M O I R A
she looks into her mirror,
wishing someone could hear her, so loud
He's working up to something, the push and pull of his words draws her in, captivates her until she's nearly hanging off the edge of each one, until they are the center of the world which she revolves around, until he is all that she knows. There is no end nor beginning nor middle. His story simply is. Oh, and the phoenix can feel how he forces light into those dark spaces that threaten to overcrowd and dilute all things pure and sweet and good, how he ignites a flame and keeps it burning despite everything that tells him otherwise, pushes him towards those shadows creeping nearer and nearer, hovering like some meddlesome siblings just waiting to pounce. When he slows, when he pauses, she can almost see the ghosts of his dancing before them, pirouetting and waltzing through the snow without a care in the world - after all, they are dead now anyway. But it is not the end to his torrent of words.
Were his voice a tsunami she gladly would have drowned, thrown herself body and soul into the riptide just to hear him speak again, to hear the gentle intonations rise and fall with the beating of his heart. Thankfully, it is not so fearsome as that, nor as destructive, yet it still leaves her feeling incomplete when he's silent.
"That means...."
She muses, unaffected by his announcement. Although, if she's terribly honest with herself she thinks he makes for a dashing king. Weight, that burden he's worked up to, is finally laid bare and she cannot help but grin like the Cheshire cat despite their conditions and the states of their peoples.
"That means, Asterion, that you should be able to find me something sugary and sweet to share ! You can't let a lady eat something so scrumptious alone, after all."
Throwing a harmless wink his way, she giggles once more and finds her way to his side as they come to the edges of Denocte where buildings are crumbled from the waves and storms that battered them not so long ago and only flowers are left to mourn the dead. Were it brighter, were it less frigid, they would hear voices by now. Looters, people exploring, others looking for salvageable supplies... But it is not, and she's quite happy to be alone - just the two of them where the world can melt away and their troubles seem less heavy for at least a time.
"I think I'd like your gophers. At home, they were always so cute, and when they chirped my cousins just about went berserk. It reminds me of springtime at the estate. Much better than birds."
She smiles just for him, letting that fire blaze in those amber eyes, letting her carmine lips twist into something so comfortable and at ease it would have been hard to believe just what they'd done to survive. This... This is what she lives for now - Asterion and Denocte and her court of dreamers with sweet Isra at their head.
@Asterion <3 ;u;
wishing someone could hear her, so loud
He's working up to something, the push and pull of his words draws her in, captivates her until she's nearly hanging off the edge of each one, until they are the center of the world which she revolves around, until he is all that she knows. There is no end nor beginning nor middle. His story simply is. Oh, and the phoenix can feel how he forces light into those dark spaces that threaten to overcrowd and dilute all things pure and sweet and good, how he ignites a flame and keeps it burning despite everything that tells him otherwise, pushes him towards those shadows creeping nearer and nearer, hovering like some meddlesome siblings just waiting to pounce. When he slows, when he pauses, she can almost see the ghosts of his dancing before them, pirouetting and waltzing through the snow without a care in the world - after all, they are dead now anyway. But it is not the end to his torrent of words.
Were his voice a tsunami she gladly would have drowned, thrown herself body and soul into the riptide just to hear him speak again, to hear the gentle intonations rise and fall with the beating of his heart. Thankfully, it is not so fearsome as that, nor as destructive, yet it still leaves her feeling incomplete when he's silent.
"That means...."
She muses, unaffected by his announcement. Although, if she's terribly honest with herself she thinks he makes for a dashing king. Weight, that burden he's worked up to, is finally laid bare and she cannot help but grin like the Cheshire cat despite their conditions and the states of their peoples.
"That means, Asterion, that you should be able to find me something sugary and sweet to share ! You can't let a lady eat something so scrumptious alone, after all."
Throwing a harmless wink his way, she giggles once more and finds her way to his side as they come to the edges of Denocte where buildings are crumbled from the waves and storms that battered them not so long ago and only flowers are left to mourn the dead. Were it brighter, were it less frigid, they would hear voices by now. Looters, people exploring, others looking for salvageable supplies... But it is not, and she's quite happy to be alone - just the two of them where the world can melt away and their troubles seem less heavy for at least a time.
"I think I'd like your gophers. At home, they were always so cute, and when they chirped my cousins just about went berserk. It reminds me of springtime at the estate. Much better than birds."
She smiles just for him, letting that fire blaze in those amber eyes, letting her carmine lips twist into something so comfortable and at ease it would have been hard to believe just what they'd done to survive. This... This is what she lives for now - Asterion and Denocte and her court of dreamers with sweet Isra at their head.
@Asterion <3 ;u;
