Chernobyl

When connect into an embrace she almost feels as if she could be instantly lulled to sleep, or into a meditative state at the very least. She absorbs the connection as if it is a life force, sucking it in with every breath; her nostrils buried in his feathers and fur. Her heart as always beats hard and fast, warm in her chest as it rubs against him. He smelled of solitude and snow, empty, crisp air is trapped in his coat. She on the other hand smells like a herd mare, though they pretend to be more complicated, that is all they are; a band. She has outgrown the rebellious need to leave them behind, for now anyways. The powers have shifted and so she’s decided to let go of angst and remain loyal to them…to a point. The idea of her and Murdock’s relationship being challenged by the unicorns is unfathomable – and intolerable. The thought drifts and his voice brings her ears and full attention back to him. Her black eyes appear happily sleepy, almost dazed looking, though she is very much alert.


“What made you come back?”

She smiles quaintly, as if entertained by the question. She is a bit of a sicko, as he well knows, and not always as soft to the rest of the world as she is to him. “You.” She peers to the ribbons of bright space-dust illuminating the night sky, the wind playing with the loose ends of her thick black mane. “It is not solitude I want forever, I know that now.” She exhales and slides her eyes affectionately back to his face. “I am capable, I’m glad to know that, but I’ll never intentionally exist alone again.” Her grin deepens at the edges, “Not without you.” She reaches for another bump of their muzzles now that they have peeled away from one another. She enjoys reminding herself that his is not a mirage, touching, poking, licking, chewing, breathing on him etc. Like a smitten filly; if she were outside herself watching she’d want to bash her own face off for acting so ridiculous.

She doesn’t let on that she even recalls the fear of the unicorns finding them out, or even caring. For now it seems they do not feel like delving into her private life – and if ever they did, she’d promptly tell them to go fuck themselves with a sharp stick. She simply keeps smiling at him, lipping the end of his muzzle and his soft nostrils and very gently caressing some of his feathers. “Do not worry about me, my Murdock – I have been received as if I never left…” Again she lightly discharges a breath onto his muzzle, the frozen air turning it to white smoke instantly as it billows over his dark nose. “And what of you? How have you been?”

But oh, I'm staring at the mess I made
As you turn, you take your heart and walk away