[ There it is, so Zephir finally stops. Hand slipping out of Ptolemais' stomach, drenched in blood, he pinches a seed between index and thumb, holding it up against the light coming in from the window. Fascinated, like it's the first time he's seen anything like it; smiling because he's grateful that she said yes. ]
This is what we made together, love.
[ He lets her see it for a drawn out, intimate moment — then it goes in his mouth to be swallowed. A bizarre end for a fucked up collaborative project. Zephir heals her wounds next, fingers sliding up as skin stitches itself back together, smooth and healthy. The only evidence of his work is in the blood staining them both. ]
(She doesn't want to look at first and then, after he's held it to the light to admire, she looks and can't tear her gaze away from it, the little thing pinched in his bloody fingers, the sheen of it underneath all the red. There's more to it than the dark of the exterior; it glints when he twists it, brings it to his mouth. She exhales in a hard rush when he swallows.
Just like that.
She croaks,) Where did it go? (Maybe he's like a greenhouse inside, hollow and humid, and the seed will sink down and take root inside the lining of his body. It's intimate in a way she can't explain, made worse by the gentle way he sews her up, drawing the same lines up her to erase the hole in her.
She felt hotter when his hand was there and strangely empty now. It's hard to know what to say. Slowly she uncurls her hand from him, passing the breadth of her thumb across the nail marks left behind, which remain there.)
[ She is as she first started, skin sealed and blood staining them both, but Zephir watches as though he can see some change in her. Ptolemais is a part of him now, and she'll be a part of his garden soon, then part of a garden of her own. It'll be interesting to see how someone can take care of themself when a part of their body lives outside of it. Leaving the nail marks unhealed — for now — Zephir places his hand over her knuckles, smile small and gaze understanding, a fond gesture after the gruesome affair. ]
It'll leave my body eventually. Then I'll show you what was inside you.
[ The potential. The seed wasn't there until she drank his blood. ]
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no subject
[ There it is, so Zephir finally stops. Hand slipping out of Ptolemais' stomach, drenched in blood, he pinches a seed between index and thumb, holding it up against the light coming in from the window. Fascinated, like it's the first time he's seen anything like it; smiling because he's grateful that she said yes. ]
This is what we made together, love.
[ He lets her see it for a drawn out, intimate moment — then it goes in his mouth to be swallowed. A bizarre end for a fucked up collaborative project. Zephir heals her wounds next, fingers sliding up as skin stitches itself back together, smooth and healthy. The only evidence of his work is in the blood staining them both. ]
Thank you.
no subject
Just like that.
She croaks,) Where did it go? (Maybe he's like a greenhouse inside, hollow and humid, and the seed will sink down and take root inside the lining of his body. It's intimate in a way she can't explain, made worse by the gentle way he sews her up, drawing the same lines up her to erase the hole in her.
She felt hotter when his hand was there and strangely empty now. It's hard to know what to say. Slowly she uncurls her hand from him, passing the breadth of her thumb across the nail marks left behind, which remain there.)
no subject
It'll leave my body eventually. Then I'll show you what was inside you.
[ The potential. The seed wasn't there until she drank his blood. ]
Tell me how you feel.