05-27-2020, 01:28 AM
“I know when you go
down all your darkest roads
I would have followed all the way
to the graveyard.”
down all your darkest roads
I would have followed all the way
to the graveyard.”
She feels him in the moments before he reveals himself; an inexplicable quickening of her pulse, an almost electric shock that races up her spine. A feeling that she’s being watched, and instead of being afraid there is an ember of hope threatening to spark in her chest – she is afraid of it being him, but more afraid that it might not be. She is afraid that it will never be him again, that the last time really was the last time, and knows it would be impossible to find a god that doesn’t want to be found.
It’s this feeling that causes her to turn, to catch those familiar wine-red eyes when the shadows fall away from him, and what a foolish girl she must be that her instinct is to smile rather than to run.
“Carnage,” his name is nearly a whisper in the twilight, spoken in the same soft way of hers despite their last meeting; she doesn’t seem to remember that he had slain her on the mountain top, instead only remembering that he had eventually brought her back. Her memory had a way of doing that to her, and maybe that is why now he makes her heart race for reasons other than fear.
She can feel her pulse buzzing in reaction to his touch, the way he traces a path across everything he already knows. When he pauses against her throat there is a moment where her heart seems to stop and her breath goes still, and she remembers choking on blood, and Gail, and reawakening at his feet. But then he withdraws, and she lowers her haloed head to touch her mouth to his dappled shoulder, because she misses the feel of galaxies and magic and him beneath her lips. “I’ve missed you,” she says quietly in response to his question, and maybe it’s a strange thing to confess to the man that has blinded her once and killed her twice, but she supposes it’s a useless endeavor to think she can hide it.
But then she too pulls away, gold-tipped wings tight to her sides when she looks up at him with the faintest hint of trepidation finally edging its way into the dark of her eyes and the questioning lilt of her voice, “But I assume you aren’t here just because you missed me, too.”
It’s this feeling that causes her to turn, to catch those familiar wine-red eyes when the shadows fall away from him, and what a foolish girl she must be that her instinct is to smile rather than to run.
“Carnage,” his name is nearly a whisper in the twilight, spoken in the same soft way of hers despite their last meeting; she doesn’t seem to remember that he had slain her on the mountain top, instead only remembering that he had eventually brought her back. Her memory had a way of doing that to her, and maybe that is why now he makes her heart race for reasons other than fear.
She can feel her pulse buzzing in reaction to his touch, the way he traces a path across everything he already knows. When he pauses against her throat there is a moment where her heart seems to stop and her breath goes still, and she remembers choking on blood, and Gail, and reawakening at his feet. But then he withdraws, and she lowers her haloed head to touch her mouth to his dappled shoulder, because she misses the feel of galaxies and magic and him beneath her lips. “I’ve missed you,” she says quietly in response to his question, and maybe it’s a strange thing to confess to the man that has blinded her once and killed her twice, but she supposes it’s a useless endeavor to think she can hide it.
But then she too pulls away, gold-tipped wings tight to her sides when she looks up at him with the faintest hint of trepidation finally edging its way into the dark of her eyes and the questioning lilt of her voice, “But I assume you aren’t here just because you missed me, too.”
ryatah