10-03-2018, 11:22 AM
i'd break the back of love for you.
@[Wane]
She used to be so soft and delicate, so trusting that the world wanted only the best for her. Khuma wandered freely and laughed so hard it hurt her cheeks. Sometimes she even kissed Tatter on the cheek. God, her cheeks used to burn so hot after and she felt so embarrassed to reveal her emotions. But then, one day, fate stopped smiling upon her as a favored child. It turned its attentions to another and left the snake girl to drift through the rest of her life alone. Her sister and her king were gone.
And so she watched life pass by.
She picked apart the gestures of those more fortunate than herself.
These days she’s nothing but a patchwork of all the wretches she’s ever envied, stitched together with a callous sort of disregard for others. Even now she’s pinning the pieces of Wane to a corkboard like an insect. Later, she’ll pick her favorite parts and add them to the monster she’s become and leave him as a fraction of who he was before. But for now she’s got to drag her fingers through the thick of him so she can dig up all those tender areas he thinks he keeps hidden.
“Wane,” she breathes softly. Her voice is all lilac and lavender, sleepy and smooth by the time it leaves her lips despite the rain. But then he’s offering up a question for her to consider and she smiles like a naïve girl fresh into adulthood, like the girl she used to be. “I’m not alone if we’re together.”
Already, it’s ‘we’ and she sidesteps his question with all the grace of a practiced prima ballerina. He doesn’t need to know that she was on the hunt before he stumbled across her and she has no intentions of telling him. Instead they are now one and her smile is the sunshine the meadow is missing in the midst of the storm.
“Where do you live, Wane?” she asks with a light tilt of her white and red head. She wants to follow him to where ever there are more like him, more faceless bodies to take from. On to the next already, then the next and the next. Khuma forces the innocence into her eyes as a veil over the clinical emptiness with which she regards him. To anyone who trusts appearances, her pupils dilate as a sort of love begins to blossom. To anyone who’s ever seen a predator, it’s the beginning of the hunt.
And so she watched life pass by.
She picked apart the gestures of those more fortunate than herself.
These days she’s nothing but a patchwork of all the wretches she’s ever envied, stitched together with a callous sort of disregard for others. Even now she’s pinning the pieces of Wane to a corkboard like an insect. Later, she’ll pick her favorite parts and add them to the monster she’s become and leave him as a fraction of who he was before. But for now she’s got to drag her fingers through the thick of him so she can dig up all those tender areas he thinks he keeps hidden.
“Wane,” she breathes softly. Her voice is all lilac and lavender, sleepy and smooth by the time it leaves her lips despite the rain. But then he’s offering up a question for her to consider and she smiles like a naïve girl fresh into adulthood, like the girl she used to be. “I’m not alone if we’re together.”
Already, it’s ‘we’ and she sidesteps his question with all the grace of a practiced prima ballerina. He doesn’t need to know that she was on the hunt before he stumbled across her and she has no intentions of telling him. Instead they are now one and her smile is the sunshine the meadow is missing in the midst of the storm.
“Where do you live, Wane?” she asks with a light tilt of her white and red head. She wants to follow him to where ever there are more like him, more faceless bodies to take from. On to the next already, then the next and the next. Khuma forces the innocence into her eyes as a veil over the clinical emptiness with which she regards him. To anyone who trusts appearances, her pupils dilate as a sort of love begins to blossom. To anyone who’s ever seen a predator, it’s the beginning of the hunt.
khuma.