so darling, darling stand by me
ohh stand by me, stand by me
Winter's kiss lays a shroud of gauze around her soul, her heart; wrapping it in frost and bruising her in ice that coats the lining of her veins. She burns despite the cold, as her muscles ache with earning and the breath that fills her lungs shreds her open, like tiny glass shards. Each step, each swoop of her wings, every fell of oxygen in her throat.. she grows. Like a bloom defiant against the hard won battle of spring; blossoming in a blanket of snow in a shock of color and beauty. Chaos written in nature's grasp.
She desires to be like that flower; the first sight of growth in late winter. Much like the lavender blossoms that trickle in the breeze and follow a goddess-made-queen. A woman she had thrown herself over the same cliffs of this land for; her heart broken and beaten and torn. The woman who was blessed by gold and milk and honey and spring triumphant. The woman who held the heart of the man she had once come to love, once upon a time. A woman who she had trusted, then betrayed her, only to offer a branch of peace in the coming of snow and frost and winter wonderlands.
The memory tugs, but still she walks. Firelight dances across her skin as she meanders past the bonfires lining the cliff face, the crowds falling away at her sides. The stormsinger breathes in the wood smoke and exhales ash, the music fading away from her, when once, the drums would beat against her like a second heart. Her gut tightens with each step, the festival sparking a kaleidoscope of emotions from the bottom of her soul and to her lungs; choking her of reason and oxygen.
She inhales, exhaling. Again and again until her racing heart slows, thinking of that one, beautiful flower that blossoms in the dead of winter. Despite all of the odds.
Aislinn will become rebirth; she is healing. She will be remade. And the months she had parted from her home, her king, her Court, her Calligo, have made her so. Her shoulders are near weightless from their burdens, her wings spread wide to welcome the twinkling stars and a kingdom foreign to her. But there is a shadow that grows, taking root far inside her. A gathering dark that gnaws, like a monster clawing at the inside of her ribs and dripping in ichor. She is not free, not yet. So she walks, like a ghost made thunder and storm and blizzards, to the edge of a place she never thought she would return to once more.
Now, amidst the same cliffs that tore her open, cleaving her in two when she was already broken pieces, the stormsinger stands. The violet petals that float in the flurries of snow the path she follows to the edge of the world. Where the earth ends and the sea begins, Aislinn stops. Her hooves gracing the white stone beneath her; her lungs filled with ice and salt and brine of an angry sea. But she is not angry.. no, not at all. Her heart weighs heavier than most; a mending thing sewn with strings the color of dusk brushing the sky before the coming of night.
Like the stars above her, Calligo murmurs to her stormchild. Her divine sister's watercolors splotch across the expanse of sky in riddles of spring and muted cold. The sun slumbers, sinking below the horizon, and the moon will soon slowly rise. Ink descends over the heavens as she looks up up up. One hoof poised, delicate, she bows her crown to those skies, and what gods lay hidden among the stars. Her goddess among them; bless her, for despite her wanderings.. Calligo never forgot her. For Aislinn would do well not to forget her too, as she rises, a gaze born of brightest blue flames a pyre of wonder in the night. She is a beacon of the darkness eternal, as shatters of stardust fall from above and cling to her skin. A breathing star-map and a true embodiment of the place she calls her forever home.
A phantom smile pulls the corners of her lips at the very thought, as the shadow seedling in her claws and claws and claws. She has a purpose, she knows, and now she must wait. Her home, her kingdom, her Court.. they call to her. But she is not done yet; for a question lingers on the edge of her mouth, unspoken. Aislinn has never asked for help before.
And now she must ask the love of her king, for a kindness she prayed the new Queen would bear. Forgive me, Calligo, for I will sin.
At her side, stands the opposite of her coin. Where she was once the warrior shrouded in hell and shadows and stars, Florentine is the kind whisper of a spring breeze that heals without the use of words. A stormsinger and a flower girl, atop the cliffs once more. She feels like she is awake in a dream, but she knows it is not so. For once, nightmares did not plague her as her gaze fell upon the woman at her side. Her stomach did not drop, nor roil, and a dagger did not pierce the center of her chest. Instead, she remembers her comforting touch, and the whispers of a lullaby on the edge of her memory, like a nearly forgotten dream.
She remembers the olive branch, and instead of lightning sizzling across her skin in anger, Aislinn smiles softly. Her breath courageously even, despite the shadow that threatens to drown her. "Blessed evening, Queen," she begins, her question toying with her lips as gooseflesh rises on her legs. "I do hope I am not intruding."
@Florentine eeeep -boops the snoot- ♡ THIS IS SO RUSTY I'M SO SORRY -hides-
"Aislinn speech."
Florentine stands upon the edge of Novus. Lamps cast themselves off the edge of this world and drift out, out towards infinity. She wonders what it would be like to fly with them. Her body is light, her heart already gone. It wings its way up into the skies, lit by the golden flames of a thousand floating lamps. Yet Florentine remains grounded and her heart tethered. Her wings are spread, wide and glorious and gilded gold. She does not fly but merely stands and feels the air beneath the down of her feathers.
Another approaches the Dusk Queen. She hears the jangle of coin, the press of night and dread rises like a swell of black within her. Her eyes close against the presence, she doesn’t want to see him, not after their earlier encounter. She does not think of the absence of jasmine, or that the footfalls are too light to ever be her Night King lover. Instead she says wearily, without turning. “Reich, I–“
She stops, hearing the sigh of feathers caught in a fitful wind. The flower girl turns abruptly, met not by a king, but a stormsinger. “Aislinn.” Flora breathes silver and soft. “Forgive me, I thought you were Reichenbach.”
Her eyes alight upon the smile that curls the stormsinger’s lips. It is a ray of gold in a roiling sky. The dusk girl’s own tip up in answer. Was there anything easy between these girls? How ironic that they should again meet here, upon the weather-worn cliffs when this time it is Florentine’s heart wounded by their King of Thieves.
“You are not intruding. Your presence is quite welcome.” Blue meets amethyst as Florentine studies Reich’s gypsy warrior. “I hope you find the festivities enjoyable?” A wing gestures to the lamps, the dancing, the merrymaking. “You seem to come with purpose, Aislinn. If you have come to ask as to where my brother is, I cannot help you, I rather assumed I would find him with you.”
The smile she holds is a painful thing and she aches for wearing it.
so darling, darling stand by me
ohh stand by me, stand by me
The stormsinger is cocooned in Calligo's embrace; stardust clings to her skin in gauzy silver, and her eyes rage in storms and promises of thunder in the dark. At the cliff's edge, she hangs onto the grey stones with her hooves frosted into the snow banks at her feet. The skies above her cry in inky tears as the stars slowly yawn awake in glimmers of blue as the sun descends further below the horizon. A perfect backdrop to the daughters of Dusk and Night eternal — with the roaring sea below and the music of the festival at their backs.
She thinks of the question that lingers on her lips like the aftertaste of sugar; sweet and unspoken. For a moment, they stand together in the quiet that settles. Their sister hearts beat in the wilds of this night, but there is a heaviness that weighs upon their shoulders. A wordless blanket that drags the queen's wings outwards, and whispers in the flurries in both of their feathers. Under the stars, the stormsinger's breath hitches with the cold that dances along the curves of her frame. Her ears barely catch the words that fall from Florentine's lips; suddenly breaking the icy surface of their silence.
Reich, I—
Aislinn's gaze abruptly turns, blue orbs falling on the flower girl. The oxygen in her lungs stands still as her heart remembers; oh, for how it had bled. The crack in the queen's voice is a familiar one; a feeling of ghostly daggers piercing one's chest and cleaving it open for the world to marvel at a broken heart. Aislinn's own ribs constrict at the memory — for the pain will never truly leave her — as the breath in her throat catches. What has he done? But as soon as the thought begins, it is fleeting.. it is not her place. Instead, she notices the burden that sits upon Florentine's shoulders. For she is as if the gods themselves had cradled their hands and crafted her from the burnished gold of newborn suns and blossoms of softest lilac.. and grief, however small or endless, does not bode well on the goddess made spring.
You seem to come with purpose, Aislinn.
Her heart cracks under the weight of hearing his name. Asterion.. she had not yet sought for him, although she burned to do so. The shame of her cowardice so many moons ago has weighed over her like a phantom shroud; a world of guilt and shame that has taken the luster from her eyes and drags her down like gravity. She cannot bring herself to see him.. not yet. "Would you believe me if I told you that I was looking for you?" she asks, her voice a soft chaos that murmurs lightning and shadows and stars. There is a truth to her words; for they are no longer the same women who had found themselves upon these same grey stones in the late of another night. Another starry expanse listened as she had laid bare her tears and sorrow; another map of constellations watched as her heart had been betrayed. But they are not those same women from then.. oh, no. For now, the gold-dusted girl she had met has risen to queen, and she is but a stormsinger who's heart no longer bleeds at the hands of a gypsy king.
The lovely bronze of her lips curl sweetly as the thick of her lashes lays on her cheeks; her chest warming at the thought of their olive branch, and the journeys they have both made. Her sigh is a whisper that rises and falls, before her gaze flickers open in licks of blue flame. Once more, she stares to the edges of the sea and the night sky, and the lanterns that float towards the end of the world. Wishes are bound into each lamp in golden candles that pierce the dark; and she wonders, but for a moment, the beauty of letting go such a wish made with only the stars above as witness.
Much like the plea that hides in the curves of her mouth.
She cannot stand with want and the silence that threatens to build between them. Although her heart shrivels at the sound and sight of Florentine's ache that tries to hide, the stormsinger cannot help but feel her own smile shake. Gooseflesh shivers down her spine as a flurry of snow swirls around them, tossing the moonlight of her mane around her, hiding her eyes. Her gaze does not meet the gems of the queen's own as her whisper floats between them on the shifting of snowflakes that land on the honey of her coat. "I have a favor to ask of you."
Stardust clings to her in shifts of silver against the ebony of her skin. For a moment, she wants to believe that she can almost feel her goddess cradle her close. Shadows writhe and hold her; a comfort of darkness that warms the coldest parts of her soul.. the parts of her that are ravaged by the seedling demon that claws in the heart of her. Even now, in Night's embrace, she can feel it.. and she shakes her crown violently to be rid of such an evil that roars.
Her voice nearly breaks.. but she is still a stormsinger, and her words breathe hurricanes and wavering strength as she turns to meet Florentine's waiting eyes. Blue and amethyst stones that burn through the emotions that wreck havoc on this night. "Would I.. be able to stay?" She inhales, before exhaling long and slow. A muscle furrows above her brow, before looking downcast and out towards the sea. "There is a darkness that grows.. and I do not know what to make of it." But does not say the next words that squeeze her heart and steal her breath.
I am afraid.
@Florentineall of the feels holy muffin ♡
"Aislinn speech."
Does Aislinn know the strength she imbued Florentine with? Does she know the way lightning still crackles around the tattered ruins of the Dusk Queen’s heart? It was the stormsinger who taught her what it was to weather Reichenbach’s hurricane. It is fitting then, a gesture of fate, that the stormsinger comes to her after the hurricane is gone.
“No, I wouldn’t believe you.” Flora says with a smile, a laugh that feels wrong upon her lips and loose within the ruins of her heart. She shudders at the threads of her heart, thin like gossamer, still hurting with the memory of its lover’s angry claws. “But I am glad you are here.”
Florentine turns from the sea and into the storm. She has not sent a lamp out to sea, lit with the flame that once burned between her and her Night King. Their flame is snuffed out, not even the sea will welcome it’s flight.
There are tears upon her lips. They are ghosts, but so real Florentine still tastes the salt of Aislinn’s sorrow. Flora had cried before Reich, oh she had tried not to, but her broken heart could no longer contain its sorrow. It ran in rivulets down her cheeks.
Oh Lysander. She should go to him, but the thought of him leaving with her dragon-Regent is a final sorrow she has no room for this night. Florentine is too full of sadness and betrayal, so, as she turns from the shore, there is only one place she goes: into the storm.
She looks upon the storm’s sweet smile, a balm upon their shared wounds. A voice cracks – is it her own, is it Aislinn’s? In those azure eyes Flora sees her absent brother and comfort warms her veins and spills out from a heart that can no longer contain it.
Would I be able to stay? There is a darkness that grows and I do not know what to make of it.
And Florentine’s body is against Aislinn’s. It is a moment, a second so brief, but lasts as long as an eternity. They are earth and sky, bound together in light and darkness. Her body still remembers Reichenbach’s against it, still craves him, but her heart takes comfort here. Their hearts bear twin scars
“Of course, stay, I would not have it any other way.” A kiss, presses upon Aislinn’s cheek. It is full of apology and solidarity. Then her forehead presses against Aislinn’s, they have weathered him, and together they are the passing storm and the return of the golden sun.
“I know the darkness, sister.” Silence, silence descends in the space between their breaths. Such silence is anguish and yet contentment. It weaves through their tangled hair and binds the girls closer, closer. “You may stay for an eternity if you so asked.”
In the snow the two girls stand, a girl of gold and flowers clutching a storm girl closer. There is a new love that comes and regards the broken threads that once wove her heart together. In silence it picks them up and sets to work.
so darling, darling stand by me
ohh stand by me, stand by me
The snow that falls is like their silent, unspoken tears — beautiful but lethal with the ache that bleeds with both of their heartbeats. She gulps down shards of glass that pierce her lungs and choke her, rob her, and snatch what little breath she has. Her fear, her darkness, her demon.. it gnaws, and snaps, and snarls. And she cannot help but become afraid by it's insistence, it's claws. So she stands, with her gaze upon the darkened horizon and a phantom blade twisting in her chest in the demon's grip. She can almost swear, that the evil's name is a familiar one to her; it bears a crown of crystals and night jasmine, lovely and deadly and horribly akin to the king that they had both come to love.
Once.
Now, they stand together upon the cliffs overlooking an icy sea. And she wonders, but for a moment, if these grey stones beneath her will never not taste the salt of her tears. Her heart bleeds through the threads of twilight and dusk and daydreams that have sewed it back to wholeness; both for herself, and for her flower girl. Her friend, her sister, and new queen. They had both foolishly fallen for a gypsy boy who rose to become a king of stars and smoke, and now, they both have been tossed aside by his wildness. She had never wanted to wish the same pain on another, not once, besides that ache that had ripped her into pieces.
Aislinn would do anything to wipe the tears from Flora's eyes, even if it meant raging a storm against the man who caused them to fall. Florentine's kiss on her cheek is a shower of heat that melts the ice that holds her in a tight fist. And suddenly, their foreheads touch, and she gasps, soft and wonderfully surprised. She doesn't know.. couldn't know, that this gesture speaks volumes without the use of words.
They might not be cahira entering battle then, but now and forever and always, they are bound with something stronger than she could have ever imagined. Thank you...
I know the darkness, sister.
Together, they lean together, clutched in the shadows and flickering firelight beneath a shower of falling snow and stars that hide in the darkness. Where her sorrow danced shivers along her spine in fingers, Florentine's touch brings a warm brighter than any sun. They are twin hearts, twin souls, and sisters now. And nothing would tear them down.. for she swears it. Swears it on the silence that stretches like a galaxy between them, and on each tear that is soaked into the stones at their feet.
No more of their tears would fall on these stones again. That, Aislinn would promise.
"This darkness," she whispers, biting her lower lip as her gaze blinks downwards towards the edge of the world, "it has a name. I can make them pay."
She turns then to regard the Dusk Queen, her spring goddess. The blue sapphires of her eyes burn in flames of precious stones, much like the amethyst gems she stares into. Slowly, she blinks, and with it, her heart swells. Flora's kindness is another thread of lavender that mends her heart together. The flower girl and the storm child. Betrayal is a far off memory, and now, they have never been closer. Calligo and Vespera save them, for their sister goddesses have woven their fates. In all lifetimes, and universes, and timelines.
Aislinn's gaze whispers in warmth and stars and lightning, but it is a welcome storm, a calm shower of rain that welcomes the coming spring. She brushes stray gold strands from Flora's face, tucking them behind the curve of her ear with a tender touch. Her orbs find the deep purple of her own, noticing the flecks of orange hidden in their depths. The symphony of waves crashing below and the festival around them cocoons her and drags her down, down, down. She falls like a meteor back into reality, and the realization of the demon that snaps far inside her. "What do we do? What can I do?" she asks, the lightning sizzling under the ebony of skin crackling. Wanting, wishing, craving release. Vengeance. Revenge.. something. Anything.
And the storm that churns in the heart of her is a promise of thunder and hurricanes that will wreck havoc on the soul that cause harm to the woman at her side.
@Florentinesisters ♡ ugh.. I'm so sorry if this post is all over the place ;_;
"Aislinn speech."
This darkness, it has a name. I can make them pay.
Those words, those words so swathed in shadow and menace are spoken with a whisper and the innocence of a bitten lip. Flora’s eyes, as bruised purple as her heart, draw over Aislinn’s worried lip. They do not linger long, for they close beneath the force of such whispered words. They are spoken with the softness of a butterfly’s wings but make landfall upon Flora’s soul with the force of a hurricane.
Oh Aislinn could make them pay. Florentine would join her in every step. Riteousness would be theirs. In her chest, that fly-away heart of hers still stutters in shock. It still makes her veins thrum with nervous trembling and wild, savage fury. But above all, above the hum of her veins and the shaking of her heart, is the betrayal that is a crying slash across her face.
“Reich hypnotized me.” Now it is Florentine’s time to whisper. She whispers through the storm of her anguish and shame, and it leaves her raw and ragged. This girl is split so terribly open. “He made me tell him the truth.” Her voice is a bleat, and she feels like a lamb before the slaughter, but it was her own shame that held the blade. Oh Florentine does not even know if she is guilty of lying. She cannot even fully understand the truth that was forced from her tongue, from her soul. “He was jealous of what Lysander is to me...”
The Night King’s magic was a black, black thing. “I thought I knew him.” Dusk eyes close as Aislinn smoothed a tangled lock of hair from her face, securing it behind a golden, fluted ear. “I am sorry, Aislinn. I am sorry for everything he did, for everything we did to you…” She pauses, dragging in a breath, that swirls with snow and winter-night moans.
Her eyes lift, to meet blue, to sink into that endless sea until she is so deep it turns to black. “Is it terrible to want retribution?” Florentine seizes another breath but this is not so easy. A guilt fills her lungs with razors and oh the breath cuts her deep. “Reich and Isorath are in love.” Such small words trail off, swallowed by Calligo’s shadows, swallowed by snow and winds that refuse to be still. They snag in the girls’ hair and leave cold kisses along their cheeks.
“I do not know what to do Aislinn…” The curves, the lines, the gradients of this storm girl’s face are beautiful and wild and savage. She knows why her brother succumbed to such beauty. “I cannot trust him again and, because of that, I do not know what to say you should do. I fear it will only draw a line between our Courts.”
Snow, snow, snow, it is thick, it is a shroud, and it makes her feel more protected when she whispers to her storm singer sister. “I am scared to lose you too.”
@Aislinn - allll the confessions and weeping right now
so darling, darling stand by me
ohh stand by me, stand by me
Once, four words had made her swollen heart a ravaged wasteland of would-be's and could-be's. But now.. now, only three words stop her heart from where it beats madly in her chest. Only three words. Only —
Reich hypnotized me.
Florentine's words are a murmur that coaxes Aislinn's storm with the right spark. All she knows is the rush of the blood pounding in her ears, and the air that has become ignited in her lungs. She is a blazing spear of lightning, carefully bound in the constraints of ebony skin and muscles that coil from those whispers. There is a hairsbreadth where the lightning in her blood and bones sizzles. Beautifully. Wickedly. But now, the darkness inside her growls, but she answers it with a crackle of thunder. She would no longer be eclipsed by it's shadows, it's hell. No longer would she allow him to claw at her insides from where her broken heart had once laid tattered.
In this moment, she forever decides to do what she had forsaken for too long.
She would not be quiet. Not anymore. For not only her sake, but now, for Florentine's.
The queen's words and lips tremble, and it is all she can do to not swoop her into an embrace; to calm the sea of her emotions. But it is her own battlefield, and Aislinn can only stand at it's edge in fear that if her wrath were unleashed, Flora would be caught in the eye of her storm. She would be the carnage breathing destruction on this cliff, in the wake of the people who revel here. She would be the lightning that showers upon their snowy expanse in swords of starlight, unbidden and dangerous and so so alive. She would be the bloodied wraith in the dark, as she screams upon the demon's face with the anger and power of a million storms. She would be Calligo's stormsinger, answering the vengeance she so rightfully sought for both her own heart, but now the heart of the Dusk queen. Her spring goddess. Her friend. Her sister not bound by blood.
How many hearts did the demon have to break before he stopped the pain left in the wake of his shadows?
I am scared to lose you to.
Florentine sweeps in her close, and Aislinn can feel every beat of their twin hearts where their skin touch. Ink and gold, the setting sun and the moon. They are cocooned in the snow that swirls around them in phantom kisses of crystal on this night. But her skin is too hot, burning, as her insides are ignited by the spark of Florentine's words. She has become a soldier on not only her own war, her own emotions that battle within her soul, but now she is a general in the golden woman's kingdom that has fallen victim to the demon's treachery. He had conquered both of their hearts like the boy king he was. Now, he had left the cities of their hearts ruined. Emptied. Ransacked and left to the dust of history to erase as he fell in love with someone else. And now.. now, that demon has a god damn name.
Reichenbach.
Aislinn can only wrap her neck around the sun-kissed woman closer, closer, closer. In hope that maybe, possibly, she will not be undone by the rage that kindles inside her chest. Winter winds whip around them angrily, smacking the wilds of her mane around her face and eyes from where they are tightly closed. She breathes in the drops of gold upon Flora's skin, finding a solace in their comfort, in the lavender blossoms that float in around them. Just like the night they had met, she finds a home in those purple flowers, and in the warmth that seeps into her skin in their embrace. But this time, when she pulls away and blinks upwards to meet Flora's gaze.. silver does not line her eyes.
Oh no; now, the blue her orbs are hurricanes that swirl. They are pools that match the magic that sings in her blood. They are mirrors that reflect the fury that blinds her world in shades of red. Her voice is an equal thunder that does not shake. No, Aislinn has become a steady stone that meets an untamed sea. Even, without remorse. Without hesitation. "Look at me," she commands, "you are a queen now. You do what is right for you and for your people. The crown is heavy, but you have to do what you think is right. I will not counsel you to do otherwise."
The stormsinger steps away, the flurries of snow dancing in wild twirls along the dark of her skin. Below, far, far below, the sea crashes along the cliff face in a match to her internal screams. Her gaze flickers sidelong, seeing nothing and everything at once. The air teases her feathers, her wings, in whispers of ice and the taste of blood on her lips. She does not meet the amethyst of her eyes as she says, "I will not apologize for his fate in the matter."
She knows only this: she will make him pay. She was no longer afraid.
Aislinn turns, slow and unfurling the great expanse of her wings. Before she can vanish, her lips part, soft and deadly. A promise made once more on the falling star of tears. "You will not lose me. That I can promise."
All that is between the two girls now is snow and wind. The wind drives clouds in and they arrive at Aislinn’s bidding. Her fury is their masterpiece and they darken in shades Florentine could never imagine. Their wrath is in their shadows that crawl across the cliff top. Far, far below the sea also pushes in, crashing and breaking against unyielding rock; the unending waters claw and claw and claw.
They have been here before, Florentine and Aislinn.
It was a night so like this. Darkness shrouded them, deep and dark and impenetrable. Their grief was a bitter taste upon the wind. But there is something new, this time.
There is an anger they share and it seethes like fire. It scolds its way through their veins and lights those black clouds red, red, red. The Dusk girl’s heart is a wild tattoo within her chest, it beats out a rhythm she has never known before. It races, ragged and broken, knees bruised and shins cut, but it keeps on running. Her ribs ache as the night slips on, drawing their shared anger out like blood from a wound.
This night will bring them the catharsis they so desire. It leaves cold-bitten kisses of snow upon their skin. It wets their lashes with snowflakes and pinches their cheeks with the frigid winter chill. Alive! It demands of them and the girl of gold and grief obeys with wide, wide eyes. She awakens beneath the demanding touch of this cold night.
The girls are gold and ink, lavish art laid out to paint the surroundings. They have no dragons to haunt the skies and guard their treasures. They have no treasures to guard, they have given them all away; to each other, to their kingdoms. They give and give and give, but there is one who takes and takes and takes.
Look at me. And who is Florentine to disobey? Her eyes lift to let amethyst be lit by fierce, fierce blue. Aislinn holds her there and the Dusk girl listens until she is full of vows and promises. Until her nerves begin to sing with fevered desire to do differently. She nods gently, a promise without words, but filled with the richness of gold; the wealth of this night is beyond measure.
Oh Florentine drinks in her night sister. She swallows the stars, the shadows, the electricity that sparks along their skin where they touch. A small smile curls Florentine’s lips, even as Aislinn peels away, to let her wings unfurl and feathers cup the winds like a thousand sails. The storm singer stands before the Dusk queen, beautiful and fierce and righteous in her anger. Storm clouds reach down for their gypsy, down through snow and wind. Flora watches them, a fleck of gold far, far below their blackening menace.
Slender limbs draw Flora back too, though her mane still reaches for Aislinn, empowered by the winds. Petals ride the unseen air, made visible only by the blizzard. “Then I trust you.” And it feels good to trust again.
“Go Aislinn. We will meet again.” And the winds begin to howl, calling their gypsy away. Then she turns and only the sound of the waves can be heard as the Dusk queen returns to her citadel.
so darling, darling stand by me
ohh stand by me, stand by me
Then I trust you.
The sea calls to her once more, just as the ocean blue had sung to her in a dream so many moons ago. The cliffs below her call to her, tasting of salt tears and lullabies. The rain dribbling her steaming skin calls to her, in a chorus that only she and she alone can hear. The sky calls to her, much like Calligo’s shadows and smoke and stars. But this.. this is an answer to an unsaid prayer. An awoken magic that has been laid dormant within her for too long. Much like her silence, her guilt. Her shame. Her heartache. Unspoken things that have been wretched upon her, and now Florentine.
No longer will she stay wayside for her pain; to wallow in it’s misery.
Go, Aislinn. We will meet again.
A wicked, lovely grin curls her lips, brightening the blue flames of her eyes like shining stars in the gathering night. A knowing smile. A promise. The wind howls, singing to their storm daughter, their gypsy. Starlight threads whip around her, a halo that nearly glows in the icy tendrils of winter’s last kiss. She does not take her eyes away from her sister, her friend; but instead, Aislinn meets those gems of burning amethyst.. and she finds a familiar spark. That was all she needed; the fires of her orbs flickering, flaring in answer. The frosted stones beneath her hooves slip as her weight begins to tip over the edge of the cliff for the second time; her wings tucked close to the might of her frame. Her voice is a musical sound that carries on the symphony of that thunderous wind, as Aislinn once more slips over the edge of the world.. and down to the wild sea below.
"May we meet again." Then.. she vanishes; the mist and night swallowing the stormsinger whole.
And when she returns.. there will be hell to pay.
@Florentine ♡ this thread is life ;_; I love them so much oml
Rolls into the events of this thread ^u^ P.S. thank you so much beautiful for this! <3
* quote directly inspired by the show The 100 c:
"Aislinn speech."
