Lion Head Mesa I'm sorry that I'm misbehaving; I'm your little scarlet, starlet

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Atop the temple for the Gods, she opens herself over decay and he feels it, her breaths steaming in the humid sunlight. She is driven back with the force of his shoulders but caught to him with one long arm which fits her into his suspension. It is not his teeth but his lips that find her chest. Her temptations, like a last brittle scream for him.

“Not enough to stay.” A murmur.

Cruel. In many ways he had been that, though never once had he stopped her, and she’d always found her way back to him on one tradewind or another.

But she exists in this world with the living. With carnal, fanciful wants. Things he no longer sought for feeling in alone.

Into her eyes he looks, no upset, no pleasure to disturb the surface. He releases her to rise, feet finding the edge of the mesa.

“In another life, Legend.” A raven no more.