their silent thunder matches mine; any

[adna]

and if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones
‘cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs

Everything within her splits her apart.

She wants to be her mother’s daughter. She wants to respond with the kindness that her mother has always shown. She wants to be sweet and soft and accept the offer with a quick twist of the lip. She wants to be that young girl of her youth. The one with the bounce in her step and the laugh in her voice.

But she doesn’t know that girl anymore.

She can’t find it anywhere in her aching, bruised heart.

Instead she is her father’s daughter. She is brittle with her pain and her edges are sharp. Her serpentine eyes are bruised and her lips want nothing more than to peel back from her fangs. She can feel them now, the sharp edges of them pressed against the thick velvet of her lip, the poison in them a dark promise.

She’s never once bitten into something. Never felt that release of toxins.

She loathes the wild desire that beats painfully behind her eyes now.

Her vision wavers between the vision of prey and predator and she feels her pulse stammering in her chest as she tries to keep a slippery hold on her control. “I have my mother’s coloring,” she manages, her voice still tight, the vision of her broken and hollow mother almost as painful as the image of her father standing over that crumpled child. Where had it gone so wrong? Where had they broken?

“Why would I go to Nerine?” she says, confusion flickering across her face. She’s never been to the field before—knows its purpose but forgets it in the moment with her heart pounding and her vision blurring.

“I think I should go,” she says, shaking her elegant head, trembling.

“I shouldn't be here. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

adna

we're setting fire to our insides for fun
collecting pictures from a flood that wrecked our home

@[Eurwen]