"Perhaps all a Tsaritsa is is a beautiful cold girl in the snow.... "
Nightfall blanketed the skies as the deep indigo's created the perfect backdrop for the stars to dance across. A visual of raw beauty that the kirin was sure to never grow tired of especially given the ability for her to experience it in close proximity. The cooling air of the warm day caressed beneath the thin skin of tiring wings, rusty of long distance travel in the more recent of times. In the pale moonlight the obsidian tint of the God’s blessed creation shone — marking the end of a wart travelers journey. It is on a downward tilt of an umber head that pale rosette meets the icy chill of the dragon’s eyes; dark lips tilt upward mildly.
It is from a belly full of mirth that Tanith finds herself truly fighting back a fit of laughter as she descends; kohl lined eyes narrowing as she takes in the scenery. They sweep over the lack of activity and the razed ground beneath — withered away by dragon fire, it is a familiar sight. She has, after all, has done the same thing many times over. The singular difference is the mercy shown that the land outside the kingdom burned and the distinct taint of burnt flesh did not linger. It was a smell that clings to the air for days after, warning all of their impending fate should they misstep. That in itself sparks a curiosity borne from an immortally impish nature within her.
i wonder who´s upset him so, she muses out loud, voice low. There is a flick of her slender head, thick tresses cutting through the air, as her attention turns back to the observant guardian perched like a gargoyle on the edge of the world. There is no mistaking a dragon’s ire laying waste to the mortality of the world beneath it but she knows that this is entirely stemmed from Isorath‘s desires — for Gilgamesh is not Asharru who holds a little too much of Tiernar’s essence in her soul. The thought forces a longing look to be cast over her shoulder, in the direction of which she’s come from, knowing that the pale creature of lore is miles away; most likely just as agitated by their broken connection as she. A connection she knows has already informed the pale high prince of her presence.
The magic here is different. It is something tanith acknowledged the minute she crossed the threshold into these foreign lands. The blood in others does not sing to her, she does not feel their flow like the strings of a puppet. It is not the first time a new land has diminished her claim to her birthright and she knows that in due time the song of the blood will return to her borne anew. It has been a secret since the beginning of her days, the loss of it seems lackluster compared to the pang of loss of the kindred spirit of her bonded — the disconnect from her god. the hard muscle of her tounge presses into the soft flesh of her cheek as the thoughts dance from her mind forcing her back to the present (of her new reality) where she sits, in wait, lucky enough to have near infinite patience as she awaits the pale prince of vectaeryn´s arrival.
"looking down at someone wretched, and not yielding. "
In the pale moonlight, the dragon basked in his deathly glow. The moonlight painted him the iridescent color of the underworld, Isorath's unrelenting and dark fury. A weapon hewn from the whims of Gods, in the image of their grandness. They are power given form, magic given flesh. A weapon that has been pointed and given purpose, and so he peered outward with an unblinking stare as another Winged Kirin dances into view, another piece of Isorath's home brought to these foreign shores.
She laughed, and the spines along his muscular body ripple and reflect the mirth she poured out into the night air. The gruff reptilian purr which eminated deep within an armored chest echoed in the barren wilderness around them as the Dragon's thoughts pulled inward, along the gilded strands of their bond to attract the attention of the Dragon Prince.
Your cousin is here, she wonders who upset you, he hummed in good humor. He can feel the laughter Isorath uttered in response. It is light and wicked as it plucked the strings between them.
The Prince in question had returned to the Gates, if only to check on if the Guards had kept to their promise. No one in, no one out past the first light in the wake of the Dragon's fire. Such was the will of the Regime, heralded by the force of magic and dragons.
They naturally, regarded him with a healthy dose of fear and respect, as he had fluttered onto those ramparts once more. Wrapped in his silks and gold, radiant and fearsome in the next breath. But the Kirin has now drowned them out, with the announcement that another piece of his family has come to him. Come to this place that is not home, but will make do. Where the magic is different than the hum of the arcane in their blood, and their bond of ancients is forced to slumber until they can reconnect their severed tendrils.
"Everyone and no one, my dear cousin." Came his laughing response, fringed with mirth as he stepped out upon the stones to peer down at her. She hasn't aged a day, such is the privelege of their dragon's blood. Ethereal as the World ravaged itself upon Time's blade. His waterfall hair is caressed and pulled by the winds, soft waves become banners upon the breeze. They catch in the light and their opalescent shimmer glowed, so bright that it would put the moon's own serenity to shame. In the Moonlight he is serene, and ever so deadly. The duality of a finely crafted blade.
"It is a long story, come," he beckoned with a warmth reserved for family, and family alone, "and we may laugh over it together." Isorath mused and then paused. He had been fortunate to be reunited with his Dragon shortly after his arrival to these god abandoned lands, and Asharru's absence from the skies and beside her bonded pulled a sympathetic chord within him. "I trust the journey was not too difficult, and is Asharru safe?" The question is accompanied by Gilgamesh's own hum of questioning, gravelled and deep, the door into the holding is pulled open by his teke in his next breath, a gesture for his cousin to go first.
TAG: @Tanith NOTES: COUSINS UNITE
"this here is your speech colour!
"Perhaps all a Tsaritsa is is a beautiful cold girl in the snow.... "
and so he does not disappoint, the grande prince with body painted in the moon´s light, arriving with an air of prestige earned from the blood thriving through hollow veins. euphoric from the resonance of the mighty dragon´s deep baritone thrumming slithers through the soft caresses of her body — with blushing eyes gently shuttered behind pale lashes kissing the dark apple of high cheekbones — those eyes flicker open just in time to witness his entrance. a thing she can witness with eyes closed knowing the contours and familiarity of his gait as if it is her own, brother of her heart, cousin of her blood; he is family therefore he is remembered in gross detail. he radiates of the gold and marble of palace decor with violaceous eyes sharp and full of the twinkling mirth the woman is so fond of. for the only thing better than an isorath smiling and in good spirits was one with burning eyes and a lust of war in building in the pit of his belly. it would seem that the latter had been missed and, thus, she must take what is given with a graceful smile of her own.
the lyrical tones of his voice carry on the wind and that smile broadens with sharpened edges in mimicry of a shark´s feral grin — for an enemy of her family (especially of the herald to her slim tastes of allegiance) was a feast for her death-swallowed soul. still she moves forth as a pinnacle of otherworldly grace to embrace her divine cousin; he does, in fact, look utterly divine glinting in the moonlight like a burnished trophy. they are visions of their homeland´s striking aesthetic. she with sanguine glint reflecting like gems in the sharp light; he like that of grand war spoils against a throne room floor. there are no words to describe how much the fact that he has maintained himself pleases the vain devil she harbors in a foreign space of her mind.
well, that just won´t do. i hope heads have rolled. the inquiry comes forth in her melodic intonation, smile still carved into the sharp structure of her face. it is on a promise of a story worthwhile (given the expectation of laughter in it´s end) that silences anymore chaotic thoughts of retaliation that may have potentially seeped from mind to soft lips. even away as she is, tiernar´s intentions thrum haughtily like a conscious extension of her. she is him as he is her. it is on the mention of her absent companion that the woman´s mouth twists and carmine eyes flash with an emotion banked quicker than it comes. the journey was traveled as well as one may hope, dearest cousin, though i am long overdue for a hot bath and a night´s rest. there is a moment of silence that follows as her body stills and those eyes shift marginally towards gilgamesh before settling on his own, shuttered in shadows.
she has taken up gilgamesh´s previous post in my absence at my behest. i could not chance her safety travelling to foreign lands where i had no standing. we will be reunited soon if it is the last thing i do. the quiet words spoken as a promise. whether she has to sacrifice, lie, steal, or paint — she would be reunited with her beloved dragon. it was a promise to whatever gods they called their own here and to herself. on that sworn promise the woman shifts back into the languid movements of her lackadaisical personality, lips once again curved upwards, as she proceeded him into the open door. now enough of that, tell me of this place you´ve deemed worthy enough to call home against that of vectaeryn. tanith drawls as she shoots him a pointed look over the shoulder. a look that says she highly doubts that it is in fact better than their homeland.
"looking down at someone wretched, and not yielding. "
Is there nothing more exquisite to behold this night, than them? Reunited under the moons banner and witnessed by a creature they are blessed to call kin? Isorath doubted that there was anything more magnificent than this moment happening on this very night. His family is coming to him, like petals blown on the southern wind, dragons migrating to where they find home away from home. Each one that comes to him empowered him further, they are the wind beneath his wings, the fire which stirred within his chest — fierce and divine in it's fury.
All of this, for them, always.
Isorath would burn the world to ashes for those who are his inferno, who dare to encroach on what he holds dear, who dare to meddle in affairs that are not theirs to trifle with. Tanith's arrival is timely, the spectre who followed in a wake of soot and ashes. He cannot be more grateful to have her by his side, now more than ever. She is another sword in his arsenal, another heart beat, another whisper of wrath and ruin, dragon fire and home.
Attune give Reichenbach strength, a part of him mused with breathless laughter, fond and ever so soft in it's adoration. He has invited Dragons into his Kingdom, and one into his bed.
"Unfortunately not." Isorath responded with a melodramatic tilt of his head, pale lip curled in apparent dissatisfaction. Her embrace is returned ten fold, as lilac pools held her within their sight, it had been so long after all that they had glanced upon one another. She had heeded the call of the Death God, Tiernar had gleefully taken her for himself and elevated her on high with the other priestess, and he had become no more than a ghost on the wind. A ghost who had been twice crowned, twice betrayed and left bereft for it. "They do things rather differently here, it's not as straight forward as our King's justice, I'm afraid. It's being dealt with, so I take comfort in that at least." The Emissary elaborated with a roll of a gilded shoulder, the twitch on his lips didn't quite match the tone of his voice however. It is bitter and exhausted. "We'll make for the palace, once you're ready. The baths there are arguably better than here, and so are the beds." A nod is given to Gilgamesh, who shifted upon his perch and returned the gaze of the kirins with a breath of mist and then he is gone. One strike of thunderous wings into the impossible night.
The Night once again is alive with Dragon Song, but this one is by far a happier tune. It is the song of family reunited, a declaration of strength to those who dared to shuffle along the ruined path.
"She will be safe here in Denocte, when the time comes for you to call her back to your side." He knew the pain only too well, the chasm where their bond should sing. The emptiness was unbearable, and he had spent many a night tossing and turning in his grief. Dragon's were part of their soul, and those who had chosen them were even more dear to them. Their strength and their anchor, a shield and a sword. The ones who listened when the world was too loud. He can feel the preen of his own Dragon through their heart strings, glowing from the praise Isorath had unintentionally admitted through their bond, of what Gilgamesh meant to him.
Don't get used to it, he rasped at the Dragon.
Too late, princeling.
"This place?" He repeated with a hum, as he stepped inside and made for the unoccupied table he had claimed for himself earlier. His silks drag an impossible train behind him, and positively drowned the stone beneath his hooves and his body as he settled down. "Novus is what the land is called, and this is Denocte. Believe me when I say it is the best out of all the lands I have visited since leaving home." He admitted with a deadpan expression upon his delicate features.
"So much so that I have found love here, of all things." Isorath admitted after a moment. "It is that love, among other greviances, which see's the pass on fire and the Gates closed. His name is Reichenbach, and he is the King of this Realm. Then there is Aislinn, who is the Regent and a dear friend, then myself who acts as the Emissary. It's a realm who prides itself on it's people and it's smoke and mirrors. Vaella and Jude are here also, they will be glad to see you, they will no doubt be glad to fill you in on the theatrics currently happening." If theatrics was the right word for it, Isorath had a thousand others lined up, but none really encompassed how the Kirin felt about the whole ordeal better
TAG: @Tanith NOTES: COUSINS UNITE
"this here is your speech colour!
