing, not something that she thinks is strange, not something that she thinks about at all. She absorbs a tiny bit from everything she touches, every blade of grass, every plant, every flower. Stay long enough, and she would absorb more. It's a simple and beautiful calculus.
It had taken her some time to apply it to horses. In fact, the first time had been accidental, and had shocked Theia almost as much as it had shocked Dimora. But since then she'd grown more accustomed to it, less likely to be shocked by it, and more inclined to be aware of it in a general way. And with that awareness came a certain capacity to use it as leverage when necessary.
Perhaps it is because she is so accustomed to receiving that she notices so quickly when Antimony tries to feed on her. Outwardly, her face and body betray nothing, barely even the fact that she recognizes anything is occurring at all. It is beautiful, how accidentally stoic she is, how she can let things wash over her and handle it all with an otherworldly grace. But this is different. It is a sensation of surprise, but it is a pleasant one – almost like letting one's hair down after a long day. The pleasure only lasts for a moment before Aletheia grows uncomfortable. This is not the natural order of things; she is not meant to be taken from. She is meant to take.
Reflexively, easily, she walks forward and presses her body into Antimony's.
And in that moment, the circuit completes, with the result of – well, a feedback loop.
As Antimony feeds, Aletheia absorbs. Theia does not feed, at least not in the classic way – she's more of a power switch that's stuck in the "on" position, a vacuum that cannot be disabled. Place anything over the mouth of its hose, and it will be sucked up. So too with Aletheia: come near her, touch her, and she will begin to absorb.
Pressed against Antimony, she can feel the other girl starting to melt into her. It is a strange sensation; she's not been touched by a horse for more than a fraction of a second since Infection had traced her crest with his rotting lips, which had been an altogether different sensation. This is neither pleasant nor unpleasant, neither good nor bad.
At least, for her.
"Yes you do." she says quietly, her voice delicate like ice. There is no scolding, no scorn, just soft observation. "You know exactly what I mean." She does not care about forcing Antimony to admit or deny anything. The thought hadn't even crossed her mind. She simply cares that they not talk circles around each other, that they get the truth out plain.
"Most horses are not like us." she continues, enumerating in case Antimony was somehow truly naieve. "Why are you this way?" Again, there is no ire, nothing but honest curiosity, so detached that it might almost be scientific. Perhaps it is a rude question. Perhaps it is a question that Antimony, like Aletheia herself, cannot answer. But the grey girl cannot help it. She's never encountered another living creature that feels the way Antimony feels. She's never encountered anything else that seems to take from others, and she is as close as she has ever been to being fascinated.
It had taken her some time to apply it to horses. In fact, the first time had been accidental, and had shocked Theia almost as much as it had shocked Dimora. But since then she'd grown more accustomed to it, less likely to be shocked by it, and more inclined to be aware of it in a general way. And with that awareness came a certain capacity to use it as leverage when necessary.
Perhaps it is because she is so accustomed to receiving that she notices so quickly when Antimony tries to feed on her. Outwardly, her face and body betray nothing, barely even the fact that she recognizes anything is occurring at all. It is beautiful, how accidentally stoic she is, how she can let things wash over her and handle it all with an otherworldly grace. But this is different. It is a sensation of surprise, but it is a pleasant one – almost like letting one's hair down after a long day. The pleasure only lasts for a moment before Aletheia grows uncomfortable. This is not the natural order of things; she is not meant to be taken from. She is meant to take.
Reflexively, easily, she walks forward and presses her body into Antimony's.
And in that moment, the circuit completes, with the result of – well, a feedback loop.
As Antimony feeds, Aletheia absorbs. Theia does not feed, at least not in the classic way – she's more of a power switch that's stuck in the "on" position, a vacuum that cannot be disabled. Place anything over the mouth of its hose, and it will be sucked up. So too with Aletheia: come near her, touch her, and she will begin to absorb.
Pressed against Antimony, she can feel the other girl starting to melt into her. It is a strange sensation; she's not been touched by a horse for more than a fraction of a second since Infection had traced her crest with his rotting lips, which had been an altogether different sensation. This is neither pleasant nor unpleasant, neither good nor bad.
At least, for her.
"Yes you do." she says quietly, her voice delicate like ice. There is no scolding, no scorn, just soft observation. "You know exactly what I mean." She does not care about forcing Antimony to admit or deny anything. The thought hadn't even crossed her mind. She simply cares that they not talk circles around each other, that they get the truth out plain.
"Most horses are not like us." she continues, enumerating in case Antimony was somehow truly naieve. "Why are you this way?" Again, there is no ire, nothing but honest curiosity, so detached that it might almost be scientific. Perhaps it is a rude question. Perhaps it is a question that Antimony, like Aletheia herself, cannot answer. But the grey girl cannot help it. She's never encountered another living creature that feels the way Antimony feels. She's never encountered anything else that seems to take from others, and she is as close as she has ever been to being fascinated.
but rises again
Aletheia
harder and stronger