we give everything for a glass of this,
we give our minds for a sip.
we give our minds for a sip.
S
he cannot know - does not know - the devastation to come, and so she smiles that tear-bright smile as Isra's nose presses against her own. As Eskimo kisses go, she rubs back and forth with all the gentleness of feathers on the wind, floating as though they are too light, too insignificant to matter yet possessing all the beauty of those dreams that fly, disconnected from everything but themselves. Their touches are reassuring, gentle things that ignite dreams and hope in her chest. Like a new spring, something soft begins to bud, begins to brighten and begins to bloom. Something more made for healing, something that cares. It is a creature she does not know, but a creature that the phoenix is almost eager to meet when so near a dreamer as the Queen of the land. "Until the end, and even after," she says, resolute.
Too soon there is a great expanse between them as Fable calls Isra away, a gap that grows and grows despite the glitter and gold on the ground, despite the dreams and hopes between them that are so new to their lives. It is a beast of inky depths that rears, separating them by more than steps. The healer does not see the hunger for war growing in her queen's eyes, does not feel it in their bond that is not something of a family, but something deeper. Before Isra disappears completely, Moira sends those phantom hands forth.
So careful is she to cup her friend's face, staying far from the wound upon her neck that is yet to be seen to. Phantom fingers try to push strands of hair back behind dark ears, and Moira smiles that rare, shy grin that only Isra really gets to see. "Hurry back to me, Isra. The night is longer when you are away." And the confession has never been more true, for the storyteller forces the darkness from the corners and cleans cobwebs from halls ripe with mildew and growing things that she'd rather not explore.
With that parting smile, Moira dips her head and lets her queen go, turns to the orbs that float and dance, to the wall of light that reaches higher than it had before. She smiles and watches it ripple, watches as fire takes hold from her imagination, watches as everything in the room begins to burn until it is as black as that raging emptiness within.
@Isra | "speaks" | notes: a smol closer <3 let's thread again soon my dear
