Chapter Text
Stay your hand.
No, I will not repeat my word.
Stay your hand, built of ash and bones.
You will not harm, hair nor hide,
of our companion,
Or you I shall blind.
Perhaps you will understand better, then,
with interpretative dance,
or unique smells.
The insistent clicks rising from my throat,
building to a crescendo of
"No, you shall not."
You will continue? Despite it all?
Well then I shall too, and we see who falls.
Thorax buzzing and humming in anger,
usually profess oncoming death,
or danger.
You I will not shelter anymore.
You tipped the scales.
You have got to go.
Although I am an auspistice,
made to balance your feud,
or hate,
or even your constant quadrant bash,
I have to stand where it is enough.
You two were never made for peace,
ever fighting,
at each other throat on every other matter,
caring not if its trifle or heavy on the platter.
But it has to stop where it is, my beloved,
my ashen sweet,
rough as smoke and as heavy on the tongue.
Should I phrase myself better?
Perhaps be more direct?
You will not lay another finger on her,
or your head is forfeit.