Sated on pleasure and blood both, Siobhan languidly stood in the red sand, her eyes still fixed on how the sand ran like liquid down her skin, skin that at the precise moment was a darker red than the sand would ever be. The serpentine tongue came out of her mouth and wrapped twice around her neck, bringing all of the delicious blood into the mouth of the Dark Goddess with a sigh of pleasure and contentment. She was covered in blood, baptized in the pleasure and pain of it and she indeed did feel worshiped. All of them were gone, not even the bones remained to tell anyone what happened here, just a Goddess covered with viscera and nothing else looking into the Universe she created, wondering where next to find those that loved her as much as these ones did.
Dara felt his heart hammering in his chest, the beasts long left behind him as his body felt more and more energy pour through it. He spread his arms wide, the wind pushing them back against him and only his immense strength gave him any chance of keeping them lifted as he wanted them to be. He felt the heat, such intense heat, build from deep inside of what it was to be him and it felt like it was spreading to the rest of him like a delicious virus that he wanted to roll in and make his own. It was not evil, it was nothing but the utmost expression of who Dara was. He closed his eyes, at last, his arms still in the wind, his feet hitting the groundless often, but with tremendous force when they did. He knew what was coming now, he did not know if his Goddess had gifted him this on purpose, or if it was but destiny, but as he opened his eyes and saw the horizon lower more and more as he grew, he knew the greatness inside of him was so close now.
Neart stood in the center of her own world, covered in millions of her brothers and sisters as they licked and tasted every inch of the blood and gore that was left in the circle. The bones had been stripped, their fallen cannibalized, all that was left was the perfection of Neart in the center of the circle like a great beacon that drew more and more as time passed. She knew they would not, could not hurt her, she knew that she needed as many of them as there were, she needed to move to the next stage, the next level. The feeling that she knew what was coming grew every second and when she spread her wings, new and cleansed of the horrors they had wrought, she felt something building inside of her. It was a glorious thing, and then, as her eyes flew open and she smiled, she knew.
Siobhan walked a moment on the sand, relishing the feel of it the last time before she closed her eyes and on her next step, she was surrounded by the darkness of home. She could feel Neart and Dara and knew they would be back soon, they would have questions and Siobhan prepared herself to give them answers. It was a necessary thing, what was happening and she knew that she had made it as wonderful for the both of them as she could but still they would be confused when they returned, but all would be well. Siobhan walked up to the dais where the Three sat and sat in the middle seat there, it was not ornate, a simple stone carving. She smiled and felt the warmth that the dress she now wore provided, the black and silver of it covered nothing, and yet revealed even less.
She closed her eyes and whispered a few words to show them the way home when they were ready.
Soon all would be revealed.
© 2019, TheJameyBear. All rights reserved.
I am JameyBear. Liberal. Hippie. Dad. Widower. Poet. Author. Sarcastic Ass. Friend. Lover. Hater.
I have lied and cheated, stolen and done violence in word and deed.
I have given the shirt off my back and they wanted the skin underneath instead.
I am a notorious soft touch, wearing my heart on my sleeve and wanting to make everyone happy.
I tip too much, too often, too many places, and it is has burned me even as recent as this week.
I love everyone I have ever hated still. I will always love the memory of being in love with them.
I want to be your friend. No. I want you to want me to be your friend.
I am clingy and needy, dependent and hopelessly lost in times that I will never live in.
I use language that was archaic when archaic was a new word in the early 19th century.
I want to record myself reading everything so people won’t forget me when I disappear.
I talk too much, listen too deeply, process too quickly and infer way too much.
My beard is also better than yours