[P] without you i am a lie

[Sabine]

sad birds still sing

 
The artistry of Delumine was tangible between her thimble-like fingers, for she could feel the running blood of beauty and craft in the earth beneath her feet and with a sweeping close of her electric eyes, Sabine found herself imagining all the ways it might twist and twirl like roots amongst the soil. Her head swam with the allure of the festival that sang and bubbled all around; it called to her, asking her to join, to revel. But of course, she could not. 

Too shy, too reluctant; too much wallflower in her own blood. 

“You have your father’s reluctance to join a party, I see,”

Sabine jolted - her pale rosy skin twitching over small muscles that moved in a flurry of surprise and big blue eyes. She had not noticed the golden silhouette easing into her sphere, not heard the rhythmic sound of his hooves against the grass, nor the heady cologne that clung to his skin (reminding her of sunsets and fire and the way his eyes glittered above a gasoline grin). Air flushed from her lungs as the little bird gazed up at Acton, finding herself caught like a robin in winter snow: frozen, resilient. 

"But I am here, and he is not," she mused softly, noting that it was the fourth day she had not seen her father. His absence was a knife to her little heart.

Her attention, however, was brought easily back to Acton. What was it about this man that made her feel golden inside, as though he had opened her up and poured summer into her veins. Eyes of glaciers and morning skies traced the movement of his frame as he leaned closer to lip at the gossamer strands of her hair. Her gaze revealed little, hid everything. Sabi had learnt, quickly, how to conceal her secrets; tucking them away like forgotten mistakes, burying them deep within cupboards lining the walls of her mind. 

A compliment formed upon Acton's lips - the most enchanting spell he could ever have conjured - and Sabine bit her lip, glancing away from him if only to quell the butterflies beating at her chest. And so she peered up at him as he summoned a flower from thin air, placing it into her tawny locks as she bloomed like the very daisy he had created. 

"You must be bored if you're using your magic on me, Acton," the girl offered a playful tilt of her head, moving slightly away from him now to wander beneath the coloured lanterns adorning the forest's edge, "are you missing home as much as Papa?"



@acton sorry for the lateness!