I'm only honest when it rains,
An open book with a torn out page,
And my ink's run out.
I want to love you but I don't know how.
An open book with a torn out page,
And my ink's run out.
I want to love you but I don't know how.
He wasn’t there.
It was a steady mantra, a repeating litany of jumbled mess that just didn’t make sense, echoing in her skull and bouncing around the sides of a mind numb with disbelief. By the time that she had reluctantly turned her back on Delumine, disappointed, subdued, angry, late-winter had begun and the Sun Daughter had nearly wasted an entire season looking for him.
Yet he wasn’t there. Why wasn’t he there? What had happened?
Spite had kept her from seeking out Delumine’s new flower-king, or anyone else of their court. For all of their knowledge, they could not provide her with the answers she sought. Israfel had situated herself in their little homestead holed up in the forests and spent weeks searching for Ulric, but her efforts had been fruitless.
Rage and exhaustion intermingled when golden hooves touched down in Terrastella, her chest heaving as her body sagged in the snow, the alabaster of her coat stained grey with rivulets of sweat. She hadn’t stopped, a fire burning hot and dangerous in her breast that wouldn’t permit her to along her journey home. Anger replaced sleep, heartache replaced food and water. It was not the first time that Israfel had lived off of spite alone and it surely wouldn’t be the last.
Pulling her wings close as though to shield herself from the stark chill of winter's grasp, the Regent of Terrastella straightened on unsteady, trembling legs. Vermilion eyes burned as they stared out across the landscape, the stone citadel of the Capitol looming just on the cusp of the horizon. It was close. The winding streets of her home diverged around her and she knew their paths like she knew her own heartbeat. Being here upon these familiar cobblestone lanes was familiar and she welcomed its familiarity without question.
All thoughts of him were shoved back into the darkest parts of her mind, and with a great, heaving puff of air that emerged like mist from flaring nostrils, Israfel started the slow, unsteady trek towards the citadel, desperately yearning for her private rooms and a hot drink.
’I’m home,’ she whispered in her mind, and even through their mental bond Israfel knew that Solaris would pick up on her exhaustion. It wouldn’t be long until the Phoenix had returned to her side, as she had left Solaris here to keep an eye on Charlie, the court, and to keep the homefires burning.
Gentle concern entered her mind like a lover’s sweet kiss, and bleary vermilion eyes blinked slowly in response. Solaris’ crisp, curt voice filled her mind only a second later, the concern growing tenfold as the Phoenix felt her fatigue. I’m on my way. Warm yourself, child.
Another puff of breath escaped her and Israfel nodded even though her companion wasn’t there to see it. “I need a fucking drink.” And preferably a hot body to share it with.
Anyone is welcome and encouraged to help Israfel unwind from a Bad Time! :D
