C Y R E N E TAKE THIS SINKING BOAT and point it home · · ·
To the untrained eye, nothing had changed. Dusk was still a kingdom of lavender sunsets and quicksilver nights. Florentine was still a queen gilded in honey and gold; Asterion, a regent of moonlight eyes and ocean-tossed hair. Nothing had changed. And yet, and yet — everything had changed. The shadows that had stayed always at the edges of Terrastella, little more than whispers, had finally swallowed her whole. The bloodshed, the betrayals, the heartbreak. They had sucked and sucked and sucked at her light, until — Night no longer chased dusk. Because dusk had lapsed into night. - - -
A smile tugged at Cyrene’s lips like it always did, as she waved merrily to the citizens who’d come to greet the sable-haired regent and lion-eyed emissary. She’d taken care to memorize their faces, and addressed as many of them by name as time would allow when she passed. Basked by shining sky, wreathed in golden sun, the two of them were radiant. “How refreshing it is, to be out of the castle at last!” Cyrene sang as she turned towards Asterion, her smile never faltering. It was, perhaps, the only constant to a girl as fleeting as a lunar eclipse. Her ability to laugh in the face of death, to grin through crystalline tears, had never failed her. Yet as Asterion’s warm eyes met hers, as his lips moved to reply, Cyrene wondered quietly if it ever would. What then? What would be left of her then? “Wait.” Immediately, those lion’s eyes sharpened. The lovely smile of before darkened into something feral, something razor-edged, as her amber gaze swept towards the towering shadow yards away that had drawn Asterion’s nerves as tight as a bowstring. After the Davke attack, caution had carved a path through all of their hearts. Every stir of the grass, every creak of a branch, startled Cyrene more than she cared to admit. She had a feeling that Asterion shared in her paranoia. Yet still, he approached the stranger first. Hesitating for the lightest of seconds, Cyrene followed quickly after him as he made his way towards the bloody, mangled form that trailed so desolately along the castle wall. Female, Cyrene deduced, from her scent — though even that was foreign, like the stranger had come from someplace farther than even the crimson emissary herself. The closer they approached, the more Cyrene’s eyes narrowed as she took in the odd angle of the girl’s vast wing, the milkiness of her wandering eyes. Her thoughts refused to settle, as memories of gruesome, distorted bodies filled her heart with increasing alarm. Where had she sustained such injuries? If there was one, was the attacker still here, hiding in the shadows like a coward? “Her wing looks broken, and I think she’s… blind. She needs to be treated,” she murmured to Asterion, her curls brushing against his neck as she leaned in with a furtive frown. She drew away again before he could reply, his stare boring into her back as she gingerly approached the dark-pelted enigma. "You’re safe here.” Cyrene nodded as the regent’s words drifted softly from behind, even though she knew the stranger couldn’t see it. “Yes, you are. Please do not be alarmed, I am a healer and you’re badly hurt,” she said gently, though her eyes remained alert. The mysterious girl was so much taller than she, and to startle her would escalate matters needlessly. “My name is Cyrene, and with me is Asterion. May I approach you, to examine your wing?” She paused carefully, just shy of the silver-haired visitor's wingspan, as she waited for a reply. "speech" | @Virun @Asterion | notes: ahh hush griff, I am forever in awe of your writing <3 (and jeanne's!) so excited for this thread c:
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