Bessa

Stains Don't Come Out

The Singer of the Moon keeps eating his toast with a light spread of jam over the top.

A crunch down, some crumbs drop by his plate.

The crow lover folders her hands on the table.

Both sets of eyes watch without interrupting my vision of what I want on my body.

"I want the head right here." Grabbing a chunk of my inner thigh over the material of Silk.

Thight, thin lips press against the other.

He swallows his toast down. Morvared smiles to herself.

"What does our Alpha say about this?" He's sweeping up the crumbs that have fallen around his plate.

"It's my right. My kill...it's my right." Looking at both of them, challenging them to say something, anything.

"It is your right to do this, but is it right?" The Singer of the Moon tilts his head, waiting for my reply.

"To me it's right." The words fall when they come out of my mouth.

"If it's so right, then why does it look like you might cry?" The Singer of the Moon stands with his plate, clearing Morvared's as well. She finishes her cup of tea, handing it to him.

"It's my right. I made the kill; I want my trophy." Words bite out into the small space he calls home.

Mortar with pestle stains of different colors litter the rest of the table they are sitting at.

"This doesn't wash off when you want it to go away. You will hold that trophy forever on your skin." His reply back has my spine stiffen.

"I never want it to go away." Clasping my hands together.

"I've seen a lot of things, Luna Bessa. You will regret this one day. Right now it's all you see. All you can think that will make you feel better but in the end, it will only make you feel sadder. You're going to have to look at that head every day. Do you want to look at her every day?"

The ribs of my chest pull in, protecting my heart.

"Yes. I want to see her. I want to see what I destroyed." Vengeance leaks from a tight voice.

"In the end, the only thing you'll see is what's destroying you. Not what you destroyed." The Healer nods her head in agreement with him.

"Get out," words to the Healer. Blue eyes pierce into mine before she looks away.

A crow caws behind the glass of the window. The Healer's hair is the same color as the bird that follows her.

"Why haven't you killed this Healer yet. Burn her for her sacrilege to our Moon?" Accusing eyes looking towards the Singer of the Moon.

He smiles.

"Morvared is misguided. It's dangerous to kill them; they would become Marytrs to their beliefs." Morvared stands up. A sharp smile spreads wide on her face.

"My friend, it's you who is misguided." The Healer's tone threatens violence in the calmest of ways.

"Morvared. The Moon can't be destroyed. She is our Moon. Nothing can threaten her place."

"The Moon was never created to lead forever. She's become greedy on her power. She's become corrupt to maintain her power. She's become evil." Morvared takes a wide leg stance in front of us.

"Her teachings are made up lies she wants us to believe, so she always maintains her birthright." There is a swaying passion with the way Morvared speaks.