kitty

With spirit, and bone, and flesh,

I dig for what death has taken.

@sillylovesongsfest

a slightly suggestive fragment of the maiden neera she/her and her resurrected, insatiable lover vritra they/them.

artwork—summer by pierre bonnard ca. 1898

Hidden within a fog that had thickened the forest, Neera waited with bated breath for her lover. As she tightened the comfort of her cloak, her bottom lip jutted and trembled at the sudden gasp of wind. It was unusual for Neera to be left alone for so long, and doubt began to coat the inside of her stomach. Like an affliction with no cure.

If it was but a fortnight before, she would not have been suffering so—from the fear of the unknown.

The moment now sullied with doubt, Neera turned to leave, but alas! Much like a snake darting to its next victim, a calloused hand latched onto her naive arm and blessed the skin with the lips of her lover. Nibbling with an animalistic desire, Neera felt Vritra graze her frigid spirit with pointed teeth.

“Honey,” Vritra’s voice purred with great fervour, reverberating against Neera’s outstretched hand. Another wet kiss planted itself deep into her palm.

“Vritra!” Neera tsked the warmth of delight that welcomed her beloved. Her legs quivered with relief as the craving for their familiar touch swelled. “Where have you been?”

Although Vritraʼs lips parted, the only answer that came was the flick of their tongue and a cunning grin. Vritra embraced her with their gaunt body, shivering with need as they wrapped their arms around the stifled woman. Neera gasped as the hood of her cloak was abruptly blown away, pulling down to reveal voluminous tufts of black waves that were still wet at the tips. Vritra’s eyelashes fluttered as they breathed in the sticky scent of myrrh—rich and spicy against their twitching nose. They inhaled the curve of her neck like it was a forbidden smoke before shamelessly licking the sap that was Neeraʼs pheromones.

“Vri-!” Neera’s next set of words ceased to exist as Vritra lightly bit down into the side of her neck.

“Neera, do you wish for me to be your fool? If you want—I will plead, no, beg for your attention.” Vritra pulled back before placing a provoked kiss against a strand of Neera’s hair, eyeing her pained expression. They whispered a desperate request, “Please, honey, I need your sweet lips on mine.”

Their lips connected to form a chaste peck—embarrassment suddenly flooding Neera’s veins as she thought back to the unspeakable things that she had to do just to feel the touch of Vritra’s love again. Through a hooded gaze, Neera watched as Vritra fumbled with her cloak, their hands tugging and tearing at the layers that separated the pair. A distinctive, metallic scent wafted towards Neera as she stared down at her own.

Vritra had never once questioned why Neera’s usually well-kept fingernails were now raw and cracked, but it was becoming harder to ignore the hint of dried blood that had stained her fingertips. Much to Neera’s disappointment, scrubbing seemed to be of little use, and she was growing increasingly nervous. How very charming of her lover to play along. Vritra pretended that it was thanks to their efforts alone that allowed them such an experience—another chance at life—that they had crawled restlessly from their grave without aid. Only those on the other side could attest to Neeraʼs mournful cries, and her sinful actions that followed.

“Dear?” Vritra called through a rough, rasping tone. While looking up at their beloved with glowing, crimson eyes that demanded attention, they pleaded, “Must we dwell on the past?”

Even in times such as these, Neera could not help but remember the horrors that continue to creep up from below—the image of beetles feasting and phorid flies scuttling with anticipation. Although they recognized her sullen gaze, Vritra could never bring themselves to ask, especially during their stolen moments alone. Neera did not feel that it was a fleeting sensation. Instead, it was dreadful, how such powerful paranoia sought after her.

“Will you-” Neera swallowed the lump in her throat, “-make me forget?”

Neera felt Vritraʼs chest heave with excitement, pressing themselves against their lover’s ribcage. While there was a flutter of electricity between them, Vritraʼs heart was still, pumping with infatuation rather than survival. Neera’s hands reached out to touch the face of their beloved, shuddering at how their cheeks were cold yet blushing with desire.

Vritra leaned in, kissing the runaway tears that trailed from their lover’s eyes. “Yes, honey, I will.”

The cloak that once hid Neera away was now unashamed as it spread out underneath the lovers. Neera found herself curling into Vritra’s lips, swallowing the taste of their panting and basking in the feel of their wandering hands. Beneath their entwined bodies, thrived families of bugs and forgotten memories, concealed by the yearning of two animals feeding off one another. The remnants of their forbidden love had dug their way up from the dirt—writhing with an ache so strong.

i miss you!

— type your name followed by “core” into pinterest and post the first nine pictures, with a quote from a book of your choice.

“Two women, two dark heads, two dark triangles, a maze of limbs arranged by the geometry of pleasure. We press close, my hipbone wedded to your thighs, my breast quilting your ribs, to leave as little body exposed to the insects as we can.”

— “Seven Pictures Not Taken” by Emma Donoghue.

i love u <33