[i]Do you want her?[/i]

She is Princess Heron. One unbreakable shield against the darkness. The light of determination. The wave crashing against the walls of evil until they are worn away. She is perfect knowledge and perfect action, a hand slipping into a hand and a kiss slipping against a cheek during the stun frame. She has seen all your brightest moments - the golden bow lifted up through the mud, the unflinching nobility as your arm came apart in the jaws of the world serpent, the ceremony and cathedral build in your and her honour.

Here she is. And she is asking -

[i]Do you want me?[/i]

Your own face against yours. Your own lips against yours. Your own hair, undone from its intricate braids and falling down in wild sheets. A monster caged within the shape of you, that wicked heart beating against the shape of your breasts from the inside, smiling your smile in a way you'd never allow yourself. Is that your tongue inside her mouth, still? Or is it forked, sharp and [i]dangerously [/i]long?

You have caged her so many times, do you still -

[i]Do you want at all?[/i]

She pulls you out into the dance. You know the steps. You know the tricks. You know to beware the tail and how easily and accidentally it can wind up exploring your hips and thighs. All the power, all the glory, all the fruits of civilization leading up to this - a tamed demon, following your lead, predictable even in her wickedness. Another circle, falling into your own arms and feeling green fingernails against your cheek and lips.

Is it enough to move the mountain, or is it -

[i]Do you want nothing?[/i]

Because she would understand.

The desire to sleep. To sit down away from the noise and chaos of this world. Away from the steps of this dance - or the steps of this other dance, or the steps of the freestyle dance which would have just as many hidden rules as the formal sweep and flow, and don't all dances descend from the same ideal of energy, of power expressed, of structures built and communication and creation? There is not a dance you could dance that would make the lights dimmer and rest your soul. You've been dancing for a thousand years and your copy is still here, held in your arms, as strong and fragile as she was the first time you slew her.

Do you want to -

[i]How bad do you want it?[/i]

- rest?

[Entice: 3!]