DALIA, the secretary of the Moon Goddess, is met by the deity's most troubled victim; the first and only lycanthrope. In a violent heist, the lycan abducts the loyal secretary as leverage.
Two figures from different worlds are forced to revaluate t...
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The two of us promenaded down a staircase and through endless corridors for the everwatchful consciousness of the walls. Every space was polished in shadow, the train of my eyes stayed faithful to the Beast's back.
It wasn't long before he unlatched another door for me, revealing the blinding white fruits of the region. It looked soft, like the gentlest of cried powder tears, gnawing at the looming darkness to my backside. Even with the dimmed quality of dusk, the colorlessness of it was as sharp as unfiltered Sun rays. It took a moment of udjusting.
We stepped barefoot into the snow, clad in our matching summer linens, and to my ankles it piled, but up my whole body the chills tampered.
I realized the building was lodged directly on a mountainside, as the outback was an immediate elevation, a view I couldn't see from the bedroom window. The Beast led me up the jagged terrain, where we trudged through for a little while in peacekeeping silence. His strides were long and blunder free, the tension in his achilles tendons unwound with each step, lifted from the snow.
Congregated in small, drifting pools and streams along the ridges of the hill were the springs, hidden below the mist they produced. Unseen water trickled in the veins of the mountain. Along the edges of the rocks the snow had melted away and the surface was slicked wet in nudity.
As we approached the sight I could feel the chilled rule of the snow waver in the contact of the stray mist.
In front of me the Beast was lifting his shirt off his body and pulling the distressed material over his bowed head. His back had been properly desecrated by the wolves' onslaught. It was hatched in half dried gashes and intermingled puss. I could see bits of dirt that clung to the irregular patterning of his lacerated flesh.
I remembered his pained face, twisted in determination, when he covered me with himself, removing me from the battlefield and from my saviors at his body's expense. Now, he didn't acknowledge the damage that had been done to him. He pulled one leg up from the dwindled snow seamlessly and slipped a pant leg off, the other followed shortly after. His clothes he left discarded in a small pile, wetted by the day's past snowfall.
I watched him lower himself onto the ledge, his ass meeting the stone.
When I saw indistinct ripples of light flutter across the pool's surface I looked up to see the fully risen Moon, countless clouds sailing beneath her, steered by the bored sylphs. When had it gotten so late?
As he was submerged among the heat I tentatively walked up to the edge, looking down into the water, where the bottom could not be seen. I kneeled down, occupying the same space he had been on the ledge moments before, slipping the tips of my fingers into the heated serenity.
I was hesitant to climb in after him. There was a strange feeling pervading inside of me. I didn't want to take my clothes off, to be exposed to the Beast without any borders between our bodies. Not for a second did I want to undress and slide into the comfort of his hot springs, have the tranquil water coax and conciliate me, make me feel calmed for even a moment in the presence of this predator. With the Moon's illumination veiled over us, I was reluctant to let myself go.
