Hunting Arcadia

By: Cinya Posted on: April 21, 2010

Wildly she danced that sanguine dance,

her thrusts frenzied, desperate,

insatiable as Chaos itself, and

her parries barely keeping metal from her face.

The motions were red and primal;

muscle memory, synapse after synapse,

her brain flushed with anger until numb like

the newly-dead Queen Belladona

during her own ecstatic slaughter.

As flesh and feathers hit the ground,

the wings beat once more, then soak through

with that warm, coin-scented fluid.

She still sees red, and their death rattles echo;

"The Skylord give me strength!"

But she just scowls at their ignorance,

her voice thick and bitter as she assures them,

"The Skylord will give you nothing."