She moves flatly, gracelessly, but quietly. The sun is at her back, coating her scales with a blanket of heat that gives her so much more life as the seasons once more change. Her heartbeat quickens briefly, but it settles as she scales another hill and passes another meadow until she reaches a somewhat familiar scene.
It’s a volcano, the only one that she has seen from afar. There’s no sentimentality toward it, but something draws her toward its unfathomable heat. It calls to her as a parent would, a familiarity on the wind that drives her instincts to pursue until she is at the kingdom’s edge peering in. A breath fills her lungs, but there are scents that she reads as well, and analyzes until there is one that separates itself from the rest.
Father. Yes, that is the term for him, but not the role. He is an absent figure, but alive unlike mother. By now, the other serpent’s bones have begun to sink beneath the sand and waves, taking with it lost memories. Skaide only remembers her somber heart before it darkened just before her attempt to harm the newborn. Instinctually, the child protected herself but could not control the rush of venom. It destroyed the mother. Her veins burst and her muscles melted as though kissed by acid as the poison poured through her like a broken dam.
Mother was gone quickly. Only the strongest survive.
A very early lesson for one so young.
Pregnant now, Skaide slips into this volcanic kingdom, but she doesn’t understand the courteous expectations that generations have set into stone. There is no waiting, no call to alert others of her arrival (such a silly custom that is). There’s simply an invasion that guides her whispered footsteps across the open fields until she has the desire to stop and observe. Her slit pupils dilate then contract as another lungful of air is drawn in, brimming with that one scent she remembers from childhood. His face – it was reptilian like hers – shimmers into her thoughts. The father. There were others on his skin – females. A partner. Offspring. Something stirs within her. Does the father truly need them if she is here? Is there reason to have excessive amounts of children when he has one already sculpted so perfectly in his and the mother’s image?
A low hiss rattles through her as venom slowly drips off the edges of her fangs.
i swear i'll become your only desire. i swear i'll rip you apart.It’s a volcano, the only one that she has seen from afar. There’s no sentimentality toward it, but something draws her toward its unfathomable heat. It calls to her as a parent would, a familiarity on the wind that drives her instincts to pursue until she is at the kingdom’s edge peering in. A breath fills her lungs, but there are scents that she reads as well, and analyzes until there is one that separates itself from the rest.
Father. Yes, that is the term for him, but not the role. He is an absent figure, but alive unlike mother. By now, the other serpent’s bones have begun to sink beneath the sand and waves, taking with it lost memories. Skaide only remembers her somber heart before it darkened just before her attempt to harm the newborn. Instinctually, the child protected herself but could not control the rush of venom. It destroyed the mother. Her veins burst and her muscles melted as though kissed by acid as the poison poured through her like a broken dam.
Mother was gone quickly. Only the strongest survive.
A very early lesson for one so young.
Pregnant now, Skaide slips into this volcanic kingdom, but she doesn’t understand the courteous expectations that generations have set into stone. There is no waiting, no call to alert others of her arrival (such a silly custom that is). There’s simply an invasion that guides her whispered footsteps across the open fields until she has the desire to stop and observe. Her slit pupils dilate then contract as another lungful of air is drawn in, brimming with that one scent she remembers from childhood. His face – it was reptilian like hers – shimmers into her thoughts. The father. There were others on his skin – females. A partner. Offspring. Something stirs within her. Does the father truly need them if she is here? Is there reason to have excessive amounts of children when he has one already sculpted so perfectly in his and the mother’s image?
A low hiss rattles through her as venom slowly drips off the edges of her fangs.
Skaide