I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too
Click, click, click.
The sound of heels on old stone floor isn’t supposed to echo like that in a place of worship, not unless the walls want it to. Not unless the shrine’s hungry, too.
The scent hits Zairah first. Spice, and a whisper of something feral folded beneath it, like the breath of a cave where something long asleep just stirred.
Then comes her. The woman stepped through the dark like a match flaring to life; sudden, bright, and red. Not the soft red of summer berries or velvet, but something more arterial. Her tail flicks behind her, careless or cunning, Zairah can’t tell, but it draws the eye like a wick draws fire. The bowl in her hands gleams dully in the firelight, cupped in offering. Suddenly the entire room begins to smell like her. Like heat and copper and something older than memory, like stone left to bake in the sun or blood spilled on warm earth.
Zairah's stomach gives a little twist. Not fear. Not quite. Hunger. A deep, aching kind, not in her belly but in her bones, her gums, the backs of her eyes.
And now she sees the blood. On the woman’s hands, her mouth. Smudged across her knuckles, kissed along her lips like war paint. Zairah swallows, but her throat feels too dry. There's no saliva left to hide her thirst.
The woman smiles like she knows. Like she smells it on her.
Zairah’s lips part but she falters on what to say.
And this woman doesn’t pause, doesn’t need to. She just glides forward, flicked in firelight and theater, tail arcing behind her in a silent, smug hello. Her bowl sloshes slightly, a red ripple dancing along the ceramic edge.
The shrine watches. She feels it. Feels it the way a struck bell feels a finger tracing its rim. Her chest tightens with something she doesn’t have a name for. Not awe. Not dread. Just… recognition. Something in her bones humming in harmony with the dark.
And then the woman speaks again, something about worship, about being a priestess of the temple, and about helping.
Zairah blinks. Her voice finds her at last. “Why does she want blood? What happens when you give it to her?"
The sound of heels on old stone floor isn’t supposed to echo like that in a place of worship, not unless the walls want it to. Not unless the shrine’s hungry, too.
The scent hits Zairah first. Spice, and a whisper of something feral folded beneath it, like the breath of a cave where something long asleep just stirred.
Then comes her. The woman stepped through the dark like a match flaring to life; sudden, bright, and red. Not the soft red of summer berries or velvet, but something more arterial. Her tail flicks behind her, careless or cunning, Zairah can’t tell, but it draws the eye like a wick draws fire. The bowl in her hands gleams dully in the firelight, cupped in offering. Suddenly the entire room begins to smell like her. Like heat and copper and something older than memory, like stone left to bake in the sun or blood spilled on warm earth.
Zairah's stomach gives a little twist. Not fear. Not quite. Hunger. A deep, aching kind, not in her belly but in her bones, her gums, the backs of her eyes.
And now she sees the blood. On the woman’s hands, her mouth. Smudged across her knuckles, kissed along her lips like war paint. Zairah swallows, but her throat feels too dry. There's no saliva left to hide her thirst.
The woman smiles like she knows. Like she smells it on her.
Zairah’s lips part but she falters on what to say.
And this woman doesn’t pause, doesn’t need to. She just glides forward, flicked in firelight and theater, tail arcing behind her in a silent, smug hello. Her bowl sloshes slightly, a red ripple dancing along the ceramic edge.
The shrine watches. She feels it. Feels it the way a struck bell feels a finger tracing its rim. Her chest tightens with something she doesn’t have a name for. Not awe. Not dread. Just… recognition. Something in her bones humming in harmony with the dark.
And then the woman speaks again, something about worship, about being a priestess of the temple, and about helping.
Zairah blinks. Her voice finds her at last. “Why does she want blood? What happens when you give it to her?"
so i stayed in the darkness with you
Zairah
