Had it not been for the storm that brewed violently above them, her snout would've caught the scent of blood. The metallic substance that tried to clot as it oozed out of an injury constantly reopened with each stride as muscles flex, expanding outwards and stretching skin, ripping open scabs and forming scars. Though his wounds bled blood like the tears of a lover foresaken, she was unaware. The sounds of his hooves shuffling closer went unheard. The only sound ricochetting around her spiraling mind was the sound of the rains pounding on every part of her body. Her back. Her Wings. Her snout. Her ass. Her ears which are twisted backwards, blocking the cool wetness from entering them.
Some things she would remember clearly. Other things she would remember only as shadows, or not at all. It was a matter of adhesion. What stuck and what didn’t. For instance, she could recount with precision that a few days ago she had been laying inert in the sun, half dozing, half daydreaming and that the days following were large and empty. Bursts of blue and grey blurring out the details of the sky as rain came and went. And with it came the dying scent of winter and spring. From what she remembered, she knew the mornings were always better. Dew and sun showers played with bodies of waters and blades of grass then. It was when she hadn't had the chance to think deeply about everything, which would inevitably thrust her deeper into the spiral she often encountered.
She did not move as he uttered her name. She did not even offer him a glance. Within her jaw, her tongue moved in sync with her lips and her breath to create a soft cluck, cluck, cluck sound. For horses, the sound was only ever taken in one way: onwards. After a moment of silence, she began to stir. Her tail slapped back and forth, its wet strands swinging behind her ass like whips. She began moving forwards, her pace steady and even. Perhaps the clucking was her way of saying she was leaving, or perhaps it was some strange sort of invitation for him to join her onwards. Or even, perhaps the sound just felt natural to her and should not be thought about too deeply. Afterall, trying to understand her would never work. Aurelia was the most complex being around. She was a riddle that no one would ever be able to solve. She had her secrests. And they were everywhere—land mines beneath the soil, snares atop the plush grass, arrows falling from the sky. He would be ambushed from all directions should he attempt to understand her. "Curiosity killed the cat." Her voice left her lips lightly, a feminine drawl adding a sort of sing-song quality to it that contradicted the way she looked and the way she felt and the way she acted. Her voice was the only thing that seemed normal about her right now.
In the blink of an eye she halted abruptly, spinning around to face the lad, curious to see what he had to say, her eyes fluttering from one patch of blood to another. "Striking as ever," she offered sarcastically, eying the various injuries that dotted his body.
Siren's Summit
