Sweven

Betrothal
Such strangeness to be betrothed to a stranger. This union feels useless. Laughter erupts from my knotted gut. Walk out. Grin at the gathering. They glare back, strangers wrapped in Sunday best. My promised pleas for return. I run. Escape harder for the drama of it all. Find more feeling under wild skies and winding dirt roads.

Kin
Impatiently we await the arrival of all kin. Our golden seats never truly fill. One comes. One goes. We are never all there. We are never collected. We never commence.