Word Count :: 422 Blah. IDEK if you wanted to continue this, but I felt bad so I gravedug. ;_; We could wrap up in a post or two; sadOuijaEris makes me saaad. <3 \:
There was an emptiness in the pallid god, a seeming indifference for her that sent a stab of guilt through her chest. The sable-shaded woman knew she ought to have taken him with her; she knew she ought to have been with him rather than Larkspur, perhaps even rather than Haku. Of any of the men she had encountered since coming here to this part of the world, Ouija would have been the best of them, she thought. There was stability in his muscled arms, all dappled with the colors of wild nature. Her chartreuse eyes regarded his jade-colored ones as he spoke, her ears drooping and her chin falling nearly to meet her chest.
The coyote woman lifted her head up as he spoke her name, though her heart had sunk straight through her guts and was lurking somewhere in her pelvic region, beating right next to her children. The coyote woman's smile blossomed slowly, though her heart did not rise, and sadness lingered in her chartreuse gaze. It had lost all its razor sharpness and womanly confidence, and instead now seemed girlish and small. “I would have had you. I should have. It's a cruel trick of fate to separate us,” the coyote murmured, tilting her cheek into his hand and brushing the bug away. She cared only for his touch.
There was a strange sort of hesitation in her, and her gaze grew blank, distant, gazing over the field that flickered with the yellow lamps of the tiny bugs. “I want you, Ouija, but I cannot have you in the way either of us want,” the coyote confessed. There had been instability in her life and she would not give that over to her children. Her voice had grown hesitant, and she continued only after this pause. “My children have a father and I will not do to them as was done to me. I didn't know my father's name until I was a grown woman -- they will have their blood father.”
“We are more than friends, but we can't be together as we truly deserve,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “At least not in this life. There are others to come, though, and we will know each other in all of them,” the hybrid murmured. She writhed closer, nudging her body against his and drawing her arms about his waist. Her hands rested on the knotted muscle of his back, and she inhaled his scent, earthy and reminiscent of Anathema.
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