Maea
What you're given, what you live in
Darling, it finds a way to live in you
Darling, it finds a way to live in you
An itch beneath her skin had been tormenting her for days, now. As the appetite shifted and she began craving her meat rare and her vegetables not at all, she realized it was time to withdraw from the village, where any voices grated on her ears and keeping up a friendly facade exhausted both energy and patience. The recent spar with Hadama loomed like a dark veil over her thoughts, mocking her resolve to stay in the light, to strive for order and renewal when she ought to know by now that it wasn't why she was on this earth anymore.
Keeping low to the ground, the tigress stalked through the underbrush, her belly whispering through green sprouts that hissed softly upon contact with the scalding stripes. Too green to burn from such a brief touch, her passing nevertheless released a sharp scent of something burning, of ethereal oils that intensified a fragrance of verdure so potent it tore at her heightened sense of smell.
It disturbed an elk too. An old buck with gray around his eyes had been withdrawing from her presence for a good while now. He knew she was there; he had survived too many years not to know, and while he couldn't see her for the dense underbrush, she had kept him moving. Pushing him to run, allowing no rest, no sips of water, no safety to let his guard down. He was growing weary, the long legs faltering in their stride. Soon she would strike, but not yet.
The stag hesitated at the edge of the forest, just on the riverbank. The morning light offered a reprieve from the oppressive gloom beneath the trees, but something else was there on the other side of the river. Something that smelled sharply of unfamiliar things, shaped like the beings that came with sharp sticks and hunted his kind. It was an unknown - but behind him followed death, and with a toss of his head he stepped out into the open air, nose twitching as he scented the air.
Keeping low to the ground, the tigress stalked through the underbrush, her belly whispering through green sprouts that hissed softly upon contact with the scalding stripes. Too green to burn from such a brief touch, her passing nevertheless released a sharp scent of something burning, of ethereal oils that intensified a fragrance of verdure so potent it tore at her heightened sense of smell.
It disturbed an elk too. An old buck with gray around his eyes had been withdrawing from her presence for a good while now. He knew she was there; he had survived too many years not to know, and while he couldn't see her for the dense underbrush, she had kept him moving. Pushing him to run, allowing no rest, no sips of water, no safety to let his guard down. He was growing weary, the long legs faltering in their stride. Soon she would strike, but not yet.
The stag hesitated at the edge of the forest, just on the riverbank. The morning light offered a reprieve from the oppressive gloom beneath the trees, but something else was there on the other side of the river. Something that smelled sharply of unfamiliar things, shaped like the beings that came with sharp sticks and hunted his kind. It was an unknown - but behind him followed death, and with a toss of his head he stepped out into the open air, nose twitching as he scented the air.
And your heart, love, has such darkness
I feel it in the corners of the room
I feel it in the corners of the room
