My lips are sore and cracked when I lick them, iron taste sharp on my tongue. I'm not sure if it's my blood or his that's being tasted, but it doesn't matter. It's red and it's mineral-edged and I consider taking more of it. Why not? When we stand here illuminated with fire and flags of lightning and the sheer exhaustion of being seen.
My legs shake erratically, never still for long. Being still is being trackable, being findable, and we can't have that. No no no, we can't. I can't be found, not unless I want to be. My teeth grind against each, the anxious thoughts milling in my mind endlessly. But the fire is ganging up on us, and I am unwilling to burn. Not when I will only come back again, as lost as ever.
The length of my tail is scorching, hairs curling and turning to white ash where the heat touches it. Another few moments and the whole thing will ignite. My eyes flicker with the firelight while Balto watches, while he bemoans his fate. Burning debris falls from the blazing trees. Sticks, clusters of leaves, pinecones glowing with red eyes only till they crash into the ground and explode into showers of sparks and flame. Hungry, starving flame that will consume whatever it touches.
My gaze fixes on a kindling brush. On the way it catches with aching slowness only until it is engulfed, and then it burns like it will never go out. My name... I turn to him like a sleepwalker stuggling to wake, eyes far away from where we are now. With slowness that argues against the peril surrounding us, I move close enough to press my face lightly to his. To run my tongue across his cheek, where my teeth caught his skin.
"Sabra," I answer, and I think I had forgotten it until it left my mouth. "My name is Sabra." I whisper it like a prayer, insectile humming in my ears. A tree cracks behind us, sap boiled past the point of bearing. I flinch at the noise, fingers of rage reacting to the sudden sensation. I am tired of this place, of the scent of smoke and charring feathers. But. I do not think I am tired of him. Not yet.
A smile like glass cracks my lips, and I take in a searing breath. "Follow me. Or don't. You could see how you like your skin split and blackened, for all I care." My head falls to one side listlessly, eyes drifting to some place past his shoulder. "Or. You could come with me. And we can see exactly where this fire burns out."
My feet lift as a branch comes crashing down, and I'm moving. Running. Smoke floods my chest, the staff in my heart waving at everything we pass. The Voices screech like a murder of crows, louder than the roaring flames. Louder than the question that asks so gently what I am doing.
@[Balto]
My legs shake erratically, never still for long. Being still is being trackable, being findable, and we can't have that. No no no, we can't. I can't be found, not unless I want to be. My teeth grind against each, the anxious thoughts milling in my mind endlessly. But the fire is ganging up on us, and I am unwilling to burn. Not when I will only come back again, as lost as ever.
The length of my tail is scorching, hairs curling and turning to white ash where the heat touches it. Another few moments and the whole thing will ignite. My eyes flicker with the firelight while Balto watches, while he bemoans his fate. Burning debris falls from the blazing trees. Sticks, clusters of leaves, pinecones glowing with red eyes only till they crash into the ground and explode into showers of sparks and flame. Hungry, starving flame that will consume whatever it touches.
My gaze fixes on a kindling brush. On the way it catches with aching slowness only until it is engulfed, and then it burns like it will never go out. My name... I turn to him like a sleepwalker stuggling to wake, eyes far away from where we are now. With slowness that argues against the peril surrounding us, I move close enough to press my face lightly to his. To run my tongue across his cheek, where my teeth caught his skin.
"Sabra," I answer, and I think I had forgotten it until it left my mouth. "My name is Sabra." I whisper it like a prayer, insectile humming in my ears. A tree cracks behind us, sap boiled past the point of bearing. I flinch at the noise, fingers of rage reacting to the sudden sensation. I am tired of this place, of the scent of smoke and charring feathers. But. I do not think I am tired of him. Not yet.
A smile like glass cracks my lips, and I take in a searing breath. "Follow me. Or don't. You could see how you like your skin split and blackened, for all I care." My head falls to one side listlessly, eyes drifting to some place past his shoulder. "Or. You could come with me. And we can see exactly where this fire burns out."
My feet lift as a branch comes crashing down, and I'm moving. Running. Smoke floods my chest, the staff in my heart waving at everything we pass. The Voices screech like a murder of crows, louder than the roaring flames. Louder than the question that asks so gently what I am doing.
@[Balto]