12-27-2018, 07:15 PM
Beyond -
In wildness;
She was bound to him; through pain and pleasure, the two synonymous with one another.
Each of them had been degraded to basic need - sex, food, survival. Sun and moon and star, season after season, hot and cold - all this and more, saw them together and apart, but never far from one another. She trailed him like the tail of a comet; the color of fire and bone painted across her skin as she sought the butter-slick color of him across lands that had no names known to them.
Goat-horns had replaced boar-tusks in her dreams and she knew her death was tied to him as very much as her beginning had belonged to another.
That other has become an afterthought; a memoir of stolen childhood and time ripped asunder. There is only the story they draw out of each other in bites and kicks and copulations. The kind of story that is crafted out of themselves, the very bits of fur and hair that they give up to one another in their quarrels and apologies and these too, become offerings to wind and water and branch.
Most of all, she gives him blood and faithfulness.
If he is a god - then she lies at his feet and worships him, through tears and spit and blood. She is sacrifice over and over again; a satiation of need despite however much she goes wandering from him, only to come right back and absolve him of his need. So too, has she given him other things - like sons and daughters, and barren seasons in between.
Sinew gives as much as she takes, for she takes small tastes of his fear and madness (though has he ever been truly mad or just cunning?) and devours then before spinning them back out of herself in a glistening web of entrails that tells them their future. The same kind of future that could be read in wind and star, in the very ways that their shadows and skins intertwine. Forever.
So she follows, ever at a distance as the hunger drives him towards lunatic need that she’ll allow him to sate in his best and favorite ways - through Fear. Maybe even death; murder has a certain taste and he’s gone without long enough. Sinew might find someone for him, because sometimes she is helpful like that and the way he is after… ah, it’s the best or so says the sly smile on her lips.
But his brethren find him; sons and grandsons bearing his like and she gives him his time with them. Lingers back in the forest, in the arms of pine and birch as autumn turns it all golden for a brief last respite before the long cold winter promises to set in. His time, she thinks and still that smile that sits upon her lips - upon a mouth cruel and thin, as she considers and bides her time until he is sniffing at her side, hungering in one fashion or another.
@[Pollock] ❤️