Cedar Sweep like carillon bells, the house of Augustus rings

She hummed a short note, strangled at the middle before deepening into her chest.

A city. Part of a religious doctrine. In truth, she’d picked it in a flurry of anger and despair, rage holding the hand of sadness. 

Walls got knocked down. Or something. She flashed a quick fang in a smile, there and gone. 

Never really asked. Passerine curved her tongue out the side of her mouth to catch a stray droplet of water. Jericho had been a grave for Passerine, but the songbird had its ways of crawling right back out no matter how many times she’d buried it.