Denizens of Merlin's Island of Misfit Myths (andtheband) wrote in forgotten_ooc, |
That this encounter led to a physical manifestation of the delicate threads of mind and mystery that wove the two beings together was at once a strange surprise and a natural progression, as Khaos coalesced near her, around her, woman-man hands raising her palm to its mouth, the barest hint of teeth behind the touch of its lips. It was a joining that, to the outside eye, would rival the nation for disorder, for ferocity. But there was something else lurking in the way teeth and nails scored flesh even as bodies strained close and closer and closer yet, unsaid for long stretches of years and to remain unspoken for many more. They were not children, to need words. They were not mortals, to foolishly equate gentleness with tenderness. They were not lovers, to come together time and time again. But they were chaos and death, and as their little world burned around them, as their fellows and children sported and sang, they were together.
A meeting of equals. Such a joining was rare in Khaos' existence, and sparked strange impulses in the impulsive god-thing. To sate the insatiable, just for a little while. It was all, it was everything before there was even an everything to encompass. To rest its cheek against the curve of her proud neck. They could be complete, they two, in this pause between acts.
There was a moment within the stolen moment, almost-crowned Ereshkigal arched above with maybe-wings flaring, Khaos smiling beneath, curling around, darkness in its void-mouth deep enough to take in the flare of white teeth against black lips. There was a moment approaching transcendence, an oddly apropos interlude of deceptive calm in each of their perpetual storm-lives. And when the moment passed, there was a squalling sound.