Post by Zohartze on Jun 17, 2015 15:36:07 GMT -5
She watched them. Just like old times.
Like the invisible shadow, like the weed grown behind rocks where no eye could peer, like the unnoticeable change in the winds during the spring, like the wet spot on the ground that takes too long to dry after the rain. Her breath was still, her heartbeat slow, her ears pricked. In plain sight, she was invisible again. And so she heaved a heavy breath, wet with forgiveness and resignation and success, her exhale met with a shaking of her head, slow and thoughtful, as a smile of relief stretched across her maw.
Zohartze stretched her paws into the wet sand of the atoll, close enough to the water that the sand was cool, but not so close that she would be engulfed by a lapping wave.
As if on cue, a familiar figure was walking slowly towards her. They’d agreed to meet here today, but as always, Zohartze was almost surprised when she appeared. Datura was graceful, the way she placed her paws. She’d lost the extra weight that came along with bearing pups, as had Zohartze—and she was beautiful and fit, and as always, she moved only with purpose, as if every step were deliberate and missionary. The Mexican mix admired her so, and if it were possible for her to blush at the sight of her, she would. Every time.
She wasn’t sure what the Matriarch felt towards her. Zohartze was stuck in a kind of motion of kinship that was comfortable, but being around Datura was like hard liquor. After every meeting, she was hungover, and at any motion of her name or any glance across the meal pile, she was struck with pangs of need for the closeness. After a few days, the feeling would subside, and she’d be content with their friendship. But with every new meeting, the feeling stirred again, and she was loose and alive. It was infuriating to her, the need for someone else. And she could never put her paw on what, exactly, it was that she wanted from the other femme. But the feeling was different, like fire down her spine.
Before she got to close, Zohartze averted her eyes with a nod and a smile, her typical almost-shy greeting to her closest friend, unspeaking. She waited for Datura to settle, knowing it would be close beside her, and she smiled again and watched their two litters play-fighting in the distance. The pups were grown. They didn’t really need her anymore. It was a relief, more sweet than bitter. They would grow and fight for Kairos. For Goliath.
She hadn’t spoken with Datura about those feelings, either. But today was not the time.
“They’re ready to leave us,” she spoke to Datura softly. They never spoke very loudly around one another. There was no need.
Like the invisible shadow, like the weed grown behind rocks where no eye could peer, like the unnoticeable change in the winds during the spring, like the wet spot on the ground that takes too long to dry after the rain. Her breath was still, her heartbeat slow, her ears pricked. In plain sight, she was invisible again. And so she heaved a heavy breath, wet with forgiveness and resignation and success, her exhale met with a shaking of her head, slow and thoughtful, as a smile of relief stretched across her maw.
Zohartze stretched her paws into the wet sand of the atoll, close enough to the water that the sand was cool, but not so close that she would be engulfed by a lapping wave.
As if on cue, a familiar figure was walking slowly towards her. They’d agreed to meet here today, but as always, Zohartze was almost surprised when she appeared. Datura was graceful, the way she placed her paws. She’d lost the extra weight that came along with bearing pups, as had Zohartze—and she was beautiful and fit, and as always, she moved only with purpose, as if every step were deliberate and missionary. The Mexican mix admired her so, and if it were possible for her to blush at the sight of her, she would. Every time.
She wasn’t sure what the Matriarch felt towards her. Zohartze was stuck in a kind of motion of kinship that was comfortable, but being around Datura was like hard liquor. After every meeting, she was hungover, and at any motion of her name or any glance across the meal pile, she was struck with pangs of need for the closeness. After a few days, the feeling would subside, and she’d be content with their friendship. But with every new meeting, the feeling stirred again, and she was loose and alive. It was infuriating to her, the need for someone else. And she could never put her paw on what, exactly, it was that she wanted from the other femme. But the feeling was different, like fire down her spine.
Before she got to close, Zohartze averted her eyes with a nod and a smile, her typical almost-shy greeting to her closest friend, unspeaking. She waited for Datura to settle, knowing it would be close beside her, and she smiled again and watched their two litters play-fighting in the distance. The pups were grown. They didn’t really need her anymore. It was a relief, more sweet than bitter. They would grow and fight for Kairos. For Goliath.
She hadn’t spoken with Datura about those feelings, either. But today was not the time.
“They’re ready to leave us,” she spoke to Datura softly. They never spoke very loudly around one another. There was no need.
w o r d s : 483 m u s e : meh t a g s : @datura