Phoenix Maplewood orion

she'd thought once that she would shed her life like a snake slithering free of its own skin. but she was no snake — she was the churning sea, and he her mourning moon, ever in orbit. pontus in his perpetual grief.

and thalassa rose to meet him, whether her conduit willed it or not. her touch, hesitant at first, quickly turned grasping; jealously searching for any hint of another scent in his furs. but there were none.

nausicaä wept openly as she curved around ouranos, surrounding him, leaving no part of him untouched. i was never really yours, she confessed into his dark ruff, finally stopping when her flank was pressed to his. but you've always been mine.

i'm sorry.

for leaving? for letting herself be found?

maybe she would never know.