[AW] Mirrors start to whisper

[Raum]

 

Raum’s gaze slips like a blade over the soft of Dovev’s wicked smile. His sliver lashes blink slowly, slowly over his electric blue eyes. Static crackles between the hairs of his eyelashes and sings along his nerves. The silver Crow regards his brother as Dovev slips like silk across the cobbled walkway before him.
 
The sand still abrading his skin, is not enough to rid it of its gleam beneath the moon’s hoary touch. It turned everything to silver, falling like stars and transforming everything to liquid mercury, seeping out across the ground. There is no surprise, no regret that might flash dangerously in Raum’s gaze, when Dovev begins convivially. The other Crow knew he was there, of course he did. This is what they had grown up with, they were the same age after all, both artists of the dark, able to sink into Calligo’s black embrace and disappear into nothingness.
 
“You didn’t find me.” Is all Raum says in a voice rich as heated whiskey and soft like the whispering clenching of a noose. Slowly his gaze slips to Dovev’s from where it had been watching the approach of another.  For now only shifting shadows, rippling like ink, betray the stranger’s approach. Yet none could expect to surprise the Ghost of Denocte upon his on territory. The shadows have whispers for him, and he listens. Oh how he listens. “When you actually do find me, I may say hello sooner.” And only then do those silver lips tip into a smile. As fast as light flashing along a dagger’s blade, it is gone again.
 
Raum’s lips are not set for long, for at his brother’s next question his smile grows and grows and grows. That expression is dark like Calligo’s magic, it is filled with a dangerous mirth that licks at the edges of their humour. It is a devil’s smile, a curl of lips made out of steel, soft enough to mold, dangerous enough to scold.
 
“Everything.” The Crow purrs like a jaguar, his gaze as rigid and unwavering as a stalking cat’s. It is a gaze to clench about the throat of his victims as he presses his mouth close and asks them what final wish they might have upon their gasping lips.
 
Raum’s answer is both truth and lie. It is a Crow’s delight and a lover’s remorse. “Sand and sun and personalities bleached like bone.” He says softly. “I got my fun though, with Acton’s help.” He wonders of Bexley, of her fierce eyes and sharp tongue. He was sure she bit like a snake. She was a rapier-girl with a temper that flared faster than light. The Ghost wonders if her bones are bleaching in the ruins of the cave’s entrance… He would have to find Acton and ask his brother what he had heard for Solterra’s gates were closed to Raum now, but he wanted for nothing there. His love was back, their child a quick study under the tutelage of the Crows. There was little he could yearn for, beside Rhoswen’s contentment... Her discord was an arrow in his chest. She was the only creature that could slay him with a look. So much of the fire-hewn girl was a blade to his hoarfrost skin.
 
The Ghost ignores the slither of serpents in his stomach and lets the terrible smile upon his lips remain. It is a beautiful thing, that smile... He is a beautiful thing, if only he let himself be seen – away from his shows. “Nothing has changed, brother. It is just a little more affluent but otherwise simply sand and sun, forever.”
 
Raum’s eyes swallow the moon, as Rhoswen’s words haunt the shadows of him. He can feel the moon dying for love. His teeth clack, for he knows the moon watches him like they are kin, lost in love. “I am not going back. This is my home. My deed to Reichenbach is done. Besides, they will be looking for an attacker now.” And his smile is gone, there is no trace of it left along those satin lips. They are shadow softened and his gaze returns at last to the stranger that slinks in, just as quiet, just as dangerous.
 
I hope I am not interrupting?
 
“Too late if you are.” Raum says, rich as whisky, soft as silk. He does not offer the raven winged man an inch. He moves, pouring like silver wine tipped from a glass. Over the cobbled stones he glides as he regards this stranger with a crow’s wings. “Depends.  Our contacts are vast.”
 
The blade feels cool and ready upon his leg as he drowns the man in sea-blue eyes. With that look the Crow vows to pull him down, down into the depths where only darkness and the song of a blade await Caine.
 
Solterra had sharpened this Crow.


@Dovev @Caine eeee so sorry it took so long my loves <3