WITH SWORD AND SALT -
When Isra brushes her lips across Marisol’s cheek, it is a kiss filthy as dirt and sweet as cherries and it makes her heart constrict in her chest like it is trying to contain the fist she’s put it in. Military as ever, she hides her smile fully. But something deep inside her trembles and twists, and she’s not quite gathered enough to keep a little shudder from riding partway up her spine. (She’s not sure she even cares now.)
Isra’s smile is fleeting and gorgeous and it makes Marisol think (too quickly) of how it feels to fly. The white sparkle of the stars, clouds swirling against the true-blue of the sky, and the way cool air rushes like water into the tiny spaces between her feathers and lifts her wings so high - it is ridiculously familiar. She thinks then of Asterion, and how he asked her what it was to fly, and almost feels foolish for not saying it feels like this.
She watches the Night queen with dark, dark eyes, shining like moons from the soft blackness of her face. Marisol’s gaze is always bright - scintillating and flickering in the light with all the rapidity of liquid quicksilver - but this is something different. something watchful and intensive. It’s beautiful, she says, and that in itself is not a lie. But what she doesn’t say - that it could never be hers. no matter how hard she tried - is much, much truer.
Honest she is, but for all her honesty the Commander is not so foolish - or so cruel - as to inflict pain where not strictly necessary. So she swallows her qualms and looks around the room, trying to fall into the magic of the night and the lights and the music and not into the black hole swirling against her ribs.
Maybe, she answers, and a mischievous smile twists at the corner of her lips. (On Marisol it is almost as good as a laugh.) Will you miss us, when we leave? And she gestures sort of sheepishly to the emblem of a setting sun marked on her flank in red paint, so bright and so bold it could not be mistaken for anything but a sign of loyalty.
But- and she thinks about this often - the paint itself is fragile - only her willpower, but a gossamer thread, now, keeps her from washing it off.
<3
Isra’s smile is fleeting and gorgeous and it makes Marisol think (too quickly) of how it feels to fly. The white sparkle of the stars, clouds swirling against the true-blue of the sky, and the way cool air rushes like water into the tiny spaces between her feathers and lifts her wings so high - it is ridiculously familiar. She thinks then of Asterion, and how he asked her what it was to fly, and almost feels foolish for not saying it feels like this.
She watches the Night queen with dark, dark eyes, shining like moons from the soft blackness of her face. Marisol’s gaze is always bright - scintillating and flickering in the light with all the rapidity of liquid quicksilver - but this is something different. something watchful and intensive. It’s beautiful, she says, and that in itself is not a lie. But what she doesn’t say - that it could never be hers. no matter how hard she tried - is much, much truer.
Honest she is, but for all her honesty the Commander is not so foolish - or so cruel - as to inflict pain where not strictly necessary. So she swallows her qualms and looks around the room, trying to fall into the magic of the night and the lights and the music and not into the black hole swirling against her ribs.
Maybe, she answers, and a mischievous smile twists at the corner of her lips. (On Marisol it is almost as good as a laugh.) Will you miss us, when we leave? And she gestures sort of sheepishly to the emblem of a setting sun marked on her flank in red paint, so bright and so bold it could not be mistaken for anything but a sign of loyalty.
But- and she thinks about this often - the paint itself is fragile - only her willpower, but a gossamer thread, now, keeps her from washing it off.
<3
![[Image: ddg6quy-9d15dab5-339c-4b09-8b57-20a99fda...jvUop12efQ]](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/c175b84a-409b-40aa-8b86-49ed65b989ee/ddg6quy-9d15dab5-339c-4b09-8b57-20a99fda550e.png?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcL2MxNzViODRhLTQwOWItNDBhYS04Yjg2LTQ5ZWQ2NWI5ODllZVwvZGRnNnF1eS05ZDE1ZGFiNS0zMzljLTRiMDktOGI1Ny0yMGE5OWZkYTU1MGUucG5nIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.j-t9RuUsmMyaVL-O1rvZqbyyPYdOvtjHLjvUop12efQ)
