04-04-2021, 10:10 PM
clementia
It is not a shadow thing that finds her but something else altogether that comes swimming out of the darkness. And what a sweet tongue this thing has with that sunlight smile and his talk of fever dreams. She is a thing built on dreams, Clementia, and it has never been hard to make her swoon. There are clouds and galaxies and stardust trapped under the glass of her skin and these things make her prone to whimsy and he is just another beautiful thing for her to touch.
There is something like relief in her smile when she lands those galaxy eyes on him, as if he is everything she has been searching for. Even as the water bleeds from her sides back into the river and she sighs something so dreamy.
“Web,” she says as if she has known his name her whole life, as if he has not just told it to her, as if her tongue has been crafted to say his name alone.
“Do you have to ask?” she asks, the voice like bell-songs. She tilts her fine head and moves deeper into the water, reaching out to touch him with the cool glass of her mouth. It does not occur to her to ask him for permission. She is his fever dream, surely she does not need permission. And he is another beautiful thing she has touched.
“My name is Clementia,” she tells him, though he has not asked. She wants him to have it. She wants him to store it away in his chest. She wants him to remember it. His fever dream had a name. She was not only galaxies trapped in glass. There was a heart there, too. A heart and a name. She smiles and touches his shoulder with her wet mouth, leaves it cool.
“Do you dream of meeting women at the river often?” she asks, whimsical, almost a sigh. And then she smiles and turns away from him, makes for the shore. Water beads on the surface of the glass and drips into the dark mud as she emerges from the river and turns to face him again.
There is something like relief in her smile when she lands those galaxy eyes on him, as if he is everything she has been searching for. Even as the water bleeds from her sides back into the river and she sighs something so dreamy.
“Web,” she says as if she has known his name her whole life, as if he has not just told it to her, as if her tongue has been crafted to say his name alone.
“Do you have to ask?” she asks, the voice like bell-songs. She tilts her fine head and moves deeper into the water, reaching out to touch him with the cool glass of her mouth. It does not occur to her to ask him for permission. She is his fever dream, surely she does not need permission. And he is another beautiful thing she has touched.
“My name is Clementia,” she tells him, though he has not asked. She wants him to have it. She wants him to store it away in his chest. She wants him to remember it. His fever dream had a name. She was not only galaxies trapped in glass. There was a heart there, too. A heart and a name. She smiles and touches his shoulder with her wet mouth, leaves it cool.
“Do you dream of meeting women at the river often?” she asks, whimsical, almost a sigh. And then she smiles and turns away from him, makes for the shore. Water beads on the surface of the glass and drips into the dark mud as she emerges from the river and turns to face him again.
To take me, to take you, too
@[web] i love him
@[The Monsters] please mess with her stone hooves and wind exhalation!