The Heart of a Luna
Neither of them were wrong and neither were right, but that didn’t stop them from discussing anything like two rational beings.
Very often, I’d come home from hunting or raiding, and find both of them bleeding on the floor, their claws still out.
As I keep telling Lyric. Immortality is a curse.
I strip down to my underwear, and settle on my father’s bed, which is softer than mine. I link my fingers behind my head, and stare up at the familiar old roof high above me.
I listen to Lyric, no Star, tossing and turning in my cave. She’s loudly talking to herself, debating whether or not she wants to follow me and seduce me anyway.
Bab Populer