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❛ "angel," he calls me / does he know that i'm falling / from a precipice that i tripped off long ago? ❜
THE FRUITS// PARIS PALOMA
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AT MOONLIGHT'S PEAK, Eisha choked upon the snowstorm and decay of Khorm each night. It forever haunted her: the thoughts; the touch; the feel; the smell. Everything from that time was still so alive, so ever-present.
It was killing her from the inside.
A constant restless battle. A deep-seated bitter cold that she couldn't entirely wash from her system, no matter how hard she scrubbed. No matter how often her arms glistened red. An itch for the cure; for she knew the nightmares that came weren't all she brought back from the icy planet.
No, something else awoke in her that night.
Someone else.
Entwined tightly within her bones: moonlight silver and crimson red blood ensnaring the entity she now felt running inside her. Inevitable and bright in the cosmos, with a relentless taunting tearing her to ruin. A ghost of a claw scratching her neck; a fist squeezing the vessels of her heart; a penetrating whisper always flooding her skull.
Little Lleu.
The frosted taunting desperately wanted the Vashuni's attention. She spoke incessantly, and only in daylight was it tolerable. Though under the fluorescence of the moon, her voice grew a knife-like edge that pierced her skull.
Little Lleu, why do you fear the storm?
Blood filled her throat once more. The bitter iron returned to her tongue as she harshly bit down. As the claws scraping at her spine grew closer each night; the pain was the only way to keep them at bay, to stop them drawing nearer, the only way to keep her grounded. After all, it wasn't real — it couldn't be real.
