08-26-2018, 11:13 PM
there’s no part of scripture that ever prepared you for his hands - hands that map
a communion in the cradle of your hips. hands that kiss hymns up your sides.
and, oh, you put him on his knees.
@[Murc]
a communion in the cradle of your hips. hands that kiss hymns up your sides.
Perhaps she has been proud from the day she was born but she can’t seem to recall that long ago. There are memories of being around three, of being old enough to be on her own and thinking that that meant she understood the world. Everclear tried to set her down the right path in life but she laughed in his face when his kingdom crashed around him. She mouthed off to anyone and slandered kings with no thought for the consequences – though when consequences came knocking she was quick to answer them too. Her heart swells with pride knowing that her mouth and her anger knew no defeat.
Her ear swivels to catch his words of warning and she turns her head to match his gaze, daring him to speak further. She’s older now, wiser than before but still headstrong and ready to take on the world.
“I have nothing that might interest anyone this season,” she says with something like a snarl. Her biting words blend the sharp tone and a feminine purr to her voice. In truth, it is not his words that upset her, but rather their waste on someone like her. This body is a desert and she is as empty as the winter fields. Life was never meant to find its place within her womb and the knowledge of this has birthed a fury in her that refuses to settle. It smolders quietly in her heart and burns like a thousand white hot suns galaxies away.
He reminds her of Everclear in that he means so well but says things she’d rather not hear. Neither of them is her father and they could never be Chernobyl. Neither of them would want to be.
“My name is Virgo, not mare.”
Her bright eyes remain narrowed but the front she puts on is more hostile than she truthfully is. She’s got a world of hurt all pent up inside of her and it breaks through at any given opportunity. If she were a little more self-aware, she would apologize for taking this all out on him. But she’s only vaguely aware of the demons in her closet and she prefers to keep it that way. Perhaps they can forge a friendship despite the way she bristles so easily.
Her ear swivels to catch his words of warning and she turns her head to match his gaze, daring him to speak further. She’s older now, wiser than before but still headstrong and ready to take on the world.
“I have nothing that might interest anyone this season,” she says with something like a snarl. Her biting words blend the sharp tone and a feminine purr to her voice. In truth, it is not his words that upset her, but rather their waste on someone like her. This body is a desert and she is as empty as the winter fields. Life was never meant to find its place within her womb and the knowledge of this has birthed a fury in her that refuses to settle. It smolders quietly in her heart and burns like a thousand white hot suns galaxies away.
He reminds her of Everclear in that he means so well but says things she’d rather not hear. Neither of them is her father and they could never be Chernobyl. Neither of them would want to be.
“My name is Virgo, not mare.”
Her bright eyes remain narrowed but the front she puts on is more hostile than she truthfully is. She’s got a world of hurt all pent up inside of her and it breaks through at any given opportunity. If she were a little more self-aware, she would apologize for taking this all out on him. But she’s only vaguely aware of the demons in her closet and she prefers to keep it that way. Perhaps they can forge a friendship despite the way she bristles so easily.
Virgo
he confesses how long he’s looked for a place to worshipand, oh, you put him on his knees.