08-22-2020, 11:10 PM
no matter what they say, I am still the king
Some things are taught, some things are learned, some things are prayed for (on your knees, swollen and red like the bee stings from so many summers ago). .
He wasn’t a knife (he did not think so, anyways) - he was not a scythe made for reaping, he was not a causation for destruction. He just wanted to still see you breathing. He just wanted to see your teeth bright and bared in the night. He just wanted to see that a sacred space was still holy.
His mouth tastes of salt - waves rolling over his tongue. It is a thick and dastardly thing; an ocean of distaste roiling like hate. A spool of magic unraveling, inundating through what he knows true (teeth and maw and bone and blood). This is not what he had composed, and he tears through it with the vengeance of a man wronged. Forget the sea, and forget the salt, and forget what was missed. There is only him, there is nothing but the black escape before you.
And whether or not you have tasted the rampant darkness flooding your throat - you are here none the less. Your ophidian heart and your split tongue and your teeth of fury - you have returned.
It is almost a relief. A sigh escaping his jaw as he feels contact- someone, something that will touch him again. (And it has been so, so long). She could lick the spread of sand along his skin, crack the space between his bones- she is the only thing to be a part of him. And so she tore - through the skin and through the bone and through every blinding piece of magic. Her teeth declare a home, and her tongue makes a space in between what should be his skin. It is beautiful, and it is devastating - and it is the only thing he needed.
The pain paces through him as your mouth claims a piece of him. (Keep it, please. Own anything of him, claim something, make him yours). And just as easily, you spit it out. A poisonous thing, his skin. Something unwanted and bare. A curse that was not meant to be given- something barren (and you say just as much).
But you are just as beautiful in the shadows as you are in the light - with your serpentine teeth and all. With a crimson cut where your mouth should be - a call to the devil (where is your church now?) You are a sight to behold - a reckless thing in the face of might. Your words cut the silence like a scythe, and your bitterness is palpable.
“I was never meant to be missed.” And it is true, if nothing else is so. “I was meant to be torn apart into all of my lies. He steps closer, the tictoc of blood from his throat slows, and the bright white of his deep cut spine seems to dim by every second. ”What happened to you?” And it is not facetious, it is not teasing - it is the truth.
∞
and now the storm is coming, the storm is coming in
@[Sabbath]