i'd rather be spitting blood,
For now.
The words cut through him like ice, a threat or a promise, a warning.
He took all her words in silence, all her accusations like sandpaper as she rubbed on an already raw temper. True, he was a King. The choice of his people had made him that — but he was still just a man, as capable of making mistakes as any other being in this gods-damned world. He'd known she was suffering for his choice, had known but gods be damned he had made that choice to ease her heartbreak. He had stood within the Temple trembling to take her, to kiss the storm humming over her wings and to provide everything she so desperately wanted from him — but he hadn't.
For her sake, for Florentines.
He'd given himself one kiss.
He hadn't built a life with her, had not professed his undying love or took her hand and promised her the world. He had tried to follow what advice Iscariot would have given him — kind, understanding Iscariot, the man whom had taken in a hard-eyed orphan boy without question. Save her the pain, Reich, he would have said, You have to tell her before things get out of hand.
He'd been damned all the same.
Nobodies heart is as fickle as yours, said the girl who was already in love with another man, said the Queen who posed desirous looks at an old friend. They were right, of course. He had fallen for Aislinn after one mesmerising evening, had not been able to stop thinking about her as if she were a brand upon his soul — even now there was a part of him that could see a future of storm and song, star and shadow. He loved too freely, stranded amongst too many emotions and too few boundaries.
Florentine, too, he had fallen for even while he was lost amongst the storms and stars of his warrior girl. There was a difference between he and Aislinn, though. She was straight and true, and he as crooked as they came. With Florentine, their paths had been so labyrinthian and twisted that he'd felt a kinship — they both loved fiercely, leaping into every emotion with abandon. Their love had been doomed from it's very beginning, no doubt.
Aislinn stepped closer, and Reichenbach straightened slightly, silver eyes bright amongst their thicket of black lashes. She is swallowed by shadows, turned from argent star to midnight murderer, a coldness emanating from her that had not been there before. If she had not been raised so righteous, she would have made an excellent Crow — but perhaps that was why he needed her, that difference between them keeping his toes above the darkness.
"What would you have me do, Aislinn? Tell me. If you loved another, would you remain with your chosen? Or would you tell them of your traitorous heart and release them before further harm comes to them? Or do you presume to tell me how I should love, and who? Are you now the judge of sinners and heartbreak, the deity that decides atonement?"
He cast the words at her without any real venom, looking away in frustration at the fire. Did she think he was evil? Did Aislinn truly lay blame only to him and no other? He hadn't realised her hatred of him ran so deep. Reichenbach began to feel an inkling of the hurt his Caligo had felt, when her family had turned their backs upon her.
Because for an orphan boy with little concern for titles, Reichenbach held his Court as his family — and Aislinn was an integral part of that family.
@Aislinn ugh sorry this is awful I didn't know where to go with it and it just kind of flopped at the end, sorry lovely!
The words cut through him like ice, a threat or a promise, a warning.
He took all her words in silence, all her accusations like sandpaper as she rubbed on an already raw temper. True, he was a King. The choice of his people had made him that — but he was still just a man, as capable of making mistakes as any other being in this gods-damned world. He'd known she was suffering for his choice, had known but gods be damned he had made that choice to ease her heartbreak. He had stood within the Temple trembling to take her, to kiss the storm humming over her wings and to provide everything she so desperately wanted from him — but he hadn't.
For her sake, for Florentines.
He'd given himself one kiss.
He hadn't built a life with her, had not professed his undying love or took her hand and promised her the world. He had tried to follow what advice Iscariot would have given him — kind, understanding Iscariot, the man whom had taken in a hard-eyed orphan boy without question. Save her the pain, Reich, he would have said, You have to tell her before things get out of hand.
He'd been damned all the same.
Nobodies heart is as fickle as yours, said the girl who was already in love with another man, said the Queen who posed desirous looks at an old friend. They were right, of course. He had fallen for Aislinn after one mesmerising evening, had not been able to stop thinking about her as if she were a brand upon his soul — even now there was a part of him that could see a future of storm and song, star and shadow. He loved too freely, stranded amongst too many emotions and too few boundaries.
Florentine, too, he had fallen for even while he was lost amongst the storms and stars of his warrior girl. There was a difference between he and Aislinn, though. She was straight and true, and he as crooked as they came. With Florentine, their paths had been so labyrinthian and twisted that he'd felt a kinship — they both loved fiercely, leaping into every emotion with abandon. Their love had been doomed from it's very beginning, no doubt.
Aislinn stepped closer, and Reichenbach straightened slightly, silver eyes bright amongst their thicket of black lashes. She is swallowed by shadows, turned from argent star to midnight murderer, a coldness emanating from her that had not been there before. If she had not been raised so righteous, she would have made an excellent Crow — but perhaps that was why he needed her, that difference between them keeping his toes above the darkness.
"What would you have me do, Aislinn? Tell me. If you loved another, would you remain with your chosen? Or would you tell them of your traitorous heart and release them before further harm comes to them? Or do you presume to tell me how I should love, and who? Are you now the judge of sinners and heartbreak, the deity that decides atonement?"
He cast the words at her without any real venom, looking away in frustration at the fire. Did she think he was evil? Did Aislinn truly lay blame only to him and no other? He hadn't realised her hatred of him ran so deep. Reichenbach began to feel an inkling of the hurt his Caligo had felt, when her family had turned their backs upon her.
Because for an orphan boy with little concern for titles, Reichenbach held his Court as his family — and Aislinn was an integral part of that family.
@Aislinn ugh sorry this is awful I didn't know where to go with it and it just kind of flopped at the end, sorry lovely!
