08-09-2016, 07:47 PM
The bats have left the bell tower
The victims have been bled
I can feel his eyes consuming me but...but I think I like it. What feeling does one feel that they like?
(pleasure)
I feel pleasure under his gaze. It confuses me, causes my mind to balk. I have only ever know fear and disappointment. I have only know pain and ugliness. But under this frightening, massive, dying, beautiful stallion I can feel something awaken in my soul. Like cracking an ugly stone that reveals to be a beautifully intricate geode, so is my soul. I am bare and those eyes see right through me.
Naked.
I can only peer from the thin veil of my forelock, upward to watch the dark lips of the man part slowly. I find myself craning to listen, watching closely as the moonlight expires only briefly by a slew of heavy gray clouds. In this time, shrouded in the darkest night yet, I hear him speak. Despite the darkness, I can still see his eyes.
They are all I can see. The spirits of horses long dead simply teeter on the edge of my view. They are too scared to come too closely. I have never dreamed this dream. The words echo in my mind but in all actually I have never either. I had determined my life was only in existence to be tortured by the dead but now...now I am not so sure.
Velis, though I do not know this, nears closer to me soundlessly. The scent of death that betrays him is no longer noticed by my senses. I want him closer. I want to touch him. I want to know why they fear him so. But as I watch the thick neck crest and crane to me, I catch my breath in anticipation but he stops. Something stops him and instead of his caress, I am stroked by the deep rumble of syllables.
He wants to know why and I do not know. I am not sure any answer I give would suffice so instead I chose to not answer. In place of my voice is my own touch. My lips move to gentle stroke his cheek, the texture like nothing I have ever known. My pewter eyes close in response as though I read his skin like braille. His scent is so much more than death and decay. The sourness that once stuns gives way to that of fertile soil, the wetness of freshly rained upon rocks. I feel intoxicated.
I move to pull back away from him. I am ready.
"Because you finally found me when I found you."
(pleasure)
I feel pleasure under his gaze. It confuses me, causes my mind to balk. I have only ever know fear and disappointment. I have only know pain and ugliness. But under this frightening, massive, dying, beautiful stallion I can feel something awaken in my soul. Like cracking an ugly stone that reveals to be a beautifully intricate geode, so is my soul. I am bare and those eyes see right through me.
Naked.
I can only peer from the thin veil of my forelock, upward to watch the dark lips of the man part slowly. I find myself craning to listen, watching closely as the moonlight expires only briefly by a slew of heavy gray clouds. In this time, shrouded in the darkest night yet, I hear him speak. Despite the darkness, I can still see his eyes.
They are all I can see. The spirits of horses long dead simply teeter on the edge of my view. They are too scared to come too closely. I have never dreamed this dream. The words echo in my mind but in all actually I have never either. I had determined my life was only in existence to be tortured by the dead but now...now I am not so sure.
Velis, though I do not know this, nears closer to me soundlessly. The scent of death that betrays him is no longer noticed by my senses. I want him closer. I want to touch him. I want to know why they fear him so. But as I watch the thick neck crest and crane to me, I catch my breath in anticipation but he stops. Something stops him and instead of his caress, I am stroked by the deep rumble of syllables.
He wants to know why and I do not know. I am not sure any answer I give would suffice so instead I chose to not answer. In place of my voice is my own touch. My lips move to gentle stroke his cheek, the texture like nothing I have ever known. My pewter eyes close in response as though I read his skin like braille. His scent is so much more than death and decay. The sourness that once stuns gives way to that of fertile soil, the wetness of freshly rained upon rocks. I feel intoxicated.
I move to pull back away from him. I am ready.
"Because you finally found me when I found you."
graveside