pointing at the sky, we yell and swell
Antiope’s eyes linger on Aghavni’s fine features; on the purse of her pouting pink lips and her eyes, as bright chips of emerald as the Regent’s own are sapphire. She smiles, a quick, gleaming thing and says, “You are memorable.” What she wants to say is that she remembers the way light reflects off the champagne hue of her skin, and the way her voice curls over words like something royal.
She doesn’t. Instead she says, “Only your own grace gives you away, even when you hide it under such a mask as that.” Their eyes meet, as Aghavni looks up at her from under a curtain of delicate lashes and eyes with feline wit and keenness. Antiope recognizes such edge, like looking at her reflection in the smooth glassy surface of Vitreus lake. She thinks, however, that Aghavni wears it better—less like a hungry predator.
She follows Aghavni down the shadowed path without so much as a need to ask, fitting in behind her as the dim lights in the maze seem to all but disappear back where they had been standing. It is only them, and the night, and the maze, as alive around them as such a thing can possibly be.
She can almost feel the the stalks reaching out, eager to brush along her sides and shoulders like hands in the dark.
The path feels like some strange entrance to another world, like they will reach the end of it and it will open up into a place that is no longer Denocte, no longer a corn maze out in the middle of the prairie.
Aghavni’s voice drifts back to her like on a breeze, gently, languidly, but she catches the gleam of a smile thrown over her shoulder toward the Regent as she speaks. If there is anyone else in the maze, Antiope cannot say. If there is anyone else in the world, she cannot say she cares.
“And what,” she asks, perhaps leaning forward a little too far as she crouches beneath the wayward stalk, perhaps purposefully brushing her nose across Aghavni’s hip as she straightens her neck, though she doesn’t seem to address it. Still, her eyes are bright and ardent, even in the dark, “Does this night have in store for the two of us, lady Aghavni?”
against the rising of the sun
Antiope’s eyes linger on Aghavni’s fine features; on the purse of her pouting pink lips and her eyes, as bright chips of emerald as the Regent’s own are sapphire. She smiles, a quick, gleaming thing and says, “You are memorable.” What she wants to say is that she remembers the way light reflects off the champagne hue of her skin, and the way her voice curls over words like something royal.
She doesn’t. Instead she says, “Only your own grace gives you away, even when you hide it under such a mask as that.” Their eyes meet, as Aghavni looks up at her from under a curtain of delicate lashes and eyes with feline wit and keenness. Antiope recognizes such edge, like looking at her reflection in the smooth glassy surface of Vitreus lake. She thinks, however, that Aghavni wears it better—less like a hungry predator.
She follows Aghavni down the shadowed path without so much as a need to ask, fitting in behind her as the dim lights in the maze seem to all but disappear back where they had been standing. It is only them, and the night, and the maze, as alive around them as such a thing can possibly be.
She can almost feel the the stalks reaching out, eager to brush along her sides and shoulders like hands in the dark.
The path feels like some strange entrance to another world, like they will reach the end of it and it will open up into a place that is no longer Denocte, no longer a corn maze out in the middle of the prairie.
Aghavni’s voice drifts back to her like on a breeze, gently, languidly, but she catches the gleam of a smile thrown over her shoulder toward the Regent as she speaks. If there is anyone else in the maze, Antiope cannot say. If there is anyone else in the world, she cannot say she cares.
“And what,” she asks, perhaps leaning forward a little too far as she crouches beneath the wayward stalk, perhaps purposefully brushing her nose across Aghavni’s hip as she straightens her neck, though she doesn’t seem to address it. Still, her eyes are bright and ardent, even in the dark, “Does this night have in store for the two of us, lady Aghavni?”
![[Image: 13716916_Rc8f5hGvZkB3cYP.png]](https://file.toyhou.se/images/13716916_Rc8f5hGvZkB3cYP.png)
a war is calling
the tides are turned
the tides are turned
