Full beautiful—a faery’s child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.
He accuses her of being a ghost and at first she only smiles. She looks a little like a ghost, then, or maybe a china doll, smooth-cheeked and guileless; and hasn’t she felt a little like a ghost, these past months-into-years? Hasn’t she been nothing more than a phantom in the forest, pale as the fog and gold as the last crease of sunlight before darkness?
But perhaps Aster is tired of being a ghost. She meets his wary eyes and doesn’t look away as she kicks out viciously with one hind hoof. A reflection of the pair of them shatters with the sound of a star crumbling. Within her magic whispers, and the bits of glass and star-stuff drift slowly as feathers to the ground.
“Am I a ghost, Leonidas?” she says, half-taunting, and her heart beats faster in her breast. Don’t forget me, it begs, don’t forget me, but there is no fear or concern in her expression - only interest, a little disdain to match his own dismissiveness.
The pieces hung suspended like diamond dust drop at once when she advances on him. Aster presses her cheek against one of his budding tines hard enough to dimple the skin. “Do you want to cut me and make sure I bleed?”
@Leonidas | <3
