At War With Myself (Patreon)

I hearken to the echoes of the days of yore, When fire and the heavy steel were lords of war. The dragon’s ancient blood, a lineage of flint, Awakens in a violet, obsidian glint. Where ends the maiden's arm? Where doth the blade begin? We are but one beneath the purple sulfur's skin. A crimson, savage dance, a wildly woven mesh, A thrumming, dark desire for the yielding flesh.

Alas, I wander as a solitary spark, A glowing ember where the world hath grown so dark; Upon a quiet earth that long hath ceased to burn, I strive to walk the paths of peace at every turn. I see the mighty kingdoms rise and gently fall, Yet find no steadfast root nor haven in them all. An outcast of the ancient ash, condemned to roam, In this soft age of men, the blade can find no home.

Yet, what strange siege is this that beats against my breast? A sudden, nameless war that puts me to the test. It is no flame of wrath, nor chill of lonely pride, But something wondrous warm that I can scarcely hide. For thou hast built a hearth of gentle, patient stone, Wherein this restless ember burns no more alone. Though I may never blaze with ruin as before, Thy tender, steady fire draws the people to thy door. Against this sweet defeat, I hold no shield or dart; The fiercest war I fight is now within my heart.

Hewo~ Here's some art of Obsidian Glint (Thara Vaelra), the dragon-descended maiden from my "Woodheart Cafe" project. I hope you like it! úwú)b

Which of the maids holds thy favor thus far? Or of whom dost thou seek further knowledge?