There is a mystery that glimmers in this boy’s eyes and hides behind his smile. She can hear the song of secrets upon those lips even when she has torn her gaze from his face – too rugged, too alluring. Florentine cannot begin to know the mysteries that lie behind those eternal eyes, nor the secrets upon his tongue. Yet the girl suspects something.
Her eyelids grow heavy, gaze narrowing as she surveys this antlered boy and his easy manner. The dusk girl wonders what put that odd glimmer in his eye and curled his lips so. She still wonders as she walks beside him, an ear attuned to his every move.
From the corner of her eye she looks again to his tattered antlers and the blood that glows ruby red. He fills her with scents of metal and flowers and magic. Her breath stutters and all at once she is keen, keen to know where he came from and what old magic it is that lingers upon his skin.
“You have not had your antlers long?” Florentine breathes and her question hides so many more. They pile upon her tongue and her lips begin to tingle for want of asking. Her fly-away heart thrums for the effort of not asking them all. It is a surprise then, when the only other thing that passes her lips is a light admonishment, “Well you aren’t doing a very good job of looking after them if they are already falling off…”
She turns from him, to lead onwards, to head home. But oh her thoughts are only with him, her skin thrumming with the need for this boy’s mysteries. He holds her attention and sends electric ripples down her slender spine. Lysander sets her skin to itch with the desire to turn back to him. Yet Florentine steps onward, driving each slender limb before the other. She knows she is a creature of fancy and this boy is so dangerously fanciful.
Do you find yourself in trouble often? Her lips curl into a guilty smile, her eyes flaring and her head nodding sagely. “I am afraid I do. I get too distracted with adventures and…” She pauses her eyes flitting over him, “…things.” A steadying breath and another stolen glance at the mystery boy she cannot fathom. “I think queens are supposed to be more focused than I am.” Her voice lowers conspiratorially, “I am not a very good one.”
A flick of her head and her thick fringe of tumbling petals falls like a veil. Beneath its protection she continues to slyly watch this curious boy and his wonderful, magical scents.
His last comment banishes her final thoughts of Terrastella. His words bring her up short and she spins to him with eyes narrowed. Her nose lifts to better peer at him from beneath her fringe. “Home… You mean Dusk…” She slowly affirms without question, for how could he mean anywhere else? But her skin begins to thrum anew, her heart fluttering, reaching for the dagger that lies outside her chest. There is a knowing no reason can fathom. Such knowing is as deep as the sea and Florentine is the tide rolling in towards the boy.
The twilight girl stands before this mystery boy. She is close, close enough to see the black of his eyelashes, the flecks of embers within his eyes, she studies every hair upon his face and the curl of his lips.
Flora looks for any part of him she knows, but there is nothing, nothing but old, wonderful magic that clings to his skin like a mist. She knows this boy from nowhere. And yet, there is a siren’s call within her. Her soul is full, for his company is too easy, his smile too warming. “Do you know me?” She asks softly, warily, and so very, very keenly.
@Lysander - A novella!
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
