Flashing back to one of our favourites from Henna.
[Trigger warning: suicide, self-harm]
He first appeared as a lump in my throat, rising with the spring floods. A few days later, I found him again, lying in the water. I picked him up, mud-drenched and moldable, and like the goddess Athena breathed life into his figure. I then lent him my fire, which he used to light up the world around us.
That fall, he taught me how to hunt – our bodies merged together in an endless cycle of rebirth, the glory of the kill pulsing through our veins. Using my spiky nibs to slice trough prey, I felt myself growing stronger. Meanwhile, the forest grew dense, shielding our distorted figures from the world. I soon started to forget what water tasted like.
Every night, he’d watch me from outside the window, covered in frost. You foul thing, I exclaimed, my thorns scraping against his…
View original post 245 more words