she's the sea i'm sinkin' in, he's the ink under my skin sometimes i can't tell where i am, where i leave off and he begins Stains of rain freckle the earth with claret and blue, wine and sorrow, and they trickle and dribble across her body, the trees' bodies, with slow and agonizing kisses. Wetness falls from the skin of branches above her head despite the calm of the skies, beads of humid warmth twinkle on the tips of all things green, quivering on the edges of her brows, her nose, catching in the knotted nests within her mane even though the angry clouds have not yet split, cracked, wept or sweat, and she watches through star-dust and lashes as the storm-less rainwater swims in the hollow veins of lichen, of oak-blood, the gnarls of elder roots that leap from the soil like slithering spines, failing to carve their own paths and instead cruelly following in what the Gods have provided for them, and she feels a peculiar stillness. The taste of rustic and nature's things is strong, here, in this unknown and wicked-forsaken meadow, and Liriope savors how it draws past her teeth and prickles on her hide and the dew and sweat and smell of midsummer, of dampness and birdsong and horrible, horrible peace, and she wishes immediately to fill it with something. With the rich tenor of faraway thunder her song and the darkening world her canvas, she balances on a risen foot of a vermillion ancient, her guardian, her sentinel, unleashing upon the gentle, tender noise between the brother-birches her own poison, her own brand, her own art: silence. OOC: For @[Tandavi] and/or @[Zünden], if neither of you guys mind each other's company <3 |
[OPEN] Mason Jars
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07-10-2014, 10:28 PM
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