12-20-2019, 01:43 AM
She has been away from months.
She has hunted and she has delighted in being hunted herself.
She has grown ever more feral. She is a rogue thing, delighting in her own devastation.
She has been away but she has not returned to Taiga. Because there is nothing left for her to find there. The heart – the cold, viper’s heart – has hardened in her chest so that now she does not even long for the mother she left behind. Her nopetiful, vicious mother. Still, the festering wound of her hatred for her father remains but it has begun to heal, too. Because these are insignificant things. Because they do not matter.
What matters is that darkness is falling over Pangea now. The days are beginning to shorten and she has begun to grow weary. She has grown bored of the things to hunt outside of Pangea. Nothing hunts her there, not even the dark things.
It is not difficult to find Ghaul, though they both have changed. Significantly. They have lost the things that made them children. And neither of them were ever innocent, but they perhaps could have passed for it if either of them had tried for sweetness.
He smells of the sea and nameless, faceless women and he remembers how he’d wanted her to bend to his will and how she’d refused. Because she would bend to and for no one. Because she is strong, she is fierce, the viper’s daughter.
“You’ve been busy,” she murmurs. An accusation. She had belonged to him once. Her heart, her allegiance, but she had been a child then and she is a woman now and she belongs to the wilds and to the venom that pulses through her.
She has hunted and she has delighted in being hunted herself.
She has grown ever more feral. She is a rogue thing, delighting in her own devastation.
She has been away but she has not returned to Taiga. Because there is nothing left for her to find there. The heart – the cold, viper’s heart – has hardened in her chest so that now she does not even long for the mother she left behind. Her nopetiful, vicious mother. Still, the festering wound of her hatred for her father remains but it has begun to heal, too. Because these are insignificant things. Because they do not matter.
What matters is that darkness is falling over Pangea now. The days are beginning to shorten and she has begun to grow weary. She has grown bored of the things to hunt outside of Pangea. Nothing hunts her there, not even the dark things.
It is not difficult to find Ghaul, though they both have changed. Significantly. They have lost the things that made them children. And neither of them were ever innocent, but they perhaps could have passed for it if either of them had tried for sweetness.
He smells of the sea and nameless, faceless women and he remembers how he’d wanted her to bend to his will and how she’d refused. Because she would bend to and for no one. Because she is strong, she is fierce, the viper’s daughter.
“You’ve been busy,” she murmurs. An accusation. She had belonged to him once. Her heart, her allegiance, but she had been a child then and she is a woman now and she belongs to the wilds and to the venom that pulses through her.
these violent delights have violent ends
g o s p e l,
