We'll leave this empty room, into the air we'll climb
"Might you be able to assist me?" Foreign words slip from his tongue. They taste heavy, their weight pulls his ashen labrums down like an anchor. His companion is chiseled from delicate opal. Explosions of pastel vibrancy decorate their tresses. Elegant scales scatter across their pale back. He imagines they breathe worlds while they slumber. His dreams writhe, his imagination coils to strike. Stories are quickly woven by the poet, taking the two of them to unimaginable worlds. His lanky, pale configuration glows with warmth beneath the honeyed lamps. Aerie is a luminous figure; a fleeting fae. His eyes adjust to the shadows quickly. A smile forms on his porcelain visage. It is quiet; soft. It is nearly imperceptible. Aerie ravenously hunts the stories of Delumine. Of worlds unknown; treacherous. Each inhale bestows promises of these tales he mercilessly hunts. Aerie feels the muscles of his facade tighten; his smile grows wider. Aerie is no hunter.
He hopes his companion is. They bleed pastel aesthetic. A kirin. Aerie feels the weight of his nape lighten, excitement flits in bursts through his configuration. Stories churn like smoke. They fill his skies quicker than he anticipated. He need only pluck one from the array of them to satisfy his hunger. Aerie has nearly forgotten his original intent here. He wonders if Delumine will appreciate her foreign-born child. His eyes sweep over their adeptly molded frame. Whoever has designed this creature was an artist whose work consisted of only masterpieces. This pregnant pause transitions into an awkward silence. Rose lenses sweep downward. He is not shy, usually. "I wonder if these pages breathe for you? Delumine buries the secrets she's whispered in these depths. I believe the very creation of her existence is carefully guarded here." These words spill from his mouth, saturating the atmosphere. Honeyed light flickers over the pair of ghosts.
Aerie gazes upon the opal creature with wonder. His rose lenses sparkle in the dim light. "Perhaps, this ghost seeks a story for you. The story of the Opal Dragon and the Ghost." Aerie offers with a mirthful laugh. The sound echoes through the dark rows of ancient texts. Lether holds no mirth. His levity is absorbed into the dusty, ancient pages. "I'm Aerie, the storyteller." He introduces himself in dulcet tones that blend into the setting. "Or perhaps, the Opal Dragon might like to hear a story?" His eyes crinkle until they become crescent moons. Rose lenses still twinkle with unbidden excitement. His lithe frame stands at attention for his companion. The opal dragon breathes stars into the sky of stories that canvas his sky. Aerie whispers fondly to his companion; the fondness that comes with eons of friendship. It is his nature. His love is boundless; inclusive. The entertainer anticipates his companion's response.
He hopes his companion is. They bleed pastel aesthetic. A kirin. Aerie feels the weight of his nape lighten, excitement flits in bursts through his configuration. Stories churn like smoke. They fill his skies quicker than he anticipated. He need only pluck one from the array of them to satisfy his hunger. Aerie has nearly forgotten his original intent here. He wonders if Delumine will appreciate her foreign-born child. His eyes sweep over their adeptly molded frame. Whoever has designed this creature was an artist whose work consisted of only masterpieces. This pregnant pause transitions into an awkward silence. Rose lenses sweep downward. He is not shy, usually. "I wonder if these pages breathe for you? Delumine buries the secrets she's whispered in these depths. I believe the very creation of her existence is carefully guarded here." These words spill from his mouth, saturating the atmosphere. Honeyed light flickers over the pair of ghosts.
Aerie gazes upon the opal creature with wonder. His rose lenses sparkle in the dim light. "Perhaps, this ghost seeks a story for you. The story of the Opal Dragon and the Ghost." Aerie offers with a mirthful laugh. The sound echoes through the dark rows of ancient texts. Lether holds no mirth. His levity is absorbed into the dusty, ancient pages. "I'm Aerie, the storyteller." He introduces himself in dulcet tones that blend into the setting. "Or perhaps, the Opal Dragon might like to hear a story?" His eyes crinkle until they become crescent moons. Rose lenses still twinkle with unbidden excitement. His lithe frame stands at attention for his companion. The opal dragon breathes stars into the sky of stories that canvas his sky. Aerie whispers fondly to his companion; the fondness that comes with eons of friendship. It is his nature. His love is boundless; inclusive. The entertainer anticipates his companion's response.
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