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VIDUAMOR.

THUNDER COULD NOT COMPARE,   the roar from a lion’s maw could not compare,   NOTHING COULD    —-   nothing would dare.   she feels her before she hears her,   knows her before she sees her  [ GLOWING RUNES, THE THUD OF HER HEART MULTIPLIED ],   & knows also that the next moments will not know peace.   natalia stands from her chaise just as quickly as the doors are thrown open,   watching as the thin portiere is blown aside both by wind & by the voice of woman she does not want to see at such an unholy hour.   [ IF ONLY SHE COULD DENY HER, IF ONLY THE HIGH PRIESTESS DID NOT CLING TO HER EVEN HERE : CINDER & SPICE ]

❝    what does it matter to you ?    ❞   perhaps there could have been calm,   perhaps this could have been anything other than TEMPEST : STORM,   but surely the fates knew better than any that they are not capable of such a thing in such close quarters    ——   at least,   not anymore.   she stands as rigidly as her resolve allows,   even under violetta’s glower,   even as she stalks forward with the rage so known of her.    ❝    I AM NOT YOURS TO -    ❞   if only this could last,   if only natalia could remain immovable.  ( WHAT IS TO BE DONE BENEATH A LOVER’S ACRIMONY ? )    a sound is pulled from her without mercy   —   HALF GASP / HALF GROAN   —   as violetta grabs her,   hand slipping between her thighs & shaping around the bundle of her dress that has gathered there.   [ SURELY, THERE IS NO DELICATE WAY TO SAY THIS, TO SEE THIS, TO KNOW THIS ]   were she not in such shock,   were her back not so ungracefully met with the wall behind her & her neck held so tightly by soft fingers,   she would have protested,   would have returned violetta’s anger in kind   –   THEN AGAIN, PERHAPS SHE WOULD NOT HAVE.

‘ARE YOU TRYING TO MAKE ME JEALOUS ?’   candlelight flickers in the corner of her chambers,   catching her eye as she watches it dance as much as she tries not to writhe against the wall.   IT IS NOT UNHEARD OF FOR HER LOVE TO HAVE HER LIKE THIS,   yet it is rare that she does so with such ireful focus,   natalia cannot help but succumb to the jealousy she so stirs in her.   SHE HAS HALF A MIND TO BEG HER TO TORMENT HER FURTHER.    ‘I AM A JEALOUS PERSON.’   the admission burns at her ear,   ignites her belly so intensely her fingers shoots forward to grab the wrist whose hand takes charge of her UNDOING.   a strangled whimper bursts from her,   past the strength that still chokes her with such a loving inferno she might drown in it.   ❝    violetta  —    ❞   desperation clings to every syllable,  to every inch of shimmering skin,   & it is no shame to her that her unoccupied hand moves to cover violetta’s,   to encourage her to ruin her.   HER HEAD SPINS WITH THE THOUGHT,  HER WANT DRIPS FROM HER MOUTH,   & in such a moment she is caught between forgetting all reason & remembering it to her bliss all the more.    ❝    PLEASE  —    ❞

HER DESIRE SWELLS   &   WEBS ALONG HER SKIN,     the silver thread of it clinging to her as she so clings to her lover.   in her bereavement she yearns,  in her yearning she scalds,   &   at the darkly twisting root of it all her wrath billows grievously  :  SHE IS NAUGHT BUT A GNASHING OF TEETH  /  A CAUTIONARY TALE OF HELLFIRE   &   SULFUR.   her lips draw apart as grandly as a curtain in a grin that is as light as it is wicked,  a glimpse of pink running along the backs of her teeth.  beneath her palm   &   the inexorable press of her greedy fingers,  violetta holds her audience captive.  she imparts no morsel of relief ;  she does not move her hand despite the provocation,  does not soothe the ache of desperation that so heavily saturates her lover.   it is just as well a detriment to herself   --  the negligible distance between them is enough to inebriate her   &   she stifles a shudder at this. 

❛   WHAT HAS SHE GIVEN YOU, HM?  WHAT SUCH EMPTY TALK HAS THAT PARASITE MADE WITH YOU?  THE WOMAN IS A FARCE  &  LIKE YARN SHE WILL SPIN YOU  &  SPIN YOU UNTIL SHE HAS FULLY UNRAVELED YOU.  ❜     violetta narrows the fissure between them to brush her lips along the stone-cut line of her love’s jaw,  the cruel lull of her whispers drifting like fog in the night.  the hand around natalia’s throat wanders downward,  lingering between the swell of her breasts,  while the hand precariously set between her thighs relaxes slightly,  tapering off if only to relinquish herself to the eager control of natalia’s own hand.  she is warm beneath the fabric,  beneath the sliding of her fingers,   &   to the betrayal of her ego,  violetta’s breath shakes as it blooms from her lungs.   pace quickening,  her mouth takes pilgrimage to her throat   &   she speaks into the slope where the elegant pillar of her neck meets her shoulder.    ❛   SHE WILL HOLLOW YOU OUT  &  MAKE DUST OF YOU YET.  ❜

❛   DO YOU LIKE HOW SHE TREATS YOU?  OR DOES SHE TREAT YOU AT ALL?  ❜     candlelight twines throughout the room,  stalking the shadows   &   tenderly alighting the woman who has become at once THE BANE   &   THE BALM of her existence.   later she would recall a time where such scenery with natalia at the heart of it would soften her,  but the notion of gentleness has long since become a burden.   burdened,  too,  by the unforgiving scent of spice   &   hearth,  violetta cannot bring herself to palate it any further.    ❛   YOU REEK OF HER.  ❜   her fingers curl abruptly   &   sharply against natalia,  the patch of fabric pressed against her hand slick with want,  before violetta wrenches her hand free from its confines.  she steps back,  the burning amber of her eyes searching for something unmentionable in the depths of natalia’s face,  before she turns to take her leave. 

“ PLEASE.  STAY WITH ME. ”   @viduamor​

IT IS NOT AT ALL PECULIAR FOR   silence to settle like dust in the wake of their affair.  the need for conversation eludes them   &   violetta,  for once,  lacks the greed to pursue it.  instead,  she finds herself pacified by natalia’s surprising acquiesce:  she had anticipated her to twine together some transparent excuse about where she needs to be or who imperatively demands her attention,  BUT INSTEAD SHE STAYS.  violetta holds her close,  bare legs woven together,   bodies held flush against one another,  natalia’s face tucked into the crook of her neck.   beset by how volatile the moment is,  how fickle the length of their closeness can be,  the arm draped around natalia’s shoulders tightens even more.  

slumber,  the devil that it is,  skulks on the periphery,  haunting her,  threatening to depose her from what already feels like a mirage   --   SOME TRICK OF THE MIND.  her stomach suddenly lurches furiously,  the dew of sweat beads at her brow line   &   at the hollow of her collarbone,   &   initially it feels as intimate as death,  as if some foreign malady has risen up violently within her system.  her breath catches in her throat;  she is stained by her confusion.  the ailment clings to her with such ferocity,  such targeted vitriol,  such  ----------------

[ PLEASE.  STAY WITH ME. ]

the quiet rustle of natalia’s voice reaches her distantly,  as if spoken through a series of chambers.  her mind swelters,  eyes fluttering shut,   &   soon she feels it:  warm droplets cascading down the flush column of her throat,  the delicate tremble of the body pressed against her own  --  all at once her mind grasps that she herself is not the one who is directly ailed.  

it is not the first time emotion has bled through the silk of natalia’s body   &   into her own;  she knows her lover as privately as she knows herself.   THE ONLY THING THEY DO NOT SHARE IS A SINGULAR BODY.     &   so she knows, too, that this is something entirely different.  the provocation is unusual  --  she senses the pollutive root of her grief   &   there is only one woman she can trace it back to.   oh,  how ardently she prays that natalia does not feel how savagely her wrath strikes her,  how swift-footed it is   &   unskillfully bridled.   YES,  SHE CAN IDENTIFY WITH AN ARTISAN’S EASE THE SCORCHED TRAIL THAT ZENYA ALONE LEAVES.  

it is a feat that violetta manages to draw natalia even closer,  the circle of their embrace becoming taut   &   possessive as she buries her face in her hair.  where she would have wept in company with her love,  she burns instead.  her silence becomes bloated   &   perpetuated only so that she may dull the tremor of fury that snakes its thorned tendrils around her heart for she would not have herself further afflict the fragile scene.   once a reasonable calmness unfurls itself,  when the tide of her emotions have smoothed themselves out along the shore,  she speaks.

❛   I WILL.  FOREVER.  I’LL STAY FOREVER.   ❜   it decisive,  it is earnest,  it is formed from steel  --  it is many things   &   above all it is something she should have said long ago.   ❛   SETTLE.  SETTLE,  MY SOUL.   ❜   her lips press to the crown of natalia’s head,  whispering tender delicacies against the soft arc of her hair until her words dissolve into repetition,  until it is nothing more than a quavering recitation of i’m so sorry,  i’m so sorry,  i’m so sorry.      

                  HOURS PASS WITH THE PACE OF TREACLE.    when natalia’s body slackens,   &   her breathing becomes rhythmic,   giving way to sleep,   the moon has already begun her trek across the nebulous night sky.   the remaining heat from the fireplace had waned long ago   &   soft light pools at the hardwood beneath the open window,  a lucid breeze rolling in from the white-capped mountains peppering the horizon.  violetta’s arms remain bound around natalia,  fingers distractedly running through her hair.  her own refusal to sleep had bordered upon such determined obstinacy that one would think it ordained by the gods.  

ittica appears at her window then,  the black streak of his feathers interrupting the pale decant of moonlight.  the bird preens,  his talons tapping away at the windowsill as he hops about anxiously.   she eyes her familiar,  hidden intricacies in the bowing of her head,  wordlessly bestowing him with a message to send.  he mirrors her movement,  cocking his dark head at her before he ruffles his feathers restlessly,  if not insolently.  if she did not already understand how inflammatory this maneuver this would be,  perhaps she would heed the crow’s apprehension,  but she knows precisely what she is getting herself into.   SHE WILL AGITATE THE SITUATION HOWEVER SHE SEES FIT.  the witch offers only a withering scowl in response before ittica tosses his head   &   reluctantly takes off into the night.  

SHE FINDS SLEEP WITHIN THE HOUR.  

VIDUAMOR.

WERE SHE ANYONE ELSE,      perhaps she would stiffen under the SHARP ATTENTION the older witch gives her  —-   in abundance,   UNASKED FOR.   natalia will not deny herself the excitement of falling beneath zenya’s definitive leer  [ IS IT WRONG ? INAPPROPRIATE ? WHAT DOES SHE HAVE TO DO WITH CARING ? ],   if only to know the meaning of the deepest intrigue.   but of course    –   witches are temperamental beings,   & even the most inviting interest can turn onto its belly in the swiftest moment.

❝    ONLY BRUSH SHOULDERS ?    ❞    her voice drips like honey,   THOUGH SHE IS BRISTLED AS A WOLF IN RIVAL’S TERRITORY.     it is a small blessing then that zenya has not followed her   —   yet the distance between them ignites such a buried discomfort that does not assure her that the other witch will still be there should she turn away.    ❝    she is living,   breathing,   as the rest & best of us.    ❞

❛   EXCELLENT.  EXCELLENT,  EXCELLENT.     may she remain in good standing so long as the will of the gods allow it.  ❜     honey for honey:  ashes for bone.  always, she makes a game of offering a glimpse of her intentions before guiding the conversation along a separate trajectory as if it is all of very little concern to her.  moonflushed,  she relishes in the ambiguity of it all.

EVENTUALLY,  SHE MOVES.   like a scythe,  the imperious stride of her legs perturb the interlacing of tall grass toward the water’s edge.  SHE SPLITS THE NIGHT DOWN ITS CENTER AS SHE WALKS:  every long-fingered shadow,  every green blade,  every flower so delicately positioned in the earth by the nymphs curves themselves about her as if she were their consummate nucleus.  she stops just short of her company, a hair’s breadth between them,   &   only then does she permit her eyes to wander.  all along the length of natalia does zenya’s gaze stretch,  insatiable.  she does not smile,  though such indulgent intrigue drapes her like a fine cloak.       ❛   &   YOU, NATALIA?  I TRUST YOU ARE WELL.  YOU LOOK IT.   ❜  

“  GOD I WANT YOU IN SOME PRIMAL, WILD WAY ANIMALS WANT EACH OTHER.    UNTAMED AND FULL OF TEETH.  ” @viduamor

I TERRIFY   :   @bloodattar

VIDUAMOR.

❝  YOU ARE INDEED PERSISTENT.  ❞      she extends the words as if they were a branch of goodwill,   NEVER MIND THE BITE SHE CAGES BEHIND HER PALM,   & the frost of suspicion on her breath.   these things,   she can stifle,  can tuck away between her lungs & pretend that they were never there.   instead her steps cut a path through the moonlit green as sharp as a blade,   coming to a stop hardly a handful of sighs from her present company.

❝    & where does your suspicion leave you,   I CAN ONLY WONDER.    ❞    natalia is careful in dancing away from the mention of her BYGONE BELOVED,    hardly willing to entertain such a web of interests.    ❝     I AM NOT A THING TO BE POSSESSED,   you must know.   but i suppose i could not blame you for following so close by.    ❞   her latter word is as long & smooth as an evening brook,   fading as her path curls around zenya & leads her closer to the edge of water not so far off.   ❝    i receive many propositions,   zenya   —   each of them i refuse.   though,   FOR YOU,   i could entertain just this one.    ❞

THE KEENNESS OF HER GROWS,    shadows sharpening their knives against the contours of her face.  there is a movement at her jaw,  the gesture too inhuman to be considered a grin:  her mouth splits like halved fruit to glimpse a set of unnervingly straight teeth.  her tongue glides along the stark white bone   &   she tilts her head to one side as if in deep reflection,  inspecting every word natalia speaks if only to identify a flaw,  some sort of crack in the ivory veneer.  

❛   I WILL ADMIT ,    there is not much to wonder about.  i figured i had my fun with our girl  --  it is only natural that i should want to brush shoulders with the FABLED COUNTERPART.  ❜  the wind howls in lieu of her laughter   &   she tracks natalia along her path like a hawk,  pinning her beneath her gaze.  SHE DOES NOT MOVE TO FOLLOW.  a shaded pillar in her field,  she moves nothing but her head,  the dark hair adorning her shoulders rustling with the motion.    ❛   HOW IS YOUR DAUGHTER?    ❜    

Stefany Alves

VIDUAMOR.

BIRDS FLY FROM THEIR TREES,     their shadows making shapes on the still - waters of the lake that marks the center of their limitless home.   VERNAL,  VIBRANT,   VITALITY SURROUNDS THEM,   makes its bed on the wet bank,   drinks from the earth’s cisterns    —-   just as they do,   just as they love to do,   together  [ IF THIS COULD LAST AN ETERNITY, HOW COULD THEY EVER WANT FOR ANYTHING ? ]

hair sticks to skin,   the blood - crimson muted to the color of crushed berries in its wetness    —-    but it is the only thing muted here,   WHERE HEARTS CANNOT DECIDE TO THUNDER AS QUICKLY AS HORSE’S HOOVES OR TO THRUM AS GENTLY AS HARP STRINGS.   they have found themselves in the between,   where love blossoms,   where passion digs its heels into the ground & makes its home.    natalia wonders thinks that not even the earth & the moon in their eternal dance to face one another could grasp what it means for her to love the one below her now.   HER LUNGS SWELL WITH THE THOUGHT,   & she exhales at the sight of her lover.

❝    THERE ARE SUNS HERE.   ❞    she knows these eyes so well,   yet she finds herself tracing her fingertips along violetta’s fluttering eyelids with such awe it is like she is seeing the sky for the very first time,   SWALLOWING HER WONDER WHOLE.    her fingers move along the hills of her face,   spreading across the valley of her cheek,    hooking at the cliff of her jaw,   strumming the length of her collarbone like string.    ❝    my love,   my beauty,    ❞    she begins this with a poetess’ grace,   as if the string of possessive endearments does not crumble into greed as her mouth descends on violetta’s.   ❝    mine,   mine,    ❞    ( ALL MINE, EVERY INCH - YOU MUST KNOW WHAT YOU ARE TO ME, WHAT MY HEART WOULD DO WITHOUT YOU. )    she speaks what she can against her lips,   marvels at the warmth of her breath,   relishes every bit of skin that yearns to touch against her own.   her toes dig into the wet earth,   lapped by the edge of water,   as one hand curls into the dark hair that spreads across the ground,   & the other snakes along violetta’s body   —-   even the mere thought of it clouds her mind,   the mere thought of her devours ever memory   —-   settling between the softness of her thighs.    natalia watches the way her mouth parts with such captivation her sight becomes dizzy with it,   imagining the way her teeth would bite into the softest of fruits,    & then imagining herself there instead.   ( WHAT A BLESSING IT WOULD BE, MY DARKEST SUN, TO GIVE MYSELF TO YOU EVEN MORE THAN I HAVE. )

❝    VIOLETTA  -    ❞   she consumes the length of her neck now with hungry kisses,   savoring the saccharine flesh more than even the sweetest honey.   when she feels the muscle there beneath her skin harden & soften with bliss,   arching with a bow’s elegance.   ❝    VIOLETTA  -   ❞   she whispers the name against her mouth,   drinking every gasp & endearment her lover gives in return as she settles back against the bank,   as natalia herself settles down against violetta’s body.    ❝    what have you done to me,   мое солнце ?   what have i done to you ?   MAY WE NEVER STOP.    ❞

  ⧗

HOW DEEPLY HER SKIN FLUSHES,     the heat of desire permeating every pore so feverishly that even the cool water that swells   &   sighs at her feet is but a pitiable salve.   violetta has long since designated this as one of natalia's specialties:  to take the pulp of her yearning between her fingers   &   make something real out of the metaphor.  

whatever suns may have found themselves strung in her eyes,  they become wan,  stuttering things when she thinks of the sun that is her lover.  every inch of her that is claimed by natalia's mouth feels as if it has been touched by pure light.  it is as if she is being pursued by errant sunbeam after errant sunbeam   &   with every caress she is drawn further into the holiest type of madness. 

violetta catches her kisses between exhales,  shuddered gasps unfurling from her lips   &   into natalia's mouth   &   she feels the way she drinks it up like wine of the old gods  --  like the finest nectar of a flower coaxed by the most tender of hands.  [  YOURS, YOURS,  SHE WHISPERS,  BECAUSE WHO COULD DENY IT?  ]    she summons her lover's name with the reverence of a prayer   &   her moon-body, the gentle crescent of it, bends into natalia's body as if distance is a detriment.   BETWEEN THE TWO OF THEM  --  IT IS.   soft flesh against soft flesh,  a sigh for a sigh;  there are few things in which they do not do in tandem.  when the tautness of her body relaxes,  when there is nothing more to be conveyed in the language of trembling breath   &   unbound whimpers,  violetta sinks into the earth’s bed beneath them,  gathering natalia into her arms.  

❛   if we are ever to stop,  i will surely die.   ❜    shivering intermittently,  her hand comes to press lightly against natalia's back.  deft fingers trace the topography of her body,  drawing lazy shapes down the rich flesh of her back,  along the smoothest of curves   &   halting just at the peak of the back of her thigh.     

❛   DO YOU RECALL HOW WE FIRST MET?   ❜    violetta asks,  bending her head to speak into the sodden velvet of natalia's hair.  something wistful within her stirs   &   she cannot help the way her smile bleeds into her voice.   her hand moves again to split between the apex of her thighs,  suggesting further movement yet never delivering.     ❛   no one had ever gotten that far without help.  YOU WERE DIFFERENT.   you were alone,  equipped with nothing save for your wit   &   your skill.   it gave me great excitement to see the particular trap that you had fallen prey to,  if only because i knew you would be able to get out of that one,  too.   ❜ 

❛   NATALIA.  MY MOST DIFFICULT AUDIENCE.   ❜     the wine of her voice is fathoms deep,  spun from strands of nebulous dark.  it is edged by cruelty,  each syllable running loose like wild beasts into the predatory night.  rarely is the high priestess seen alone,  perpetually flanked by an entourage of help,  BUT TONIGHT IS DIFFERENT.  tonight she is without escort,  standing beneath the swell of the moon in a field of green.  she is a stain against the backdrop like a pinprick of blood.    

❛   last we spoke,  i provided you with a proposition.  i have returned because i am persistent.  violetta advised me against it,  but between you   &   i,  i merely suspect she wants to keep you for herself.   ❜    the whisper curls like smoke,  unmistakable humor tinging the roots of it.  the dark cloth of her sleeves gathers at the hinge of her elbows,  muted moonlight bleeding through the translucent fabric.    ❛   ---------------     you know how those types are.  give them a bit of   ichor    &   they will believe the sun bends for them alone.   ❜    

@viduamor.    

THE DAY IS YOUNG  &  IN NO HURRY.    the pale sun casts its net across the lake’s surface,  chasing the shadows  &   making dull things bright.  agnia had napped alongside her mother on the grassy bank,  hypnotized beneath that coaxing sun before rising suddenly,  critical   &   perturbed by her own boredom  --  such is every child’s proclivity.   

so now she wades through the shallows,  one small hand latched around her mother’s fingers while the other hand splits the water’s light-dappled surface.  quick to learn,  she had consumed the code   &   teachings of witchcraft with a starved eagerness.   she had learned by the tangle of bramble   &   the pith of the moon,   &   just as she had been conjured from the froth of water,  her talents had naturally inclined themselves toward the particular element as well.  she will soon know how to cleave salt from the waves   &   spin whirlpools with the flick of her wrist.  only half-bloomed as a witch,  she has never stung herself on the thorn of rotten spellwork;  she has never tasted the spoilt fruit of bad magic.  to her,  the world is bright   &   possessing myriad curiosities,   &   she can bend it all at her fingertips.  

agnia releases her mother’s hand   &   the small, pink bow of her mouth wilts downward,  fair brows knitting together.  she watches the water,  tilting her head toward one side   &   then the other,  before she thrusts her hands beneath the surface.  as quickly as she had reached into the water does she yank a fish from its depths,  the silvery scales glinting in the sunlight.  it thrashes about wildly in her hands,  but when she frowns at it,  her pale blue eyes catching the coal black eye on the side of its head,  the thrashing subsides.   when she speaks,  there is the sweetly imperative press of excitement in her voice.        «     A FISH,  MAMA.    »

@viduamor.

OLD & ANCIENT, BLOOD & CRUOR, TRIED & TRUE.

Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019) dir. Céline Sciamma