SWORD
we watched the night under moonlight mixed in ocean air
the salty breeze tickled our necks
and we counted galaxies forgetting boundaries,
imagined reaching for them,
like for each other
Oh, fine; the opportunity lost and wasted, onto his games and ploys, the calculations forced to spiral elsewhere. Retaliation would always be in order; neither one to settle amidst cheeky irreverence and sedition, the fur and paws along his shoulders already an indication that he was doomed to a multitude of rebuttal – snow leopard incantations suddenly flanked in mud, as if she were a part of its earth and loam. It was a merciless strike that he took in stride, and likely deserved, a ricocheting of spattered mud assaulting his figure – cloaked and flecked with cascading wallops of the silt, dirt, and soil, closing his eyes to at least escape some portion of damage and debris. His beard didn’t escape or evade the onslaught either, caught in the earthen wares, a grumble in his throat and chest – amusements and diversions, nothing unsettling or predacious.
All right – two could play at that game.
Just as he’d done before, except with little control or command, an attuned provocation lingered in the sanction if his mind; far more contorted and understood now, and birds rose from nearby bushes, cooing and cawing their intent. Compelled by his silent ministrations, because he stood quite still, stoic and reserved, with her framing tempestuous eaves; they rose and fell towards the mud, gathering goop in their talons, before becoming little mocking shadows, hovering over Amalia’s form, only to drop their newfound collections towards her frame (and if they happened to land on him too, it didn’t really matter – the principle of mischief and ridiculousness was still the same).
All right – two could play at that game.
Just as he’d done before, except with little control or command, an attuned provocation lingered in the sanction if his mind; far more contorted and understood now, and birds rose from nearby bushes, cooing and cawing their intent. Compelled by his silent ministrations, because he stood quite still, stoic and reserved, with her framing tempestuous eaves; they rose and fell towards the mud, gathering goop in their talons, before becoming little mocking shadows, hovering over Amalia’s form, only to drop their newfound collections towards her frame (and if they happened to land on him too, it didn’t really matter – the principle of mischief and ridiculousness was still the same).
SHIELD
the stars lined our heartbeats,
and we fell
so much harder,
than we ever had
before
