She thinks she was in love, once. But maybe only the once. His face is hardly a blur in her mind but something stirs between her ribs when she remembers his name. Some ugly, crippled thing breathes into life when she whispers it to no one at all but she never lets that soft, supple weakness out for long before she chokes the light from it once more. There is only ever room for her children, now. She watches them from afar and admires the way they grow and run and die right in front of her eyes.
Someday, she hopes this immortality dies with her.
But there is a face that draws her from her little hiding place today, out into the sun that has forgotten the strong curve of her shoulders and the scars that shine across her hips. Her left temple is discolored from the day he bashed her skull in but she doesn’t seem to mind anymore. Water under the bridge. She laughs a little at her own joke and steps closer, tracing her lips over his shoulder as she tries to remember the brief little life they had together.
Does he still taste the same? She wonders, because she can’t quite recall when he was her honey and wine. That was so many lives ago. Mordgeld still felt things down to her bones back then and she’d give it all up to return to that place.
“My name is Mordgeld,” she says, smiles like she’s still young and coy. “What’s yours?”
Her smile doesn’t pull quite so far to the left, with scar tissue freezing some parts of her face. But she turns her head so he doesn’t have to see the ugly marks he left her with. Instead, she just offers her good side like maybe he forgot. She wants to ask if he saw all the beautiful children that their son helped bring into the world but she keeps these thoughts to herself. Today is not the day to free that crooked, hungry heart.
i am the dragon breathing fire.
beautiful man, i'm the lion.
@[garbage] wait a minute this isnt my finance homework. woops.
Someday, she hopes this immortality dies with her.
But there is a face that draws her from her little hiding place today, out into the sun that has forgotten the strong curve of her shoulders and the scars that shine across her hips. Her left temple is discolored from the day he bashed her skull in but she doesn’t seem to mind anymore. Water under the bridge. She laughs a little at her own joke and steps closer, tracing her lips over his shoulder as she tries to remember the brief little life they had together.
Does he still taste the same? She wonders, because she can’t quite recall when he was her honey and wine. That was so many lives ago. Mordgeld still felt things down to her bones back then and she’d give it all up to return to that place.
“My name is Mordgeld,” she says, smiles like she’s still young and coy. “What’s yours?”
Her smile doesn’t pull quite so far to the left, with scar tissue freezing some parts of her face. But she turns her head so he doesn’t have to see the ugly marks he left her with. Instead, she just offers her good side like maybe he forgot. She wants to ask if he saw all the beautiful children that their son helped bring into the world but she keeps these thoughts to herself. Today is not the day to free that crooked, hungry heart.
MordgelD
beautiful man, i'm the lion.