[P] While unending ages run

[Florentine]

i'm a pretty flower girl
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She stands wild and lit by the light cascading from another world. Star-fire licks across her skin and solar dust blows over her like a righteous reckoning. Light shatters into droplets as they fall upon her skin and burst like a thousand suns.
 
There is no darkness that reaches her. Oh she has made herself too bright for that. Florentine has, beneath the lights of this distant world, become other.
 
Florentine’s eyes, as they watch him, are filled with violence and promise. They are as sharp as her dagger that glints malevolently in the starlight.
 
Reichenbach keeps from her when he arrives. He wears his shadows with arrogance, he wears them with pride and with her dagger, Florentine vows strip them from him.
 
With a slash of her blade a ray of other-worldly light tumbles to land at his feet. It does not touch him; it does not need to. This is a promise to her once lover. It is a vow that the light sings, a cry from a heaven she has ripped apart with her subtle knife: he will pay for his sins, on the day of her choosing.
 
Florentine burns like gold and she turns her bright eyes upon him, holding this gypsy fast within her sight. Oh she knows him, every inch of his skin, like he knows hers. But all they recognize of each other is skin and bone; they do not know their souls, their hearts. Have they ever?
 
There is a savagery within him that has spoken to her. He has unleashed a wild part of this Dusk girl. It is a part kept bound since her mother made her; a piece of Karou, Florentine never knew was there. The ice of her father could never balance it, never extinguish this fire and it burns, it smolders, it consumes his daughter from the inside. What irony it was that her once-lover had fallen into the arms of a dragon, when she had been birthed by one!
 
Her chin lifts and the worlds rage from their slit-windows. Their light illuminates her every sin though Reichenbach remains shrouded in darkness, his sins covered. Florentine knows they are there. She can count their every one like ornate tattoos upon his skin. So brazen is his disregard for her!
 
They do not speak, not even when her petals, blown by celestial winds, reach across the space between them and turn to fire beneath the heat of a sun so close to one ragged world-window. They blow ash across his skin, a ghost of a touch, their love turned to wrack and ruin.
 
It is a blessing that Florentine does not know how the sight of her, fierce and wild, pleases him, or else she might seek to bring a world down upon Denocte for his ego.
 
Words from her soul, blood from a friend… he has taken too much and by all the gods of Novus she would redeem from him. Florentine would bring the Night King to his knees, with her dagger, with a smile, with all the fury of the universes that burst within her.
 
Her every nerve is wildfire, her very soul sets itself against him. She thinks she might end the world now if only to be rid of his smile, of the casual way he regards her as though she is worth nothing to him.
 
He is still, but she is not. She is the violent sea that eats away at the rock before her.  Wild and wayward, Florentine crosses to him, with limbs that have always known the path to to the Night King. It is shameful to realize how easily she would find him in the dark, with her eyes closed, with her heart wound up tight.
 
Only when she is close enough that their breath entwines, only when she is close enough that jasmine dresses her where his darkness cannot, only then does the Dusk girl stop. Florentine takes in the black of him, the sins that paint his skin so many shapes, so many colours.
 
Close, close, close. She does not need to move closer to hear him, for he is there, his words finding the spaces between them.
 
Is this all for me?
 
Ah such arrogance! The fae-girl smiles as an avenging angel might, slow and wide. It is beautiful, lit beneath the stars, gilded in gold and held in amethyst, but its colour is pale beneath the savage beauty of her.
 
There is a sickening glee that twists her stomach when she looks to the Night King, when she thinks how much she wants top open a world within him. He is dust and stars they say, well, she can make him so. Florentine will turn her magic dreadful and bring the stars of the universe to pour from him like blood and the meteors like shards of bone. Oh she would break him and end him like he nearly ended her friend.
 
“Yes.” Florentine answers him at last. Dusk stands before Night, bright and luminous, the stars that refuse to shine, the sun that refuses to set. “It is all for you, Reichenbach. Everything, always.” There is no sincerity in her. There is no soft smile that she once wore for him: a smile that came with love. There is nothing now. Nothing but a jagged, open, broken piece of her that will make him bleed too.
 
Wild girl, wild and savage, she draws a breath, her eyes closing, fanning her cheek: beautiful, fragile, fierce.
 
“You are a bastard.” She says softly. “To stand here so brazenly when I have felt broken bones and been covered in blood…” There is a breath, stolen and ragged, and it is the only sign that she is even shaken by this man, this monster cast from her heart. “Controlled.”
 
Over his throat her eyes wander, down to a beating heart that thrums within his chest. Her lips press to the groove of his throat, where his artery thrums, rhythmical, wild. She laughs like splitting stars and felling trees. “I am surprised you still have a heart that beats; so many times you have given it away.”
 
Florentine pauses, thoughtful. “I will end you, Reichenbach. Not now, maybe not even in a few years from now. There is no place in Time or Space where I cannot find you and ruin you. For your treachery, for your selfishness, for all the ways in which you serve only yourself, I will make you pay. To think you ever had a heart capable of love... If this is how you treat those who love you, then you do not deserve any love.”
 
The Dusk queen leans back, liquid gold and painted by flowers. She drinks in the sight of her Night King and she hates him, she loves him, she loves to hate him.
 
“This is between us. This is not about our courts. By the gods you and your new lover have dragged mine through enough. Whatever happens from here is the two of us and us alone.”

@Reichenbach OML I am so sorry. I tried to make this shorter. I don't even know what to make of it, sorry.

florentine
rocking your pretty flower world