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[AW] (coronation) my half-lit desire - Printable Version

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(coronation) my half-lit desire - Isolt - 12-27-2020



death cannot harm me -
it is life which is full of risk and malignity.


My sister was born first. I — I was too enraged I think, too angry at being told I must do anything, be anything but a root growing tangled together with my twin. But I could not bear to be alone when my sister left the womb.

So I followed her.

I think now that I will always be following her.

I
solt waits in the shadow of a wall overgrow with wisteria, watching the flowers deepen into ever-darker shades of violet.

On the other side there is a ballroom, and in that ballroom are horses dancing like they are shards of moonlight caught in the wind instead of mortals. When she tilts her head she can hear the ghost-music whispering in the throats of a thousand white sparrows beating their wings in the rafters.

Her heart feels like a note of that song they are weaving, splintered off and forgotten behind when the rest of the instruments lift into the crescendo. And perhaps she is beginning to learn how her sister feels, how sorrow lays down to root like a rose in her liver, thorns tearing apart her insides. Perhaps now Isolt is learning she always knew how to be soft, and only now does she find it in herself to want to be.

She should be inside, she knows. She should be following along in her sister’s shadow like a sword ready to carve through the hearts of anyone who dared dance too near to her. She knows she should be trying to get to her hunger, and her rage, and the pieces of herself that fit into her sister’s sorrow like a key to a lock. She should press their horns together and whisper to her of all the ways the world will bow at her feet (of all the ways she will make sure of it, because Danaë is the one thing in this world that she would do anything for.)

There are a million things she should do as a sister, a twin, a unicorn who is only half of her own soul.

Instead she blinks, and watches the first petal free itself from the wisteria wall with a sigh. It falls like a black tear to her feet (and she knows it is the only tear she will cry, in the only way she knows how to.)

When she pulls away it feels like she is cutting arcane patterns into her heart with the blade of her own tail, like she is carving away the bits of sorrow that are trying to grow in the loam of her. Her heart flutters at the taste of it, at the way the rot blooming in flower-patterns down her throat is not enough (is never enough) to sate the hunger coiled in her belly. The hunger only licks its teeth and growls, and begs her to reach for more and more of the petals (and more and more and more—) until all the wall comes crashing down.

She almost does. Isolt almost presses her horn to the wall like a spear thrust into the belly of a boar, just to see the way the petals would bleed black and heavy down her brow.

But tonight she is more sorrow than rage, and not even a belly-full of wisteria can stop the aching that runs deep enough to devour her whole.

So she blinks, and another black-petal-tear falls. And she tilts her head back to listen to the music that is bleeding through the walls like ghost notes.

« r » | @any



RE: (coronation) my half-lit desire - Torielle - 12-27-2020








have been here for nearly a full year now, in this land that is slowly becoming familiar, a comfort. Though my first several encounters when Gaia birthed me - or whatever it is that happened, I’ve still yet to determine that- were strange and sometimes unsettling, I have come to accept that this is now home. I have spent much of the passing seasons in near isolation, the winter chill melting into spring, her blooms brightening to the summer sun. But I cannot stay this way forever, and while my heart may still sit heavy in my breast with the unknowing of why I was brought here, the loneliness is what will surely kill me. The remedy to loneliness is simple, and if this is to be my home, I must become part of it and I think now I am ready to do so. 

I had heard whispers through the trees that the head of the Delumine’s Dawn Court was changing, and that tonight there was a celebration for the new figure to take her place upon that seat. Though none of the names were familiar to me, knowing of this significance it seemed only fitting that I make my transition to Novus complete by attending. After all, it was an open celebration, and what better place to immerse myself in the people and become one with my new home? So I had made my way across the Viride, my unofficial haunting grounds, and across the vast river that separated me from the seat of power in Delumine. Though it has been goddess knows how many years since I had been in any sort of city- and I’ve never liked them to be clear; though my tribe has been known as traveling artisans I could never leave their walls soon enough (the temple was another matter altogether). Still, I had found the city to be full of light and laughter, a brightness that I didn’t realize I was unprepared for until it was all around me. Though it took me some time to orient myself and make my way towards the coronation, my spirits began to lift. Perhaps I had chosen the right night. My tribe has always indulged in revelry, and while the wisdom of the Sages spoke against such “indecent frivolity” I had always partaken of my love for music and dance in secret. I found no better way to speak of love than the languages that transcended all others. 

As I came to view the coronation hall, I was overwhelmed by its beauty. And how close to home it really seemed. A thorn pierced my heart with an ice cold hand, squeezing hard the life from me and the breath from my lungs. I nearly faltered in my stride, but caught myself to merely a slow wander. These halls were sprawling, decorated with various creeping life at the touch of a master. I could weep at the masterpiece before me, and so I did, letting but a few silent tears fall down my cheeks as I wandered the corridors, unsure of where I was going exactly, but with no intense desire to seek out the proper dance floor. I had grown accustomed to dancing in private, and so that is what I did, moving from room to room, listening to the ghosts of music as they drifted through the space. I caught myself wishing that I had bangles around my ankles like the dancers of my tribe, as the sound of silver bells were sorely missing when I raised my limbs and wove invisible patterns along the floor. I flicked my tail in time with the rhythm of the music that drifted to me, the sound of the coins satiating my desire for now. The practiced movement began to lift my spirits once more and I let go of the hurt and with a heavy breath lost myself to the music. Without thought or care I danced, tossing my tiara and creating a cascade of blue as my veil floated around me, my decorated antlers singing praises of the melody that found its way into my heart. 

For the first time since I had made my way through the void to be here, I felt as if I were home. I felt weightless, dancing the open halls, the music carrying me where it will, closer and closer to the source but not quite to the core. I felt a whisper in my ear, a divine feeling of faith, and I closed my eyes, trusting my pillars to carry me safely to whatever destination they had in mind. So I danced and moved, and with a sixth sense that I’m sure only comes from self preservation and a lifetime of dancing I managed to only barely miss the walls around me. A flick of my banner against the stone here, a toss of my head there, the whispers to move just a little left before spinning out. 

Louder and louder the music became, but always just out of reach, as if I were dancing circles around the outside of the floor. This suited me fine- I could dance for myself, for my goddess until my heart was content. Then, and only then, I could join the number that were surely inside the ballroom that I so carefully wove myself around.

But listen carefully to the sound

Of your Loneliness




« r » || @Isolt