[ The many voices echo back, her fingers sweep more broaching than sight ever could be. More satisfying to the part that was still one, not many. Along the line of her jaw, up her chin in symmetrical movements of mapping on her face. Thumbs settles in a pair on the middle of her mouth. ]
(From a burning world. )
[ Like a title on an artwork of too many shared moments, what she has seen through Ilde's mind and held in her body. That flicker of images that are butterflies open and closing wings span apart. Quick-slow-broad. Shut again. Of torture and destruction and ruining and worship she has felt like aftershocks from places that made them but would no longer be them. ]
(Gardner. Flower keeper. Scent of - )
[ Her lips part, her limbs shudder, her wings beat once more and in slow drop she inhales like that scent, of years and years ago, of a hallway, a room, of her skin tingling all the way down and her skin doing a different kind of burning. Down, down, down, like she alone could affect buoyancy as her bare feet settle flat to the ground, toes then heel. Rocking back. ]
( - Oh.) [ she shivers, mouth parted on a drunken feeling of that, and wash after wash of singular memories rinse her of others from her. To this. She shudders, heated and heavy, lips red and dark on her too pale skin that never, never could be coaxed to colour by the sun like those tended flowers, but rather by Ilde alone. ] ( Hello, Ilde. )
puts us both in the garbage can
[ The many voices echo back, her fingers sweep more broaching than sight ever could be. More satisfying to the part that was still one, not many. Along the line of her jaw, up her chin in symmetrical movements of mapping on her face. Thumbs settles in a pair on the middle of her mouth. ]
( From a burning world. )
[ Like a title on an artwork of too many shared moments, what she has seen through Ilde's mind and held in her body. That flicker of images that are butterflies open and closing wings span apart. Quick-slow-broad. Shut again. Of torture and destruction and ruining and worship she has felt like aftershocks from places that made them but would no longer be them. ]
(Gardner. Flower keeper. Scent of - )
[ Her lips part, her limbs shudder, her wings beat once more and in slow drop she inhales like that scent, of years and years ago, of a hallway, a room, of her skin tingling all the way down and her skin doing a different kind of burning. Down, down, down, like she alone could affect buoyancy as her bare feet settle flat to the ground, toes then heel. Rocking back. ]
( - Oh. ) [ she shivers, mouth parted on a drunken feeling of that, and wash after wash of singular memories rinse her of others from her. To this. She shudders, heated and heavy, lips red and dark on her too pale skin that never, never could be coaxed to colour by the sun like those tended flowers, but rather by Ilde alone. ] ( Hello, Ilde. )