[private] let it all go, sochi

[sochi]

SOCHI

She remembers what it was like to be young—to be foolish.

(In some ways, she still is, will perhaps be forever.)

So maybe she recognizes that in his eyes. Understands the shadow of innocence that manifests in an inability to be afraid although, she knows, that it is not always naivety that breeds such boundless courage but something deeper and darker instead. She could be merciful here, she knows. She could stay her hand and choose to talk instead but there is something dark inside of her too—something that doesn’t understand her life once more and seeks outlets in places she shouldn’t. Release in the blood flow.

He leans into the touch and her teeth find that his flesh and muscle give as she had thought they might.

It feels so painfully good to feel the copper flood over her tongue and she moans slightly, her silver eyes fluttering shut as she just savors the moment—that beautiful release when the skin breaks. She barely even notices when he brushes against her shoulder although her skin flinches lightly underneath the touch, a breath of acknowledge of touch. He draws away and she withdraws, her mouth painted crimson.

“Bored,” she says with a glimmer of something unreadable in her eyes, something that constricts her heart in her chest. Something that causes her pulse to roar until her vision nearly goes blurry on the edges.

This time, she doesn’t act first, although she knows exactly how she would sate this boredom.

How she would sate the things she does not say—confused, frustrated, anchorless.

But she waits instead, curious of his reaction.

she said a war ain't a war before both sides bleed