and if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones
‘cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs
Adna does not seek out company often.
She has begun to see the truth of what she is—the reality that coils dangerously beneath the surface. She knows that the poison that drips from her fangs is not nearly as insidious as that which runs through her veins and spills from her tongue. She knows that for all of the redemption arc of her father and the overall loveliness of her mother that she will never be able to live up to the picture perfect life they have built.
Even her children—so perfect and beautiful in every way—cannot soothe the constant ache of her heart. Not even her sister—as angry and frustrated as she—can truly temper the rage that sets her aflame each morning like dry kindling. It takes everything she has to keep it at bay, to stem the endless hunger.
She stays in Loess, although she is not sure why.
Perhaps because she likes to torment herself by being on the outside of a land that was once her home. The land that she once scamped up and down like a billy goat at her father’s side. Now she is nothing but a specter; she haunts the edges of it, watching the only boy she has ever had any semblance of feelings for with the woman who truly captures his heart. Him and his perfect family, so happy together.
It cuts at her until she finally breaks from Loess for the day. She is nearly blind with it, her sage green eyes bright as she cuts through the common lands until she finds the meadows. She does her best to stick to what she believes is an empty field only to feel the vibrations of something massive settling down.
It should frighten her—but it only thrills her.
It cuts through the fog of pain so that she tears through the brushes and the bramble until she finds the clearing, her fangs only barely showing against her lip. But when she gets there, there is but a man.
She pauses, the branches scraping against her scaled sides, eyes narrowing in thought.
Her vision flickers between normal and thermal, studying him as prey might predator, before her gaze finally settles onto his own. She is disheveled and unruly and has just crashed into the place where he has stood, but she offers no introduction or apology. Instead she merely straightens and stares boldly.
adna
we're setting fire to our insides for fun
collecting pictures from a flood that wrecked our home