noteatisbecomeis
She presses herself to it, and it gathers against her gratefully, coiled as a cat, a heartbeat, thrumming as it speaks inside her mind.
shapedisthankis
There is a pause. It waits for her, waits for a response.
She presses against its golden skin and feels that hammering heart.
hellowhatis
What is she? She doesn’t know.
The gold pulses, rubs against her wrists. Not just light, but a creature. A sense of bone and scale.
Its voice soft, comforting.
knowingisibecause
She pulls it tight against her. Feels something small and sharp against her ribs. Claws? Teeth?
As she takes in a breath, she feels the wet weight of her lungs move. Lungs. In a body.
hellowhatis
It’s insistent now. Buzzing, resonant along the edges.
She presses against them, reaching for the shadows beyond, her fingers edged in gold.
And like silk before a shear, the edges give way.
Its voice is triumphant; jubilant.
whatis
She is lying in a bed, in a room, in a tower.
In her bed. In her room. In her tower. In Hesper.
A lamp gutters nearby.
She throws up in her mouth, feels it run back down her throat. Swallows.
whatiswhatiswhatis
Its voice different now. Closer.
The room seems empty. No edges, except those of the walls, the roof, the door.
Only the quiet hum of the gold remains.
Slowly, agonisingly, she moves her head to glance down at her chest.
The source of the gold curls there, a soft glow against the lamplight, her blood on its talons.
Its eyes are lazy and amber, its voice familiar, persistent.
whatis
