Midas is king and he holds me so tight
(Why does it always end in death, in blood?)It doesn't matter. The dragon holds no regard for the life of blink hares and moushrooms, is merely intrigued, awakened, by their movement. He watches Mabel, black and white in the stark starlight, drop from the sky with her talons outstretched.
He thinks of his wristblades. He thinks of Wessex's claws, Isla's scalpels. Isn't it time Mabel pursue their own intrinsic form of weaponry too, a complement to conventional knives?
He'll have to bring it up, later. He doesn't want to think of the world now.
Aamu rolls again in the sky, drops his head down and arcs towards the ground; flares his wings to catch himself into a proper, balanced dive. (Dreams, of the ocean.)
He's not sure how Mabel's hunt went, but his passing presence scares the moushrooms into motion again. They dart among the flowers and he snaps for them, with mouth and talons, just barely catching one in a clawed foot. Surprised and delighted, Aamu climbs back into the sky to ready himself for a second run.
and turns me to gold in the sunlight
Aamu
