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Of course, it’s a LIE. 

    Myrrah had been raised in the far-reaching shadow of the one she had named Raam. The most fearsome of the warrior caste, he had led a crusade on the surface that cut a BLOODY swath through the highlands of Anvegad following the Pendulum Wars. It was during this campaign that Raam had shown a young Seran child mercy and brought her back to the Hollow. That child would go on to lead the Locust to their ultimate DESTINY. 

   To think of him posthumously brings her only sorrow. If only he were alive now. 

   “Welcome or not, you are my guest.” The queen rises from her throne and inhales sharply. “Rise.” 

   Dispatching this foolish girl would be all too easy. From the chandelier above, Myrrah’s most trusted assassin watches, wreathed in shadow. “Why are you here?”

“Oh…” She giggled, quickly getting to one knee. Asha would not rise until told. “My apologies. My… My father is something akin to a King. He always told me never to bow. Perhaps not a good habit to have learned…” 

   The young woman’s chin lifted, “Am I unwelcome in your court as a guest?”

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What are we made of but hunger and rage?

Anne Carson, excerpt of To Compostela (via antigonick)

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   How she came to rule over the Hollow is something Myrrah had not thought of for some time. It was now all but a distant memory; a recollection not worth sharing with the likes of a stranger. And a ground-walker, no less.

   “I have always been queen.” The Theron beside her bows its head, smacking a gargantuan fist to its chest. 

   Smoky lids slowly flutter over the queen’s baneful eyes, her mouth now a straightened line. “Has no one taught you to KNEEL in the presence of your betters, child?” 

It is not so much a question as it is an order. 

“I have plenty of time to satisfy such curiosities.” She says with a polite smile, lifting her head from the bow. Twin eyes the color of fir glance to her majesty and to her protector. A frightening sight, truly. But the girl’s humble nature usually kept her out of harm’s way. Not a mean or aggressive bone in her body.

   Was it enough?

“YOUR HIGHNESS, may I ask how you came to rule? I understand I’ve come without notice and it’s likely rude to ask, and if you’d like I shall see myself out.” Asha couldn’t help but let her smile grow wider, “I’m… just very interested in Queens…”

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“I am pleased to have satisfied your curiosity, my dear.” Her tone is gentle with an undercurrent of malevolence. Sweet, but DEADLY. Like the edge of a serrated knife kissed by a lover. It fills the great, royal chamber, as if spoken from everywhere at once. The QUEEN gives the armored giant beside her with a sidelong glance before returning the attention of her opal eyes to the intruder in her sanctum.

The creature that guards the queen whispers something in her ear, something that clearly amuses her. Her lips draw into a pointed smile. “Such a long way you have traveled, ground-walker.” The term is no affectation, nor is it derogatory. It is ACCUSATORY. 

@wiitchette

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                                                         do     you    know    the    fear    of     the   G O D S?

O B L I V I O N 

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Press the heart for a quick starter from everyone’s favorite despotic wine mom!

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                                                         LIFE IS CRUEL. 

                Of this, I have no doubt. One can only hope one leaves behind a lasting legacy. 

                But so often, the legacies we leave behind are NOT THE ONES WE INTENDED. 

                                                             ENTER THE HOLLOW

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The moral of the story is, I will gut you if I need to. I will carve my way out with only my teeth.

Brenna Twohy, from “Little Red Riding Hood Addresses the Next Wolf,” Forgive Me My Salt (via lifeinpoetry)

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█ ▌ａｎｄ ｗｅ ａｒｅ ｎｏｔ ｄｅａｄ ｙｅｔ

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