[private] lost to the way we were

[sochi]

sochi

Sochi understands the strange gravity that can pull you toward the thing that you knows may be what kills you. She knows what it is like to have your entire life orbit around the thing that you don’t understand, the thing that pulls you closer and closer into the heart of the sun. So she would understand the way that Jude’s heart races at the sight of blood and the sharp teeth—the death that drips off of her chin.

A pink tongue touches her lip and she tastes the copper again, shivers violently.

She considers shifting into her equine form, considers stepping forward, and even considers what it would be like to become fully predator—to snap her jaws at the throat of this mare the same way that she had snapped her jaws at the deer that now lies at her feet. But instead she does nothing. She just stands there, feeling the bite of the autumn chill, the moon washing them both silver in its glow.

At the singular word, Sochi glances down, nearly carelessly at the carcass in front of her. Her nose twitches slightly, whiskers moving just slightly, as she takes in the sight of her kill—the feel of the hunt not yet having faded from her. She could bask in the afterglow of it forever, she thinks. She would gladly let it rise up in her chest and wrap around her throat. She would gladly reduce her life to just this.

“It is,” she affirms, not caring if the mangled deer is what Jude thought was beautiful.

It is beautiful to Sochi because it is logical, it is easily understood. It is life.

She smiles lightly, to herself more than anything.

Because it is death, too. Perhaps that is what she likes most of all.

well, I can try to get you closer but I know you’d break your neck just to see the stars
and if we don’t dare to hold it then this reckless wandering love was never ours