I S O R A T H They are the symphony of storms, the unrelenting fury of the heavens adrift on the winds, the howling lance of lightning across a forlorn sky. The melodious hum of the cavernous deeps, mysterious and unknowable, shadows ebbing and flowing. They are the sonet of the moon and stars, starlight made liquid and moonglow dusted upon marble. Illuminating and unfathomable, slipping through fingers like smoke. The dream maddeningly out of reach and yet oh so close. A lover's breath upon the skin, the enemies snarling grin. Porcelain hooves sigh against stone as the Kirin entered, drifting next to Reichenbach like silk and lace in the wind. The smile upon his features is cold and unfeeling. Sharp as any blade and winter's jagged fingers. Amethyst eyes pay each one a passing glance, and reveal nothing. There is not an ounce of kindness to be found within those lilac depths, just glacial indifference. He knows their hearts well enough, he has danced this game a thousand times and he will continue to dance it a thousand more. Until the sun refuses to rise and the seas devour the mountains in their rage, until he is nothing but a statue in some crypt, his likeness immortalized in marble and gold. A glance is given to the Sovereigns and their Regime, it's gone as a sigh in the breeze in the next moment, diverted to the statue of Tempus at the head of all this. Once upon a time, he might have felt close to something for them all. But the actions of the seasons have turned those feelings black, a festering wound with teeth and claws. His Gods had murdered other Gods once, rended them from their divine thrones and left them broken and bleeding among their wailing masses. Dragons unfurling out of the heavens in foreign lands howling the song of ancients, he wonders, briefly, if that is how this might end. Gods may have had time and wisdom upon their side, high upon their dias where they must look down at the world from a distance. They could move mountains and reshape reality, place pieces upon the board with intention, but the hearts of mortals were fickle and wild. Chaos in their plans they cannot control. Gods have been killed for less, mortals too. Quite the party. It’s only getting started. The kirin smiles, and it's rows of sharp teeth as he leans into the solid presence of shadows and smoke at his side. Inhales the scent of jasmine and woodsmoke while a silent laugh rumbles in his chest. His gaze stays on Aislinn all the while, mirth glimmering beneath the icy surface. "I look forward to it." He says simply. "What an interesting party this is." TAG: NOTES: "sunshine dasies butter mellow!" |
