milk and honey; ryatah

[Ryatah]

“What have I become, my sweetest friend?
Everyone I know goes away in the end."

There is no one left that has known her since the beginning — her true beginning. Before Beqanna, before the Valley and the Dale. Before Skellig, and her countless other loves and affairs. She feels as though she has lived a hundred lives, and the Dimension had been the first chapter. With Dhumin gone, it was a chapter she considered closed.

It only took the faintest scent of someone so sweet and familiar to send her back.

”Boheme?” She speaks her name on a whisper, mostly to herself. The syllables themselves remind her of humid jungles, of endless days and nights when they could seek comfort in only each other, because they were all that they trusted in that twisted land.  It seemed impossible, it has been years since she last saw — literally and figuratively — her beautiful best friend. With lifted head and arched neck she waits, her pale body trembling from fever and cold. She is imagining things; she must be. The illness that has taken over her small frame had to  have been confusing her other senses that she so strongly relied on.

But the call brings a brilliant smile to her face, and before she can even take a step forward, there is a warm body pressing sweetly against hers. She responds by leaning into her, draping a muzzle over her neck so that she can pull her into an embrace. ”My beautiful Boheme,” she murmurs into her black skin, letting her lips caress against her satin flesh. ”You shouldn’t be here. Beqanna isn’t safe right now.” The words weaken in her throat, triggering a cough that rises from the bottom of her lungs, flecks of blood staining her white lips. She steps away, forcing the cough to subside so that she may manage to add wearily, ”I don’t want to get you sick.”

But Ryatah has always been a little selfish, and it was so hard to have her so close but to feel so guilty about touching her.

RYATAH

you could have it all, my empire of dirt

@[boheme]