02-07-2019, 11:33 PM
our demons are all around us and they don't come from hell
every single one of them reminds us of ourselves
every single one of them reminds us of ourselves
She doesn’t know what she expected when she walks up to Scorch—what liquid pull she had felt in her belly, drawing her further down the path of madness and need. She doesn’t know and she finds that she cannot bring herself to ask more questions. She cannot tear it further or pull it apart or try to make sense from something that is inherently designed to not be understood—to be felt, not consumed by the mind.
Instead she becomes the shadows she had once been. She becomes nothing but a living flame of need and want, feeling that strange rush of it all, a heady feeling of rightness in the way that their bodies come together. It is like a battle, like a war cry, and she finds that she knows her Amazonian’s sister better than she might have ever guessed. They bloom together, bodies erupting and then pulling inward in implosion, as Brunhild’s chest heaves, her lungs dragging air, her vision blurry and mind dizzy with the fireworks of pure feeling within her.
“Scorch,” she murmurs once into the mare’s neck, feeling a tightening in her belly, the taste of the mare thick on her lips. “Scorch,” again, this time wrapped into a growl that becomes a purr and then a moan.
When it is over, when they are slick with it, she presses a kiss into the mare’s neck and closes her eyes, feeling a thrill of adrenaline through her—a feeling that lives outside of guilt or repercussion. “I will always be with you,” she finally says softly, her voice husky. “I will always be part of you.” She knows better than any how intertwined two souls can become—and when those souls are rooted in the jungle, the bond lives outside of time and space itself. In the morning, they will split apart and live their own lives—they will love their men and follow their paths, but that does not change this moment now, trapped and suspended eternal.
@[Scorch]