aure vives, ‘wildflower crush’

aure vives, ‘m.g.m.n.’

— Aure Vives, from ‘In heaven or whatever’

— aure vives, from ‘wildflower crush’

— Aure Vives, from ‘m.g.m.n.’

The angel was outside the lunar module again. Her small hands settled prayer-soft upon the window — it was as if she were peeking inside, head tilted, searching for a lost soul to guide. Though her eyes were closed, the warmth of starlight spilled out through her lashes and upon her cheeks. Inhuman, in everything she was, and gentle even so.  It was the rigid way she did not breathe that allowed her to blend in with the stark, dead shadows of the moon.  “Aren’t you early today?” said the astronaut walking up from behind, pace stuttering mid-step when the angel whirled around, her eyes wide and bright. “Sorry. I know I’m not usually outside.” A frozen look flickered onto the angel's face; a desolate half-moon’s passing. She leaned back into the module, her gaze turning ghost-dim and settling somewhere past the astronaut. It gave the disconcerting impression that the angel could see through the thick, reflective visor of the helmet, yet she chose to look anywhere but there. The astronaut hesitated, then sighed. “Actually, just now, I got lost wandering around. I grew up in a desert, but this place... It feels like it's shifting, everywhere I look." The astronaut swallowed, their next words turning hushed. "The moon — somehow, somehow, it feels more like an ocean instead.” The angel kept silent, and the last words could not echo in the vast expanse to fill the growing unsaid, so the astronaut asked, flustered, desperate: “Couldn’t you hear me come up behind you?” “…No,” the angel said at last. Her quiet, lilting voice swelled in the airless distance between them, more than the astronaut’s ever had. “I am not early." Her eyes slid shut again. "And I could not hear you.” It was the astronaut’s turn to stay silent, searching for words to say. "I am here to take you home, voyager," the angel continued, raising her hand in petition. “You are far from those who miss you.” "…Right. I keep telling you,” said the astronaut, all teeth in their faltering smile. “Nobody alive would miss me. That’s why I left.” “You are missed.” The angel kept her hand up, fingers outstretched with the gravity of a small sun, and the astronaut swayed, and almost took it, and almost let the heaviness swallow them whole. “You are missed.” Behind the angel, behind the crumbling module, laid a cracked helmet, facedown in the lunar dust.

The angel was outside the lunar module again, by Aure Vives.

@flashfictionfridayofficial — Prompt: #FFF210 The Sand Ocean. Genre: Speculative fiction. Word count: ~400.

you are not there, Aure Vives

AURE VIVES, to lull the deep awake

— AURE VIVES, from ‘some worlds away’

AURE VIVES, from ‘everyday revenants’

AURE VIVES, ‘even in death, you reach me, tender’

AURE VIVES, honeybee

AURE VIVES, ‘m.g.m.n.’

— AURE VIVES, ‘crystal lattice’

CONTEXT: Necromancer buys dried flowers at a shop where she regularly flirts with the owner. (￣▽￣)ゞ

— excerpt from Florilegium by Aure Vives

Thanks for the tags @jamiedeadwrites & @bluberimufim! 🌷 This is for the last line tag and in my defense this all started as a line lol

— Aure Vives, from ‘km ⇢ xo’

AURE VIVES, look at me before it ends