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Track Three: Reflecting Light, Sam Phillips
𝕿HERE WAS a sunset colored bird buried in blankets, with feathers like golden flames licking at a sea, melting her golden skin into serrated talons that could make a muse out of murder. Her human body dissolved into the fiery wings of the sun's favorite daughter and entrapped her psyche in an hourglass shape of the fatal inferno dripping off her wings. Crystalized wildfire tears laying in the arc underneath her eyes sat waiting, just as the flames lying underneath her skin in a bound capsule of chaos sat, waiting. Waiting for the moment when it would become unbounded, the moment when Circe was swallowed whole by the curse running through her veins. Unable to do a thing. She could dig her hands in, pull up blood like sprouts and watch it sizzle on the floor in front of her: dissecting it and cleansing it bottle by bottle before pouring it all back in. But nothing would change, because its not the blood thats cursed: It's her.
Everything was going smoothly only moments before. Her body melted into the linen sheets beneath her and her mind finally at peace inside her ever noisy head. That was at least, until her obscure sleeping position caught up to her as the awkward pose her neck was laying at shot the message up to her brain. She cracked an eye open and let out a silent groan of pain, she had definitely aggravated a muscle. Cursing the flimsy camping mattresses they were on, she flipped herself the right way around and met her pillow with a sigh, feeling just as tired as she was an hour earlier. But unfortunately, her brain did not seem to understand the same feeling her body did and as she laid there, all that was on her mind was the fact that she was not sleeping, and how tired she would be the next morning. She pushed her slightly sweaty hands to her head and dragged them down her face in exasperation, sighing again and taking a deep inhale. Circe flipped over yet again. Almost reaching the four-hundredth sheep, she finally began to drift off and ease her mind into a relaxed state yet again. But as soon as she had almost conquered her battle with lucidity, she was awoken with a shake, lighting a flame of annoyance as she groaned and shoved a pillow in the direction of the shake, but as the shaking continued her annoyance grew till it was festering the beginnings to a smoldering rage, she felt herself gritting her teeth in annoyance one moment, and slipping into fire and out of her body in the next.
Feeling her nature loosen inside her, Circe pushed it back in before turning to face her attacker: who happened to be none other than her frantic cousin, cursing and fumbling for a wand as if it could fix her little cousin's current state. Circe watched her with sharp claret bird eyes and silently seethed at Dora. It was a few moments before Circe had fully woken up and registered that there was probably a reason why she had been awoken. She bobbed her head around, sharpened eyes scanning her surroundings for any signs of danger. She immediately alerted her senses upon hearing muffled shrieks and screams coming from the outside of the tent.
