It felt nice to be carried she'd chosen inmost at the base-streams of her shadow-soul, once the luxury of it was seized from her so delicately by Stranger, or rather there was a distinct splendor in the foreign sensation of feeling weightless. To be without the heaviness of the dragging of the corpse required for existence--so tedious--it was divine. Any less intoxicated, she would have recoiled at him being near her, but at the moment nothing stirred a common percussion at the burial.
A patterned, bright black blanket of void, poked and slit with outstretched stars, crawled across the back of her glitter-licked, cat-lined eyelids. A twisting dance that stripped and exposed. Made reality seem naked. Made her wake up a little. She wasn't blotted out anymore. She was dizzily, unfortunately, a tad more here. She hated it. The doors of her eyes flung open, vacant, two miry rivers in the land of the dead, leaned back onto the coffin cushions to avoid swaying.
"But you do trust me." her cold hands cradled her hot face; was she talking to herself or to him? "Because you aren't afraid." an index stole away, pointed out at him, lining the far-off shape of his face without touching it. "Where do you live?"