“Let us step into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure.”
Toro takes her down a strange path. She travels down his words and through the glitz covering both of them. Isra travels back to the sea, where the weak do not die. When she blinks everything is black and dark and her lips taste not like wine but like salt. Around her leg that rusted chain quivers finely but the song it sings is drowned in the quiet roar of the crowd.
Isra wants to tell him that he's already in such a place. She wants to tell him that chains make weak things strong (or it kills them). There are a hundred words of metal and teeth hanging on her lip. She could tell him a million places in which weak things are made to be strong. Fable flashes her an image of a shell and she understands that hope, cages and eggs all create strength from hollow space.
Instead of all the things she wants to say, she only closes the distance between them. She takes his cup with a clever and quick pull of her inherent magic. Then she's brushing their shoulders together.
Fable is thinking about tugging on some of the golden fabric covering Toro. Isra stops him.
The marble at her hooves is already turning to sapphire and she thinks Toro might have had enough strangeness for one night.“Follow me.” She says before she dissolves into the crowd, hoping he's motivated at the very lest to follow his cup.
Isra never tells him which wonder she might make for him.
@El Toro
