f l o r e n t i n e
It seems Florentine was not the only creature enchanted by this day’s dawn eagle.
Through the cathedral of living pillars, crowned in green and gold light, the eagle drifts like magic might.
It is as her heart begins to beat, in time with those great wings, up, down, thump, thump that she hears the forest come alive…
It had been slowly rousing, stirring with soft rustlings and humming with soft birdsong, but so suddenly it was speaking and moving – no, running!
The Dusk girl turns from her fleeing bird and for a moment, a too slow moment, she wonders if the bird knew of some danger that the forest was about to unleash upon this little clearing she had found.
And yet, it is just a boy who charges towards her with eyes up cast and limbs so keen. He, like her, is scattering petals and fluttering wings. Blushing rose and wild flowers dumbfound her as she stands quite still, for here this creature is, with a bird tugging at his wild mane, with eyes so bright as he still searches for their fleeting eagle.
They are both too busy staring, one down and the other up, that neither but his own small bird, gives any thought to their impending crash of petals and feathers.
It is Ipomoea who at last listens to the frantic call of his wise friend and with tangling limbs and flying dirt, he finally stops, barely a foot, from the wide-eyed girl. Forest matter clings earnestly to her skin; her throat, her chest, her face all splattered with the dirst kicked up by the Dawn boy’s impressive skid.
Their shared appearance, tousled and now dirt ridden, does little to take away from the grandeur of this moment. The forest seems pleased with this union – a thing of warm summer sun and flowers – as it breaks into a song of rustling leaves, buzzing bees and wild, bird song.
The boy steps closer and her eyes glow brighter, amethyst blazing through gold dawn mists. A wing, honey gold and tipped with sunset orange, extends out for his perusal and his touch, should he choose, for Florentine was never shy of contact. Her lips curve into a smile, not for her own wings, but for his. Upon his slender ankles they rise, hummingbird small but so dove soft. They open and close for her eyes like butterfly wings, starting an ache in her heart for her own lost companion: Flutterby Butterfly.
Those lips of hers, dusk soft, curl ever more as he compares her to an eagle and it is with longing that she thinks of the creature they both just saw. “Oh no,” the twilight girl sighs, “I could never be so fierce, nor so elegant, but I thank you all the same.” With a laugh, both gracious and shy, the girl dips into a curtsey, wings flared.
“But yours!” An orange wing tip points down towards his ankles. “Now those, I have never seen before.”
It is with effort that she lifts her amethyst eyes from his wings to join with his rose red gaze. “I am Florentine, Emissary of the Dusk Court. Won’t you tell me your name?”
@Ipomoea His is just so adorable!
this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
Through the cathedral of living pillars, crowned in green and gold light, the eagle drifts like magic might.
It is as her heart begins to beat, in time with those great wings, up, down, thump, thump that she hears the forest come alive…
It had been slowly rousing, stirring with soft rustlings and humming with soft birdsong, but so suddenly it was speaking and moving – no, running!
The Dusk girl turns from her fleeing bird and for a moment, a too slow moment, she wonders if the bird knew of some danger that the forest was about to unleash upon this little clearing she had found.
And yet, it is just a boy who charges towards her with eyes up cast and limbs so keen. He, like her, is scattering petals and fluttering wings. Blushing rose and wild flowers dumbfound her as she stands quite still, for here this creature is, with a bird tugging at his wild mane, with eyes so bright as he still searches for their fleeting eagle.
They are both too busy staring, one down and the other up, that neither but his own small bird, gives any thought to their impending crash of petals and feathers.
It is Ipomoea who at last listens to the frantic call of his wise friend and with tangling limbs and flying dirt, he finally stops, barely a foot, from the wide-eyed girl. Forest matter clings earnestly to her skin; her throat, her chest, her face all splattered with the dirst kicked up by the Dawn boy’s impressive skid.
Their shared appearance, tousled and now dirt ridden, does little to take away from the grandeur of this moment. The forest seems pleased with this union – a thing of warm summer sun and flowers – as it breaks into a song of rustling leaves, buzzing bees and wild, bird song.
The boy steps closer and her eyes glow brighter, amethyst blazing through gold dawn mists. A wing, honey gold and tipped with sunset orange, extends out for his perusal and his touch, should he choose, for Florentine was never shy of contact. Her lips curve into a smile, not for her own wings, but for his. Upon his slender ankles they rise, hummingbird small but so dove soft. They open and close for her eyes like butterfly wings, starting an ache in her heart for her own lost companion: Flutterby Butterfly.
Those lips of hers, dusk soft, curl ever more as he compares her to an eagle and it is with longing that she thinks of the creature they both just saw. “Oh no,” the twilight girl sighs, “I could never be so fierce, nor so elegant, but I thank you all the same.” With a laugh, both gracious and shy, the girl dips into a curtsey, wings flared.
“But yours!” An orange wing tip points down towards his ankles. “Now those, I have never seen before.”
It is with effort that she lifts her amethyst eyes from his wings to join with his rose red gaze. “I am Florentine, Emissary of the Dusk Court. Won’t you tell me your name?”
@Ipomoea His is just so adorable!
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
