The sea rolled its idle way up the shore, reaching for passing feet, reaching for shells and rocks and sand. It toyed with the sunset girl this day, rolling in so fast to pull the sand away beneath her feet. It would then recede so slowly, softly hissing its way back out into the ocean deep.
Along the damp, damp shoreline Florentine drifts, the sea breeze tugging at the long strands of her mane as it sings to her, whispering into her ears and calling her out into the waves. The twilight girl wonders what song it would truly take to make her leave this shore, what beautiful voice could ever convince her to leave a mortal life. A shiver dances up her slender spine, reaching its chilly fingers out across her sun-warm skin.
With sea salt lungs the girl moved on, each breath a song of sea and sun. It is upon the horizon that she first sees the night boy. Lumaris glints like an evening jewel, his body dark, dark navy – a heart drawn out from the living sea. Upon his skin it is the gold that blinks and glints beneath the wild warm sun.
He is a treasure to be found and across the sands the dusk girl goes, her amethyst eyes fixing upon this curious new boy. Blue antlers, lanced with fire red and fire gold, protrude from his poll, rearing up and up, like upturned thorns, into the skies above.
The flower girl, with petals loose upon the winds, takes her time as she watches him. It is a fault she still has, to linger, to watch so brazenly, so openly. It is a fault she does not yet realizes she possesses, but maybe this is merely because none have ever pointed it out. For so genuine, so easy is her perusal, so full of awe her amethyst eyes, that it may feel quite easy being admired so. Or maybe it is quite simply, that none have ever wished to cause this girl offence…
Whatever it is, whatever reasons have been kept from her, Florentine continues to study the boy before her.
Her gaze tumbles from the curve of his rump, rolling down the gold chain upon his tail, only to rise and trail the lines, and their dots, upon his skin. Only when she reaches his eye of fire and might, does the girl speak. “Well,” Florentine breathes as much at ease in her simple honey body as he in his ornate one, “aren’t you beautiful.”
Florentine says to the song of the breeze, the fall of lilac petals from her honeyed hair. Through her fringe, thick and wild, her eyes begin to gleam. “You smell of jasmine and moonlight.” She says gently, her eyes falling aaway at last. “Tell me, how is the Night King?” The Dusk girl awak asks, even as she moves to walk with him, even as their hair tangles in their eyelashes, even as the sea rushes up to wash their steps away.
@Lumaris - Dark does lovely starters, no apologies needed ;) <3
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
