a king walks among us
He flinches at the soft touch against him, resisting the urge to gore, that is not allowed here, oh no, but when he sees the young winged thing that trails feathers down his rigid form he relaxes, enough, closing his eyes for a moment before she whispers to him to look up, up, up. Great black orbs take in the great wide blue. ”None of this matters. Not you, not me. Only the sky and the breeze and her songs.” He breathes into her words like there is no other air for him to drink. The black king yearns to nest among her feathers like a hatchling in a nest or a newborn swathed in blankets. A shiver runs down his spine, recalling her touch, already, and he looks down to her, so pale and shining and small. His affect is dull and blank but El Rey says, ”Thank you.”
His gaze does not part from her. She is all the comforts of his nurse, for all her wild grinning he can only think of her as maternal and something of her brings him back to the cellar.
He would rather be huddled in darkness than lost in the sky above. But he is darkness, and she is light, so light. ”You are very soft,” he says, though the statement does little to encapsulate the sensation of being huddled in a mother’s arms and just as strangely in the arms of something he does not quite understand. ”Your wings are lovely, also. Like a bird’s,” for El Rey’s greatest love in this new world above are the creatures and plants that flourish within it.
@
”in blood the blade, to its golden hilt, I’ll drown,“
I pledge you now, to death they all are bound,
