Poseidon’s sharp bite causes temporary paralysis, an immortal implant upon flesh from claiming fangs. It furfills and takes; sea water for breath and heavy foam as words. Clear balance of pain and pleading pleasure. You will ache and long for far more than Poseidon will ever deem you worthy of. Bitter, layered in a salty yet sophisticated self-importance.
Though the beginning effects wear off, the after-affect won’t in the long run. Once the bite locks on your neckline, its eternal memory never fades away. It’s a promise stuck to you, chained. Sunk deep like an archor, a silent declaration, permanent weight on the ocean floor where it belongs.
The pain lingers thoughtfully like a ghost, an infectious wasp sting on your pulse, the possessive mark of the sea god is as unforgettable as the ocean itself. Whispering against mortal ears, striking foolish eyes.
discommunicator