milk and honey; ryatah

[Ryatah]

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

There were so few that she could consider a true friend anymore. Her lovers had a way of coming and going — or perhaps she was the one that came and went, but regardless, she was accustomed to solitude being the one thing she could count on. Boheme was one of the few that she always found her way back to. There was something so entirely pure and unadulterated about a friendship that came with no expectations, no animosity over the length of time that stretched between meetings. They fell back into each other as though they had never spent a day apart.

She isn’t surprised when Boheme doesn’t listen — she wouldn’t have either. She does not shy away at the feel of her lips against hers, and she does not ignore the way it makes her pulse accelerate, a slow smile lifting at the edge of them as the blood is slowly cleansed away. ”You have always been too kind for your own good.”

With her small white form resting against her friend’s, her teeth idly combing through her mane and occasionally brushing her lips along her neck, she sighs — a sound that rattled in her chest and throat, the sickness firmly rooted into her by now. ”Do you ever miss the Dimension?” The words are thoughtful, almost whimsical, as she lays the flat of her bone-white cheek against Boheme’s ebony neck. ”It was a lifetime ago, and yet I still think about it. Not just Amazonhollow, but of Gullshore, too. ” There is something nostalgic in the way that she says it, her mind’s eye still able to recall the coastline she had adored so much. The same coastline she had met Dhumin on, an event that had been the catalyst that sent her entire life spinning beyond her control — not necessarily in a negative way, however. Beqanna’s shores were not the same, and they never had been, no matter how hard she had tried to convince herself otherwise upon first arriving here. 
 
There were nights that she still dreamt of her first home, when she could still hear the cries of the gulls in her sleep, or thought she felt the humidity of the jungle, and half expected to open her eyes — eyes that only existed in her dreams now, and in that place between almost awake and still asleep, before her mind can grasp reality — and see that familiar albino face that she had awoken to for so many years. 

Over a hundred years and two lifetimes ago, and her dreams still haven’t changed.

RYATAH

you could have it all, my empire of dirt

@[boheme]  

She got all nostalgic on me :|