FLORENTINE
always one decision away from a totally different life
Her memories had come like light breaking through the dark of a shell. Unknowing had shattered like glass and oh what a time for it to do so.
She stands, gold and bright, upon the sweep of hill, ascending up to its crowning citadel. Florentine drinks in the court and remembers everything, but wishes to remember nothing at all once more.
There is no tip of her lips, no smile that laughs and hides upon her lips. There is no gleam of her eyes that glitters with mirth and mischief. It is because Florentine is none of those things. Her memories have stolen them all, and her brother lead her down the path to remember each one more clearly.
Her petals stumble and trip, snagging and clinging to rocks and leaves as the pacifist wind pushes them toward the stone of the Night Court. There was a queen now, but Florentine cannot make her nerves rest easy, she cannot summon a smile when her good humour is buried so terribly deep.
Her ache is deep and horrid, it echoes in the throb of her wing (still so slightly twisted and not whole). Ah to fly again, she thinks but tugs her wings tighter still to her slim sides. Her beauty was an easy thing to lose, her memories a worse thing to gain, when her brother has brought her here.
And yet… and yet. There is the smallest warmth, a miniature candle to ward off the looming black. It melts the cold upon her heart and makes her warmer, warmer. For not all returning memories are bad there are those of love and joy that refuse to be snuffed out, that burn indefinitely, sometimes a solitary tea light, sometimes a wild fire that laughs and sends the darkness fleeing.
@Asterion @Lysander | | <3 whoever you think!
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
