i swear you'll see the sun again; any

[sleaze]

I’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife She is strange. He can tell that much, her movements betraying something not-quite-equid. He watches with fascination as the feathers ripple across her skin, her body an ever-changing thing. She is strange, yes – but so is he, albeit in different ways. None of his strangeness comes manifested on the outside, it’s all in his memories (if they’re even memories and not strains of madness). She gives her name, but before he can respond she stretches out towards him. He does not move to meet her, only stands still, passive, lets her close the distance. His skin prickles at the warmth of her breath, and it almost feels like something meaningful, for a moment, until there’s a slight tug and a strand of his mane between her teeth. He blinks, startled. “What do you want with that?” he asks. Overhead, there are other ravens – perhaps drawn by her. He wonders if she is something more powerful – their queen, perhaps. He feels his own power, having so long lain quiet, stir. He doesn’t use his possession. He feels strange and terrible enough in his own mind, and has no desire to touch others. But when it was first granted to him, it was as uncontrollable as a wild-caught dog, reaching for everything, touching their minds. He sank within the trunks of trees, within wolves – but had he touched the minds of the birds? He can’t recall. “The raven,” he says, softly, “what’s it like? To be one?” sleaze cancer x garbage