the universe sings around this one; hums a silent melody of something familiar in the same way the stars are : never hers to understand, yet forever beckoning an unbridled curiosity. except this one, the beast's worldly senses inform, is tangible — within reach. a careful step forward and grand muzzle lowered, it tilts akin a curious pup, but halts 'pon their voice.
thus @tr1cked speaks : “ delusions , too , die hard with memory ”
she knows this word — delusions — but has never quite grasped its meaning. most voices who speak it echo with an insult : mockery of those who believe in false truths, she thinks, and obsidian fur bristles at the thought of own kin being described as such. they do not— did not lie. after everything, amidst memories singed by fire, that is perhaps the only truth she is irrevocably convinced of. were her words understood as something else ? ( did she choose the wrong ones ? )
❛ and if they remain ? ❜ akin gentle breeze resonates a distracted voice. where a maw of sharp teeth fails to shift, hazel eyes speak volumes : a decidedly childish wonder nearly drowning out the melancholy it belies. ❛ they are no delusions, then ? ❜
˗ˋˏ * PROMPT / OPEN.
