❝ i'm searching, i'm searching. i'm trying to understand. ❞ / from hubrist @ raja
TRESSES OF BRONZE HAIR glide down the slope of her shoulders as she begins to rise from the seat of her not-throne built of old bones. Her long fingers linger on the gilded frame, nails stained with the rusty red of stubborn blood. She moves, and the golden bangles clink against one another, muted in the space they occupy.
The shallow bed of water that separates them form ripples when her bare feet touches it, diminishing the distance between her and him, distorting their reflections momentarily.
"Cease your search, sorcerer." Her voice sounds like the hum of a willow tree. "It will come to you, when it comes."