6/2/2025, 8:45 PM
the broken-crowned stag did not stir.
he watched her through the veil of fog, as if through smoke rising from some ancient pyre. golden she was, coiled in silk and disdain, but it did not move him. the world had once bowed to others like her— he had watched it. and he had watched it end.
he turned back to the bark he'd carved, rubbing slow and seething. his musk bled into the marrow of the tree. a warning. a monument. a name written in scent instead of song.
he watched her through the veil of fog, as if through smoke rising from some ancient pyre. golden she was, coiled in silk and disdain, but it did not move him. the world had once bowed to others like her— he had watched it. and he had watched it end.
good,soffinas rumbled, voice like velvet dragged through stone.
the work begins.
he turned back to the bark he'd carved, rubbing slow and seething. his musk bled into the marrow of the tree. a warning. a monument. a name written in scent instead of song.
but you’ll eat,he murmured over his shoulder, not cruel but certain.
even the proud chew, when they wish to live.