she was half human..
half universe.
The moon slowly rises, and with it, as always, the stormsinger’s heart begins to swell. High above them, Calligo paints their heavens in glimmers of silver like pearls in a stormy sea. Their constellations burn and flicker and shine brightest amidst the shadows that grow; the same shadows that dance across the mirror of the lake at her feet. But it is those stars that catch her eyes, those pools of blue flames that gaze at their brilliance. For in the gathering dark, her goddess has blessed her with stardust — the silver gauze has all but fallen from the skies above. Silver clings to her, dusting her in shimmer.
And besides this woman, her statement had never been more true. For truly there was nothing more beautiful than her kingdom’s stars above.
I have never had need to fear the night; I have always been one with it.
She does not linger on the questions that flash across her like comets; but instead, Aislinn can only smile. Although she has yet to meet the woman beside her, to know her story, the gypsy woman has already found a measure of familiarity in her. They are alike, and she cannot deny it. The stormsinger has been gifted with the night goddess’ blessings; crafted and sewn from her shadows and smoke and storms. And as her gaze blinks sidelong to the stranger at her side, her orbs torn from the stars, Aislinn can see that she that they have been made of the same cloth. The steel blue of her frame is the wash of night fall and the moon’s precious glow.
Their inky darkness is a near match, it would seem.
A soft breeze shakes free the wilds of her mane, like liquid starlight playing with invisible fingers that tangle in the wind. The coins wrapped around her throat jingle, tinkling in their song. Her lip curls, as her lashes fall upon her cheeks, blue orbs lazily watching the lake’s waters drink in the moonlight that dances across the waves. ”There are not many who would find the night so welcoming,” she adds, ”but the moon does show the true beauty of the dark.”
I am Jezanna.
Her own name toys with her lips, unspoken, a whisper not nearly breathed to wholeness, as her ears flicker to her back. Footfalls, familiar footfalls, catch and chime on this night. They are the same that she had heard on the battlefield, the same on the stones of their capital city. The stormsinger only turns the crown of her head, gaze flaring to welcome Rostislav in their gathering under the stars. ”Rostislav, welcome, my friend,” she grins, shifting and tucking her wings close to her frame. It would seem Calligo is finding all of her children tonight.
She does not immediately find Damaris, however, she can only imagine she is close by. Where one was, the other would follow. For now, Aislinn turns towards the ethereal woman — Jezanna — once more. The stardust that clings to her is a breathing star map upon her skin, shifting and twinkling with the heavens above them. For once, she was all grace and finery, where instead she was havoc and chaos and hurricanes born from song on her lips.
Not this night, however. Tonight, she was simple. A dreamer, that is all.
”I am Aislinn,” she offers. ”Welcome to the Kingdom of Stars and Smoke.”
@jezanna @rostislav ♡
And besides this woman, her statement had never been more true. For truly there was nothing more beautiful than her kingdom’s stars above.
I have never had need to fear the night; I have always been one with it.
She does not linger on the questions that flash across her like comets; but instead, Aislinn can only smile. Although she has yet to meet the woman beside her, to know her story, the gypsy woman has already found a measure of familiarity in her. They are alike, and she cannot deny it. The stormsinger has been gifted with the night goddess’ blessings; crafted and sewn from her shadows and smoke and storms. And as her gaze blinks sidelong to the stranger at her side, her orbs torn from the stars, Aislinn can see that she that they have been made of the same cloth. The steel blue of her frame is the wash of night fall and the moon’s precious glow.
Their inky darkness is a near match, it would seem.
A soft breeze shakes free the wilds of her mane, like liquid starlight playing with invisible fingers that tangle in the wind. The coins wrapped around her throat jingle, tinkling in their song. Her lip curls, as her lashes fall upon her cheeks, blue orbs lazily watching the lake’s waters drink in the moonlight that dances across the waves. ”There are not many who would find the night so welcoming,” she adds, ”but the moon does show the true beauty of the dark.”
I am Jezanna.
Her own name toys with her lips, unspoken, a whisper not nearly breathed to wholeness, as her ears flicker to her back. Footfalls, familiar footfalls, catch and chime on this night. They are the same that she had heard on the battlefield, the same on the stones of their capital city. The stormsinger only turns the crown of her head, gaze flaring to welcome Rostislav in their gathering under the stars. ”Rostislav, welcome, my friend,” she grins, shifting and tucking her wings close to her frame. It would seem Calligo is finding all of her children tonight.
She does not immediately find Damaris, however, she can only imagine she is close by. Where one was, the other would follow. For now, Aislinn turns towards the ethereal woman — Jezanna — once more. The stardust that clings to her is a breathing star map upon her skin, shifting and twinkling with the heavens above them. For once, she was all grace and finery, where instead she was havoc and chaos and hurricanes born from song on her lips.
Not this night, however. Tonight, she was simple. A dreamer, that is all.
”I am Aislinn,” she offers. ”Welcome to the Kingdom of Stars and Smoke.”
@jezanna @rostislav ♡
