veer
It will stop your breath, how cruel I can be.
But you understand, don’t you?
But you understand, don’t you?
W
atching her makes him think that he should perhaps find it in him to be anything but a devil. Each of her turns suggests the river at his back, twisting and strong enough to drag a less clever man underwater. He wonders if men have drowned watching her, sunk into that music and let it fill their lungs like saltwater. She stops, breath heaving, and he starts to count the beads of sweat on her chest that look a little like half-formed pearls against her bright skin. The music stumbles and sharpens. It makes him think of a young blade, almost sharp enough to bleed but not yet hungry enough for blood. Veer could teach her, if she would let him. He could teach her how to be a blade and a song.
There can be harmony in the combination.
The dip of her head is an art form and he almost laughs and dips a wing into a sardonic mockery of her greeting. Instead he only lets his stare flicker and flame like coal dipped in gold. “No.” He says. It sounds like smoke in the forest. His head lifts and his neck arches in a silent challenge.
The next turn of her music does not seem very sharp next to him.
@Mesnyi | "speaks" | notes: <3
