enjoy the ride
“Yeah.” Caly hums to Nova’s toast before they down their shots. She takes hers without the extra sweet, without a chaser, wanting to feel the burn of it linger long after the smoke’s already filled the Hanged Man.
It’s why she doesn’t waste any time once the wine spider’s crawled up Nova’s arm. Sorry to the rest of the wine spiders in the vicinity of the Hanged Man, so long as her sister’s got the one she wanted, Caly finally sparks the flame. It takes to the Hanged Man like it’s been waiting. And after, the sound of wood groaning, bottles crashing, slamming into the oak and varnish bloom.
For once, perhaps the first time, she feels at home completely in the Hanged Man – if only temporarily. The next bottle is thrown while their brother shields them when the flames get too close, and something in Caly’s chest loosens with each throw and lick of golden fire. It’s beautiful and destructive, a sin wrapped in honey.
The smoke swirls, catching hues of orange and reds and flashes of light, bright white. The interior becomes slowly stifling, but Caly doesn’t stop until the last Molotov is tossed. And when it is, only then does she turn back to her siblings with a decisive nod and her heart thundering in her ears like she’s just gone to war. “’m ready.”
It’s why she doesn’t waste any time once the wine spider’s crawled up Nova’s arm. Sorry to the rest of the wine spiders in the vicinity of the Hanged Man, so long as her sister’s got the one she wanted, Caly finally sparks the flame. It takes to the Hanged Man like it’s been waiting. And after, the sound of wood groaning, bottles crashing, slamming into the oak and varnish bloom.
For once, perhaps the first time, she feels at home completely in the Hanged Man – if only temporarily. The next bottle is thrown while their brother shields them when the flames get too close, and something in Caly’s chest loosens with each throw and lick of golden fire. It’s beautiful and destructive, a sin wrapped in honey.
The smoke swirls, catching hues of orange and reds and flashes of light, bright white. The interior becomes slowly stifling, but Caly doesn’t stop until the last Molotov is tossed. And when it is, only then does she turn back to her siblings with a decisive nod and her heart thundering in her ears like she’s just gone to war. “’m ready.”
Calypso
