to feel that we exist, even though in pain
♠︎ ♕ ♠︎
“Shocking, isn’t it?” At the mention of his popularity, August turns his expression into one of wounded pride, complete with a long-suffering sigh. “Nobody seems to think I can tolerate the cold.”
It’s not until she turns away that his silver-eyed gaze goes keen again, watching her free her hair from each gleaming golden pin. Wearing them she looked like a warrior, like a princess, elegant control with a sharp reminder of danger. Without them, with her hair pale as summer wheat in a cascade down her neck, she became a girl.
Well, she is a girl, he reminds himself, as she tucks the final slender, sharp pin away. She is all those things. But August, who prides himself on remembering everything, chides himself now for forgetting, and for the way his heart skips a beat as the last of her golden locks comes tumbling free.
Summer-boy he is, August has always seen the beauty in everything (and everyone). Of course Aghavni is no different.
Outside he breathes deeply, a bracing pull of winter air that dispels his earlier comment and shocks his brain and mind into wakefulness. It is not his favorite season, but it does make the nightly bonfires all the warmer, their smoke the richer, and the stars through that hazy blanket are bright and sharp as pin-pricks. Everything is clear and the moonlight gilds the city in pale silver. Where she is uneasy - not that he can tell - August feels alive.
But he does not forget her disquiet, and nods when she answers. “He’s always trusted you,” he says, but there is a crease between his brows as he continues. “But I’m sure he’s…busy…lately.” An understatement, given the situation in Solterra (and how torn August is, over that - he will never forget watching his mother slain, never forget the cruel desert sun slashing through the bars of a prison-wagon, never forget how the desert country was nearly his jail). If he were Senna…
Well. That was a dangerous game to play.
He is grateful for the distraction of the castle. It is so easy, in Denocte, to tire of wonders - the dragons, the graceful castle itself, the bonfires and markets and the breathing sea - but this reminds him that there is magic in the world, that he is lucky to witness it. Like her he only stands, breathing great plumes of silver, drinking in each turret and window. August doesn’t turn to his companion until she laughs, and when he does it’s with a laugh of his own, a sound of joy and wonder, a bell that hasn’t often been rung since he was a boy.
“I won’t pinch you, if you do the same for me.” Wonder has turned her back into a girl, too, and he feels for a moment like they are fairy-tale children, like tonight is a story just for them. And like Aghavni he doesn’t want to remember the tense set of her shoulders, the worry she couldn’t hide. August only wants to explore this quiet miracle.
“Come on,” he says, and bumps his shoulder against hers. “My lady’s castle awaits.” And with a grin and a flick of his tail against her side he steps away, heading for the wide archway to pass into a setting from a dream, all gilded by the full moon.
@Aghavni | it's the yeast you could do
