f l o r e n t i n e
I used to think as such - until I made a home within myself.
His words capture her attention and her gaze falls from the star-strewn sky to fix upon his eyes. But they offer her no balance, no place to ground herself. Like the black between the stars, they pull Florentine in and she feels herself falling and falling. At his words she wonders if she should fall so deep as to find the home he made for himself, within himself.
It is only with surprising effort that she pulls herself back, that she pushes her eyes away from his – the purple of dusk, not yet ready to give in to the black of night. “Is that not lonely? Keeping yourself so enclosed?” She asks, and she thinks she is falling again, tumbling into the chasm of his eyes. Maybe she never resurfaced… A shiver trembles and slides its way through her body.
He does not give Flora a chance to know whether she is falling or not, for his eyes snap back to hers. Black, black, black is all she feels, all she knows, and another shiver ripples down her spine like lunar light. This time, she holds his gaze, defiant. Yet there is not a cold, hard line in her eye. No, she is instead bold - as colourfully painted as the setting sun and with its fierce fire she holds Lothaire there.
She feels every second of the lifetime his silence holds her in. Creeping fingers, like old age, crawl across her skin. Time drags out and for once she fears it. Her lips open, for her heart is frantic and the water is rippling with her shivering wings…
But then, oh then he speaks and time suddenly starts again. He pulls her on with his words, back to a world that drifts idly by. It is certain, rhythmical, monotonous in its passing. There is a scream in her throat that does not come and does not sound, but oh it cries out as loud as loud can be. This is not her Time, this world is so wrong without her dagger’s power. She needs its power back. She needs it.
The cold gravel of the emissary’s voice grates against her too-sensitive skin. But she relishes it for his words. She drinks them in as though they were fine liquor. Upon them she hangs and lets them draw a smile from her lips, at last. “You could never listen too closely or hope too much.” The dusk girl says and she would laugh at the cliché, were it not for the fierceness of her belief. Were it not for what she saw.
“Yes, I have seen them.” She says and the wildness of the sun returns in her voice. It returns to play across the water, to call to the stars – that sea of celestial space that drifts on and on and on. Back and back and back the stars stretch until only Time sees fit to stop them. She lifts her eyes to them, her smile now blissful, now lost in a tide of memory that has her floating, drifting. “Worlds of gods, of creatures that have no name - who are so fantastical not even our imaginations could create them! Worlds of lands that shift with ancient magic, lands that fall apart and bend before such wild, wild magic…” She trails off, thoughtful, dreamlike, her soul ascending into the void of space.
But it is grounded by the silver of her trembling dagger.
In silence it rises from her breast to glint softly, sadly in the silvery light. “This once parted worlds for me. With it, I could open a window to any world, any place, any time you yearned for. It could take me anywhere…” For time has space for everything. She does not say.
“When I find its power again, I will take you... If you wish.” She breathes her offer in silver, starlight smoke.
@Lothaire
this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
His words capture her attention and her gaze falls from the star-strewn sky to fix upon his eyes. But they offer her no balance, no place to ground herself. Like the black between the stars, they pull Florentine in and she feels herself falling and falling. At his words she wonders if she should fall so deep as to find the home he made for himself, within himself.
It is only with surprising effort that she pulls herself back, that she pushes her eyes away from his – the purple of dusk, not yet ready to give in to the black of night. “Is that not lonely? Keeping yourself so enclosed?” She asks, and she thinks she is falling again, tumbling into the chasm of his eyes. Maybe she never resurfaced… A shiver trembles and slides its way through her body.
He does not give Flora a chance to know whether she is falling or not, for his eyes snap back to hers. Black, black, black is all she feels, all she knows, and another shiver ripples down her spine like lunar light. This time, she holds his gaze, defiant. Yet there is not a cold, hard line in her eye. No, she is instead bold - as colourfully painted as the setting sun and with its fierce fire she holds Lothaire there.
She feels every second of the lifetime his silence holds her in. Creeping fingers, like old age, crawl across her skin. Time drags out and for once she fears it. Her lips open, for her heart is frantic and the water is rippling with her shivering wings…
But then, oh then he speaks and time suddenly starts again. He pulls her on with his words, back to a world that drifts idly by. It is certain, rhythmical, monotonous in its passing. There is a scream in her throat that does not come and does not sound, but oh it cries out as loud as loud can be. This is not her Time, this world is so wrong without her dagger’s power. She needs its power back. She needs it.
The cold gravel of the emissary’s voice grates against her too-sensitive skin. But she relishes it for his words. She drinks them in as though they were fine liquor. Upon them she hangs and lets them draw a smile from her lips, at last. “You could never listen too closely or hope too much.” The dusk girl says and she would laugh at the cliché, were it not for the fierceness of her belief. Were it not for what she saw.
“Yes, I have seen them.” She says and the wildness of the sun returns in her voice. It returns to play across the water, to call to the stars – that sea of celestial space that drifts on and on and on. Back and back and back the stars stretch until only Time sees fit to stop them. She lifts her eyes to them, her smile now blissful, now lost in a tide of memory that has her floating, drifting. “Worlds of gods, of creatures that have no name - who are so fantastical not even our imaginations could create them! Worlds of lands that shift with ancient magic, lands that fall apart and bend before such wild, wild magic…” She trails off, thoughtful, dreamlike, her soul ascending into the void of space.
But it is grounded by the silver of her trembling dagger.
In silence it rises from her breast to glint softly, sadly in the silvery light. “This once parted worlds for me. With it, I could open a window to any world, any place, any time you yearned for. It could take me anywhere…” For time has space for everything. She does not say.
“When I find its power again, I will take you... If you wish.” She breathes her offer in silver, starlight smoke.
@Lothaire
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
