S
trange, how long had it been since he had allowed himself to be so gentle. So genuine, yet so very painfully tentative — for how could anything shattered not be? after it's initial break, he's desperate to keep the pieces shimmering and on the fragile strings laced around his ribs and their gilded thorns. Yet, all it took was a man who wore shadows and darkness so well, in a room filled with tea smoke and incense, where the fire bathed them in it's warmth and reflected in their eyes. A key in a lock that he hadn't known existed. Strange. But the strangeness was not as bad as he'd thought, the searing brand he had anticipated is far from a kiss of blistering fire on his charred bones. Instead it is a sparkle in silver eyes, a wicked grin and a baritone like velvet against his skin.
Gods, protect him.
Isorath responded with a smile that mirrored the smokeyness of his prior comment, as Reichenbach repeated his words back to him. More and more, it's hard to ignore how long it'd been since his bones had felt so light, since when had teasing words in a hundred different lilts passed his lips so effortlessly? How easy it is to sink beneath the blanket of stars and the smoulder, to indulge in a moment that could quickly become addictive. Long lashes flicked in the Sovereigns direction as a look of mock innocence glittered in them, flourished with the silver strands of hair which curled around him in falling waves. A waterfall of starlight and moondust. Against the melodic song of his voice and the smile which remained fixed upon his pale lips, it hardly looked genuine.
"You will just have to wait and see. Telling you wouldn't be nearly half as fun."
He paused, if only to let the Sovereign have a moment to glance at him, a dangerous gaze but it one that he finds himself preening beneath it. Isorath is a vain man, common knowledge he's sure of by now, to have mares and stallions turn his way with a balm as much as earning another perfect piece of jewelry to his collection. Yet, there is an undeniable hint of intoxication that came with drawing the gaze of such a powerful man. "You won't find them by looking either." Isorath added slyly after a moment, once more his head tilted, the gold and jewels shimmered as they moved effortlessly with the motion.
So far, Denocte had been kind. It's mystery enchanting, it's people enthralling. He could not rule out that perhaps some would keep their terrastellan visitor from seeing the less than exhilerating faces and masks Calligo's children could often wear. Or, more than likely, Isorath had unintentionally missed vital points that could of wounded the flawless impression it had left, wrapped in his stone tower and ancient tomes. Here, Denocte was as beautiful as the lake beneath the stars, not a blemish or a ripple as far as the eye could see.
We'd want you to stay permanently.
One could anticipate, or muse on such words, but to hear them was always a surprise. To his credit, his smile did not falter, and neither did the glimmer in his lavender pools. Isorath is no fool, and he's not blind to the implications. It is a wicked thing, to poach a member of another Court. To steal them away and seduce them with the wonders they had come to love. It happened, of course. It always happened. For one reason or another, for love, for opportunity, for adventure or simply because. The heart and mind were fickle, as ever changing as the wind and the sea. "I would not mind that so much," he responded softly, his gaze fixed on his tea for a moment and then returned them back to the molten hues of silver, "I do rather like the view, a little too much and the people — and it would be so very unfortunate to let you loose in the library without an eye to watch what you're doing."
It was an acceptance, or confirmation that he would stay given the chance. Carefully wrapped with a wistful voice, and just a touch of humor at Reichenbach's expense.
Only the most naive would of missed the way the air changed at four simple words. Isorath is back to the sly smile, the too innocent gaze that sat out of place yet so perfectly on his lightly scaled features. A dangerous game dressed as a humored comment. An ivory piece carefully placed on the board, whether or not the players were aware.
There just might have been a onyx piece that met it, perhaps, some hopeful sliver whispered.
"Perfect." It's a pleased hum, excited and thrilled all at once. A songbird's summer song at dusk. "I must admit, haven't seen them fully." He confessed nonchalantly, a crime most definitely. It had been a fleeting pass through, hardly befitting such a wondrous place.
@Reichenbach — <3
