YOU HAD SPENT YOUR JUVENILE YEARS SUNKEN IN THE POOLS OF CHILLY SHADOW. wounds licked by salt water, baptism by saline and hushed prayer mired by celestial transgression. here, she is a thousand of lightyears away from that meager trough of mineral. here, the solution around her tastes like tears even if it always carried the flavor of lament but she finally lets her own weeping surround her. WHAT IS ALL ENCOMPASSING IS THE ARMS WHICH CRADLE WHEN THEY SHOULD ENTRAP. they are a mass of sodden gauze and the filmy backless of cobweb veils set adrift ( tangle me up in it, wrap it around my throat ━ do something! be brave enough to finally raise your fist to me! do not give me your mercy! ) perhaps she would have screamed it if not for the weight of water pressing down upon them. the anguish only finds its form in the violent uproar of bubbles escaping her mouth and retreating to the surface. the cause is entirely helpless yet she fights against the tender hold around her ( i do not know how to be touched, i do not know how to be touched like this )
it is a gradual drifting upward, the air depleting from her lungs and she invites the ache for oxygen. a sick pleasure in the denial of a vital resource ━ you were nothing if not a reflection of the ninth. harrowhark nonagesimus was desolate land, terrain where nothing could grow, devoid of anything beautiful and petalled. she is practically dragged from the depths and still she is a fixture flush against @parabathai’s shoulder. not quite comprehending the response to her own admittance, no amount of forbearance could cease the reverend daughter's residual shame. DO NOT CATCH ME WITH MY SKIN ON, DO NOT MISTAKE ME FOR HUMAN. she is so unused to being a creature of flesh ━ in that sense, she haunts her own bones. the bareness of her face is profane, disgraceful yet the desire to obscure the truth of her appearance is a selfish one ( the unrealized innocence of nudity, how the starkness of something can speak to its purity ) the kiss is far from abrupt, it is slowly incoming but the necromancer is still unable to fathom the reality of it. it is only tangible when it results in an uncouth squeal harrow thought herself thoroughly incapable of up into now. from the bridge of her nose blooms a thalergetic warmth that imbues her cheeks with a heavy flush. the oaths they echo to one another are said in a haze of stupor ( one flesh, one end )
❛ why did you… why did you do that? ❜ they have waded in the pool in a blanket silence, gideon's palms framing the melted portrait of what was once a painted cranium. the low burning coals of her eyes are casted downward, staring into the mid-distance of the soft rippling waves breaking against the other girl's form. though their shared gaze has been broken there is the slight repair of this contract found in the tentative cuff she has around the cavalier's wrist. ❛ your vow alone would have sufficed. ❜ her vow alone was already more than the bone adept could have anticipated, much less hoped for as she hoped for little of anything.
