I’m not sure when the tides turned, and the roles reversed, but somewhere along the lines she devoured me. Maybe I hadn’t been paying attention, maybe she saw an opportunity, a weakness. Or maybe. Maybe I wanted her to do it. Maybe I let her. Could have been that I was tired of the blathering, the choices, the control. Maybe I wanted to be the controlled, the tempered, the submissive.
Does it matter?
There’s a fond smile, something of whimsy and splendor, and pure impish delight smothering my face. Fluid and languid are my movements, poised with such a grace that a disgusting creature like myself should be incapable of possessing. But opposites attract, as do the like minded and able bodied. Much like Sylva, my beloved wood of burning beauty, eternal autumn.
My, how she blazes. And speaks.
The voices, not my own, I feel them far before I know who they belong to.
Another blissful smile as I tip my head back into darkness, with a purr of delight, I can still see how glorious the bright locks of the sentinels shine, even in the belly of the beast.
Maybe we’ve all been devoured.