It starts with an O, a round astonished sound. A surprised O of silence when she first steps into your line of sight. She slinks like a prowling feline, almost slithering, almost a snake. She makes the basest twisting of the body a graceful and seductive contortion. She slides out of the shadows, a luscious goddess, saunters up to you, takes your measure and, slowly, inspects you. Slit pupils wide in her silver eyes, echoing your surprised O, her gaze slides up and down your corpse. She is death, it is her lot.
Hesitation, having no idea what sentiments this herald of the ethers might feel towards your person. Independently from anything yo
It feels me with glee
Or at least I wish it did,
But my heart feels as if it's stopped
Beating
And blood flows coldly in my veins.
There's little warmth to me now,
Tomorrow I might be dead
Or dancing madly upon a hilltop
Hearing music from beyond the ethers.
Dancing to call the dragons
Bring them forth from their ethereal dimension
See them tear the sky asunder to reshape reality
And let magic flow into this world.
That day will never be
Not in this world
Whose shape is settled by its inhabitants.
The dragons will never ascend.