She couldn't make the walk to Muat-riya.
The dance with Ra she has performed, with his hands in hers and the way they sang with twirling feet, she felt burned. Sluggish and weighted through every leg she lifted, her smile still played out upon her mouth as her eyes closed slow. For feeling so heavy, her legs were featherlight to the ground and moonlight soft upon rejecting soils. Her prints followed behind her as shadows.
The river ran alongside her in a stream that echoed place in her head. When the world went dark, she tipped over where she stood the corners of her mouth beginning to fall. Before she met the ground, her wrist planted forward for another step, another walk.
The ground sloped towards the stream. Sheltered and quiet. Minutes passed of tumbling until her ankles turned, slipping down into the dip by the riverside and curling herself on the ground. Rest grieved for her to cave, and it did so until she did. She slept like a fawn.
The dance with Ra she has performed, with his hands in hers and the way they sang with twirling feet, she felt burned. Sluggish and weighted through every leg she lifted, her smile still played out upon her mouth as her eyes closed slow. For feeling so heavy, her legs were featherlight to the ground and moonlight soft upon rejecting soils. Her prints followed behind her as shadows.
The river ran alongside her in a stream that echoed place in her head. When the world went dark, she tipped over where she stood the corners of her mouth beginning to fall. Before she met the ground, her wrist planted forward for another step, another walk.
The ground sloped towards the stream. Sheltered and quiet. Minutes passed of tumbling until her ankles turned, slipping down into the dip by the riverside and curling herself on the ground. Rest grieved for her to cave, and it did so until she did. She slept like a fawn.
February 06, 2024, 11:23 AM
He stalked with the same, seething rage that'd powered him since he'd come home to discover the burrow empty. No ornery, back-stabbing woman. No precious, never-done-wrong daughters. Not even the cat, which he'd hated anyway — it was part of that pretty picture, though. He'd thought he'd get there while the kids were asleep, and he'd crawl in next to Jovi and whisper in her ear. The cat would hiss, but fuck the cat. It knew he'd throw it out on its ass if the girls didn't love it so damn much. It knew not to test him.
Anyway. Jovi would pretend like she was still mad, but he'd convince her he was sorry, and he'd tell her he would do better, and she'd apologize for —
Satya stood still for a moment, trembling, breathing hard through his nose, feeling as though his heart might burst as red clouded his vision —
He couldn't think about that. He couldn't think about anything until the other man was dead. He couldn't think about anything until Jovi was reclaimed. He couldn't think about anything until he'd found his baby girls and that stupid, good-for-nothing cat.
He couldn't think, period. Jovi had always said that was his problem.
Said, shouted, shrieked like a banshee on several memorable occasions... who was counting?
It didn't matter. She was always saying things, but she always took him back, too. And so what if she'd finally done as she'd so often threatened? He always brought her around in the end. She always caved when he talked real sweet, and they'd be kids in love all over again, and they'd take the girls out to the lake and fuck, that godawful cat could come, for all he cared.
He searched for their scents. He searched for the man's.
He found Legend.
His first thought was, oh, thank god, because she looked so much like Jovi it hurt. His next thought was... No thoughts at all.
Jovi always said that was his problem.
Satya laid close in the reeds, eyes half-lidded, and watched.
Maybe she'd seen something. Maybe she knew something.
Maybe he wanted to just think about something else for a while.
"Hey," he called, cajoling. "You okay?"
Just checking in. 'Cause he was a nice guy, a good guy. He cared about people. He cared about girls out on their asses, down-on-their-luck — Jovi never got that about him. She just called him a dog and told him to go jump in a lake.
Anyway. Jovi would pretend like she was still mad, but he'd convince her he was sorry, and he'd tell her he would do better, and she'd apologize for —
Satya stood still for a moment, trembling, breathing hard through his nose, feeling as though his heart might burst as red clouded his vision —
He couldn't think about that. He couldn't think about anything until the other man was dead. He couldn't think about anything until Jovi was reclaimed. He couldn't think about anything until he'd found his baby girls and that stupid, good-for-nothing cat.
He couldn't think, period. Jovi had always said that was his problem.
Said, shouted, shrieked like a banshee on several memorable occasions... who was counting?
It didn't matter. She was always saying things, but she always took him back, too. And so what if she'd finally done as she'd so often threatened? He always brought her around in the end. She always caved when he talked real sweet, and they'd be kids in love all over again, and they'd take the girls out to the lake and fuck, that godawful cat could come, for all he cared.
He searched for their scents. He searched for the man's.
He found Legend.
His first thought was, oh, thank god, because she looked so much like Jovi it hurt. His next thought was... No thoughts at all.
Jovi always said that was his problem.
Satya laid close in the reeds, eyes half-lidded, and watched.
Maybe she'd seen something. Maybe she knew something.
Maybe he wanted to just think about something else for a while.
"Hey," he called, cajoling. "You okay?"
Just checking in. 'Cause he was a nice guy, a good guy. He cared about people. He cared about girls out on their asses, down-on-their-luck — Jovi never got that about him. She just called him a dog and told him to go jump in a lake.
February 06, 2024, 12:42 PM
Sleep came in tenfold. Minute by minute, to hour by hour, rested by the sound of rolling water and its lullabies. Though she could force her body day by day to erupt itself, it would eventually cave, and she wouldn't understand why. A simple rest, a simple sleep, when it wasn't so hot anymore and Ra quieted his fury. Rest would catch her, and it would happen time and time again.
Peaceful.
Quietude and a tranquil song of night water and wings.
Brought back to Shuyet, where things were safe.
Where fire roared through imported driftwood and the skies darkened. Passageways, running havoc with feet. He's fallen! He's fallen! Yet she walked slow. There was only the face, once upon a time, of Seth.
All she knew.
Seth.
Ghost riddled eyes opened.
Dark, hovering and calling her only for a moment with a yearning calm.
But he was only a man. Only a stranger. Tapping her tail over her nose only once, she stared and checked over his features. Emerald eyes. Dusted ears. Dark cheeks. Inked nose. New.
"Yes." For a moment, the memory of Akashingos tag on her had fizzled from sheer interest.
"Hello."
Eye contact held intently. Though, the slithering fear of mauling teeth and opening jaws fluttered in her, the intrigue of it and more alone kept her in place. In a ball. He was new.
"What is your name?"
February 06, 2024, 02:16 PM
He told himself it was 'cause she looked like Jovi, and like his own precious girls, to a certain extent. The truth was that she didn't — not really. The similarities were superficial, and then erased entirely when she opened her eyes and did not turn at once into a shrieking wyvern. Fuck, he missed her! And he could pretend it was in missing her that he wanted to be close to this woman who was decidedly not her. But maybe it was that. Maybe. It was awful lonely without her — as is ever so on the road — and if he just thought about how much he missed her, could she really blame him for getting turned around? It was her own fault, really —
It wasn't, though. It was her scent, which really needn't have been anything but female to drive him to distraction this time of year. He couldn't help it — he was a family man, really.
"Ringo," he replied. He didn't think Jovi knew about that name just yet. This would never get back to her, and what did she care if he had a chat now and then, anyway? But she'd think the worst, so he gave her an alias.
"What's yours?" he asked her. And, more importantly: "What are you doing out here all alone?"
He was concerned. Just. Concerned.
It wasn't, though. It was her scent, which really needn't have been anything but female to drive him to distraction this time of year. He couldn't help it — he was a family man, really.
"Ringo," he replied. He didn't think Jovi knew about that name just yet. This would never get back to her, and what did she care if he had a chat now and then, anyway? But she'd think the worst, so he gave her an alias.
"What's yours?" he asked her. And, more importantly: "What are you doing out here all alone?"
He was concerned. Just. Concerned.
February 12, 2024, 07:04 PM
idk whats wrong with her
"Ri-ngo." The name, tasted upon her tongue by every sound she could make, a feather dance from her mouth before her head turned to its tilt. Ringo. Ringo. Ringo. For what he was worth, she crossed him off from every face within Akashingo. Every man, every woman, whose face became a blur of absolute nothing because she desired it to. Because her brain ticked them off one by one. Little by little.
He didn't look like the Akashingo men.
When she responded, it was with the hush of a star. Recklessly, "Legend." She wanted to know what he would do with it. It was all she wanted at this point. The attention, the smothering, the spotlight, the affection of being looked at. The riveting feeling of locking with anothers eyes. It was just like her to desire.
Rolling the fur of her back onto the ground, belly upwards and her head rested. One paw after the other, she reached for his chest to touch. "I'm bored." Then, a pout, weighed down by heat exhaustion hours prior. "It's boring. So boring-- I'm bored! Indulge me," a beg, a whine! "Tell me of Ringo." He gave her time. She wanted more of it. More time. Even from a stranger. Legend would take it, even when sprawled with tiredness, pathetically, endlessly. It was all she cared about.
February 12, 2024, 07:45 PM
Her eyes were blue like dried chicory flowers, and flat and powdery in the same way. Haw saw his own face, muzzy and sinister, reflected back at him across the wide, black chasms of her pupils. It filled him with a strange, lonely feeling — like those dreams he had when he was younger, and still again on especially dark nights. The ones where he had to run but his paws couldn't find purchase, and the world was heavy, and he found himself slipping closer and closer to the edge of something terrible and unknowable. Her eyes swallowed him in the same way, like being closed into an empty room, his senses deprived of all but dreary, storm-sky walls —
Legend.
He was not alone in the room. Her eyes had a name, and she stretched, languorous, paws reaching in slow motion, just like those dreams. The need to be touched by her burned in his gut, deeper than lust, deeper than love. Satya had made a religion out of touch, and out of the god he felt when he held someone too close to feel his own jagged edges, and only the warm, heavy comfort of someone else, someone who was not him.
He crawled forward to meet her silent summons, and an all-over shudder wracked his body and stole the breath from his lungs.
"He's lost," he said, with the weight of her seeming to hang from his vocal chords. He moved as if she'd dragged him, standing so that his head hung directly over hers. He pressed his nose to her throat. Whispered, "He's looking for someone," into her fur; "A rumor. A treasure."
He didn't know what he was saying. He didn't know who Ringo was exactly that it wasn't him — so he filled his lungs with the heady scent of her and said more senseless words:
"He's got nothing left to lose. So he's hungry for something precious."
Legend.
He was not alone in the room. Her eyes had a name, and she stretched, languorous, paws reaching in slow motion, just like those dreams. The need to be touched by her burned in his gut, deeper than lust, deeper than love. Satya had made a religion out of touch, and out of the god he felt when he held someone too close to feel his own jagged edges, and only the warm, heavy comfort of someone else, someone who was not him.
He crawled forward to meet her silent summons, and an all-over shudder wracked his body and stole the breath from his lungs.
"He's lost," he said, with the weight of her seeming to hang from his vocal chords. He moved as if she'd dragged him, standing so that his head hung directly over hers. He pressed his nose to her throat. Whispered, "He's looking for someone," into her fur; "A rumor. A treasure."
He didn't know what he was saying. He didn't know who Ringo was exactly that it wasn't him — so he filled his lungs with the heady scent of her and said more senseless words:
"He's got nothing left to lose. So he's hungry for something precious."
February 13, 2024, 08:41 PM
"A treasure?"
Her lips gasped, breathless at that. She'd known many treasures. This man sought one, and through word by word, brought her into an endless wonder. Ever wanting. Ever lost.
What he sought, it must have been something grand.
With widening eyes that traced the stars just beyond his neck, and the bottom of his jaw, her pupils made out diamonds in cold constellations.
"What kind of treasure?"
Her lips gasped, breathless at that. She'd known many treasures. This man sought one, and through word by word, brought her into an endless wonder. Ever wanting. Ever lost.
What he sought, it must have been something grand.
With widening eyes that traced the stars just beyond his neck, and the bottom of his jaw, her pupils made out diamonds in cold constellations.
"What kind of treasure?"
A story. Oh, how she needed a story and to hear of gold. He had nothing left to lose. Nothing, he said. "Does that mean he's nothing to gain, too?"
She felt wrong.
But oh, she reached again and reached more, dragging her limb enough to feel him. Her eyes narrowed, her thoughts then tight as she touched more, and more, and more. She wanted to feel right. Why didn't she feel right?
She felt wrong more.
"I like stories," she told him in a whisper. And wrong again. Needing just for now, no matter the form, to fall into a trap of gentle. In her own upset, she violently tried to settle it quiet by pressing her jaw to his. A nuzzle, an affection. Skin to skin in soft touch. Something. Anything that would go with these whispers. "Tell me one." So the pain will subside.
She felt wrong.
But oh, she reached again and reached more, dragging her limb enough to feel him. Her eyes narrowed, her thoughts then tight as she touched more, and more, and more. She wanted to feel right. Why didn't she feel right?
She felt wrong more.
"I like stories," she told him in a whisper. And wrong again. Needing just for now, no matter the form, to fall into a trap of gentle. In her own upset, she violently tried to settle it quiet by pressing her jaw to his. A nuzzle, an affection. Skin to skin in soft touch. Something. Anything that would go with these whispers. "Tell me one." So the pain will subside.
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