[attr="class","staffcont"]
[attr="class","appheader"]
[attr="id","hydracol"]MIRTO VASILI
[attr="class","appprimary"]
[attr="class","apptraitscont"]
[attr="class","apptrait"][attr="id","hydracol"]hydra
[attr="class","apptrait"][attr="id","hydracol"]twenty-six
[attr="class","apptrait"][attr="id","hydracol"]she / her
[attr="class","apptrait"][attr="id","hydracol"]bisexual
[attr="class","apptrait"][attr="id","hydracol"]panthera
[attr="class","apptrait"][attr="id","hydracol"]enchantress
[attr="class","appbody"]
[attr="id","hydracol"]
hunger is desire by another name
the gentle press of a distaff, slipped just beside her elbow; [break]a spindle coaxing wool into her waiting palm; [break]clotho, her fingers true and taut, ensnared by string—[break][break]
and here rises birth, as she knew it would.
[break]
“you should name her mirto.”[break]
the voice leaks out of silence, pouring over the air;[break]
an assenting hum follows.
golden rod appraises string; [break]ravenous eyes engulf each twist; [break]a curl nests in pale cheeks— [break]she can taste rapture between her teeth.[break][break]
it had been far too long since she had such tempting twine to toy with.[break][break] “to sacrifice a child is a great evil.”
“perhaps to you. to us, a catalyst.”
a breath held,
her ribs aching,
“you would truly do this?”
[break]
a laugh. [break]
“for Him? we would do anything.”[break][break]
lachesis studies each thread, coiling them over her thumbs. [break]her sister is sat beside her, [break]eyeing this show of scrutiny.[break]
“it is not often you play with two at once.”
[break]
lachesis merely smiles, [break]
presses her fingers to atropos’, [break]sculpts them into fist.[break][break]
“pause before the second string.”
[break]
the clip of scissors flits over ears;[break] after silence, it speaks again.[break] the sisters stay only a beat following, [break]
then depart once more for the spindle, [break]their greedy hands outstretched.
[break]
✺✺✺[break][break]
[ wind-worn slab of wood grips iron, a broken vial etched in its grooves; aconite hugs a windowpane, asphodel lines the glass; draughts and tonics sit on endless shelves, phials glinting in the moonlight.[break][break]
found in the dead limb of a labyrinth, haven to the hidden, the forgotten— [break]
the forsaken
—apothecary has nestled into brick. ]
[break]✺✺✺[break][break]
an ache has begun to huddle beneath the knuckle of her center finger,[break]
hard and unrelenting for the quill caught between;
[break]
( parts of her cling so close to protest, duty-bound though they are. )
[break]
the oathkeeper’s stare shone, sunstruck, as a beacon against the twilight;[break]
sotiri, wreathed in dusk, ichor spilling out over inky black,[break]
looks at her in the way gods do mortals;
she could feel the burn of him brush her cheek, [break]and as steady as her hands were,[break]
mirto’s jaw was grit with every etch;[break]
( with contempt. )
[break]“you are not worthy of my subservience. even of my respect.”[break][break]
there is a pounding in her temple; [break]
she cannot help but laugh. [break]
[break]
i am the unworthy one?[break]
i, when your chest breaks open at the slightest fury?[break]
i, when bloodlust hunts your every step?[break]
i, when i have done nothing but answer for you? [break]
[break]“spare me. you are no better than a savage, in need of a muzzle.”
[break]
and now is when his jaw flares, stark white and guttural,[break]
booming and chasing air from the room;[break]
he is swathed in his righteousness, rage rippling over his shoulders[break]
( she can make out her mirror in his eyes )
[break]
“do not forget,” ( his eerie, unnerving, burrowing eyes )
[break]
“whatever i am is part of you.”
[break]
the fates often play cruel jokes.
✺✺✺[break][break]
the shop is quiet, serene,[break]
only a viridian sea, [break]
foaming and cauldron-cradled beside her,
slipping itself through the cracks.
[break]
oh, the intimacy of routine.
[break]
a talisman is nested between thumb and forefinger,[break]
grimoire parted on the tabletop.[break]
mirto, raven-eyed and searching, [break]runs her fingers over its words,[break]
familiar though they are.[break][break]
monotony sleeps on the back of her neck—[break][break]
the door soars, cracking the silence into the wall;[break]
hands are desperate, digging into cloth;[break]
a man chokes on his own tongue—[break]
“iro.”
moon-haired and pale-eyed,[break]
her grandmother is beside her, becomes tempest,[break]
flying before her name had touched the air.[break]
a vial of dittany and a sprig of vervain;
( she had the man’s arm slung over her shoulder by then )
no dawdling.
[break]
[ if you were to ask her, now,[break]
how they managed to stop the bleeding,[break]
plead until the bone returned to its skin,[break]
kept the scars from their weeping,[break]
she would speak only of the end. ][break][break]
“i owe you one. again.”[break]
sweat marries blood as they walk along his neck, collarbones,[break]
climb up to his crown and flood his hair;
demand his pain be witnessed.
[break]
still, he is smiling. [break][break]
iro laughs,
( the way you would in broken breaths )
and turns her head,[break]
snaking the tip of her needle [break]
through the man’s flesh;[break][break]
mirto watches the wound come back to itself,
like a scream in a closing mouth.
[break]
✺✺✺[break][break]
[attr="class","appplayedby"]played by [attr="class","appooc"][attr="id","hydracol"]SIR0
