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
They were utterly ridiculous and it suited him just fine, clothing mottled, body framed and flecked in mud. He’d had far worse (soaked in blood, some of his, some of his enemies, some of his friends), and none of these antics left scars. Just amusement, diversions, and mischief, their favored rituals and challenges. He was left wide open on her latest assault, shoulders pinned down by paws, only an eye roll emerging in response, while the birds dropped their merciless wake. He was released in those moments, while she covered her face with her paws (as if it mattered anyway, when fur was drenched and hues were obliterated into anything but an obvious sienna). The heathen laughed too, a savage, wicked, fiendish assortment of deep grumbles and chuckles, before her next siege arrived.
Perhaps she’d been inspired by his efforts – the field mice surging and rising, a scampering and squeaking in inveigling motions, racing up his legs and over his arms, ticklish, causing only the briefest of compulsory shudders, as he instinctively tried to shake them off. They managed to climb wayward into his wild mane too, some sitting on top of his skull, very proud, kings of mountains and rodents – on a snort, he shifted into his tiger form. A harder motion and movement sent many of the Lilliputian army flying, soaring back into the tall grass nearby.
Then he shifted a massive paw into the mud, and much like he would’ve done a splash of water, maneuvered the streak of watered down silt and loam towards her. There were quick volleys thereafter too, before he hastened a rampage towards one of his targets, instigating, inviting a chase.
Perhaps she’d been inspired by his efforts – the field mice surging and rising, a scampering and squeaking in inveigling motions, racing up his legs and over his arms, ticklish, causing only the briefest of compulsory shudders, as he instinctively tried to shake them off. They managed to climb wayward into his wild mane too, some sitting on top of his skull, very proud, kings of mountains and rodents – on a snort, he shifted into his tiger form. A harder motion and movement sent many of the Lilliputian army flying, soaring back into the tall grass nearby.
Then he shifted a massive paw into the mud, and much like he would’ve done a splash of water, maneuvered the streak of watered down silt and loam towards her. There were quick volleys thereafter too, before he hastened a rampage towards one of his targets, instigating, inviting a chase.
SHIELD
the stars lined our heartbeats,
and we fell
so much harder,
than we ever had
before
