Sikeax

“You no good.”
I’m sorry.
“Hurt.”
His voice feels like a gift in the dark. Cool water hangs around her body, a thin blanket that laps at her damp skin when she forces it to swell in it’s enclosure. Hobgoblin had complained that it was cold when he attempted to sink into her alongside her body and had swiftly chosen on the pastime of wandering nearly aimlessly through the caves. She guesses that it has been some time since she has felt the violence of the Sun against her. In the darkness, guided only by the faint light of drawings on the walls above the pool she presses herself deeper into and the withering, dying flowers that glow with their fading gasps, there is nothing to tell between the transition of the Moon and the Sun.
She chooses not to care about it. Underground, she could lock herself away for weeks on end and avoid the surface, speaking to those that venture in on occasion. The glowing food doesn’t even upset her stomach at this point, and with the vast amount of foods from the glowing room that she has so greedily thrown into her stomach, it’s a surprise her droppings don’t glow with it.
“Bored. Hungry. Chest hurt.”
I apologize.
“Miss home.”
Heavy with the emotions that she has spent hours working over in her head, her heart sinks like a stone in the sea. Age should wear down the features on their faces. It fills up the empty spaces in his skull like the liquid that rolls from her eyes, bleeding oceans that steadily turn into rivers. How many times has she cried while thinking? Hobgoblin’s hunger pains her stomach, or quite possibly it belongs to herself. It returns without effort til she cannot stand both the intense need and her brother’s complaints.
She rises from the water as if she is aged and a part of the stone itself. The droplets that reach for scared hands with panic-filled speed kiss her one more time before huddling into one another and falling to home in thinning streams. A shiver runs through her like a ghost.
Hobgoblin watches with the aged eyes he can’t place in this body. Not a word, not a single feeling of his soul and emotions except for her sadness. It loops through them like blood in veins and arteries, returning to Sikeax’s ruined heart to be exchanged for more.
Go ahead. The plant room. You can go above if you’d like, but there’s probably still some mice and fish in the river.
Silence keeps its blank face in the room as they fall in step beside one another. No lashes are exchanged, no rides given to a partner(Hobgoblin) when their body feels the slightest hint of being tired.
Once in the room, they break apart like two perfect puzzle pieces, meant to hold one another with tight embraces and yet to easily slip away as if to be a pair of strangers.
For her, the water welcomes her better than any lover, the moss littered about the edges giving itself away to her teeth with no restraint. She tries to close her eyes and deafen out everything when the shrill, gut-wrenching cries of death take up the empty space and ebb away the feeling of hunger.


"talk talk talk"