He doesn’t see the way nervousness clings to her like a second skin, how her smile seems less and less sure of herself. He’s too caught up in unraveling the riddle, and the way his heart races and skips in his chest.
There’s something about Denocte that brings out a new sense of excitement within him, wholly different from the easy comfort he finds back in Delumine.
Clever, she calls him, and his smile is shy but proud. “It’s a pleasure to be here,” he replies in earnest, and together they walk to the great doors. ”A lot to discuss indeed.” Already his mind is painting a picture from memory of what it was like the last time he walked these halls, when a Crow was a King and the gypsy smoke was thick with spice. But this Isra is not Reichenbach, and there’s a mystery to be had behind those doors. He wonders if it’s like the rest of Denocte: some things still the same, other things not-quite what they were.
There was only one way to find out.
The doors part with a groan, and darkness greets them, but he’s unafraid. It’s the Court of Dreams, after all, and it’s only ever greeted him with welcome arms before. Willingly, he steps into the night behind her.
hearts are breaking
wars are raging on
you’ve got me nervous
i’m right at the end of my rope
hey, man, we can’t all be like you
i wish we were all rose-colored too
my rose-colored boy
@isra ! annnd this thread is officially closed
”here am i!“
