Tiger Snake

She’d been dreaming.

Surrendering.

Stretching out like an atlas beneath the welcomed invasion of night.

The darkness knew how she liked to be fondled. Where she wanted to be kissed.

Too swiftly she awakens into magic; at the world’s darkest, lushest mecca. All around, violet wildflowers and the sweetest, most tangible scents, feathering her mind. Shallows pools fill the air with water. Her heart with longing.

Eset falls back into the overgrowth, looks up into petals.

If only she could touch her. @Tavina. Her name like an old wish on the silent maiden’s tongue. This might be heaven, then.

But it couldn’t be— couldn’t, because, “you are not here.”

The amber eyes shut everything out of existence.

“It is only a dream.”

It had only ever been that.
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 sleep was a luxury and tavina was a peasant.

 the sesh kept nuri at an arm's length, close enough to depend upon. but there was a place she did not cross. her body's cries were silenced by herbal decoction, but nights were a torment. in those hours crept exhaustion, slunk anger, moved memory, and they coalesced over tavina with such ferocity that she often did not sleep till dawn.

 what was it called when a woman did not dedicate herself to god but to study? what was it called when a woman let her flesh desiccate rather than squander the last memory she had of a loved face?

 her mixture that night had an additional ingredient, for tavina knew the sleeplesness would fracture her. and so she lay curled alone in pelts that felt empty, thinking miserable adulations until at last her eyelids fell.

 it was a breeze which woke her, a soft wind starkly unlike the still air of the desert. birds called to one another, and her herbalist's could not help but notice that the flora here was entirely unfamiliar.

 tavina rose warily, turning in all directions. 

 she trailed the scent of violets.

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A figure makes the night new. A velvet darkness emerges from the earth. Her scent is sudden and singing Eset’s sky into place.

“This is a dream,” on broken breath she moans, with glistening eyes she stares. It is only a dream and there is nowhere else she wants to be but here.

She leans into the tense rhythm of her heart to where it leads: a spill of illumination which centers over Tavina.

Tavina! Tavina—

Her body is strong and celestial black. Her face is aged and angular and handsome. The purpled eyes have their knowing silence and the coyote beckons, begs for them to be put on her.

The amber of her own drains out all her hoarded emotions. How many nights has she lain awake, dreaming of just this? Something to hold onto, even if only the cinquefoil imaginings of her own mind.

“May I touch you?” A whisper. Eset does not dare stir a step closer. Not yet.
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 that lavender tendriling led tavina to the midst of a grassland wherein petals floated upon the air.

 she knew at once the shape; her eyes betrayed her with blurring salt which overflowed from cloven heart. no. no. she had not thought she would see again —

 but it was indeed eset, all of her, all the lines of kissed body and the surmounting love in the eyes which captured tavina. "please," almost a moan, her own arms reached in a way she might never act in life.

 if eset could not walk, then the sesh ended their distance, wending against her heart the fellahin, tears falling in crazed and jagged rivulets. be this a dream, she was not able to suffer the idea of wakening.

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It is the sesh who plunges them into oblivion, so tight against one another's' chest that every sound is muffled and trivial save the tremor of tearshed. In a most fragile reach Eset cups a paw to the salted cheek, pulling back to see more clearly the precious face she holds.

Anguish turns to a smile, turns to gentle laughter. Then silence. Long, wistful, silence.

It is not fair, these fleeting teases. Eset breaks them apart, moving off where she can watch the woman in full. She knows this is fantasy; nothing which she can perceive in the true world equals the power of Tavina’s intense eyes.

A noise softens the back of her throat. The fellahin must force herself to look away; down, down at feet.

“I… I want so desperately to belong to you.”
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 "but you do, eset!" she cried, her own paw raising to trace the line of that much-beloved jawline; "you have long been mine and i have always been yours." there was no way to bear being parted; her arms were around the hebsut and her mouth seeking that honeyed warmth of tongue and lips which had come to represent a sense of home for the sesh.

 tavina strove for them both; had there been layers of coiffed chiffon and tight-laced brocade, she would have unlaced the laces then with shaking hands;

 how might she show eset how long they had been part of one another?

 the scent of violets rising around them, crushed, vibrant, tavina sliding her palm along belly tautened with breath to find eset; "i have never stopped being yours."

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