She stands before the night, her eyes tracing the feline weave of shadows as they wrap about their king. Darkness commands her gaze and for a moment - for a long, enduring moment – Florentine watches them.
His eyes are the brightest things about him, they gleam through the darkness – stars that burn fierce and bright, luring the eye of the lonely, the needy, the whimsical.
Florentine threatens to burn within this boy’s starfire gaze. Reichenbach scolds every inch of her skin as his eyes wander over her. It is intimate, it is spellbinding and it leaves a blush of rose to colour her caramel skin.
He leaves her bereft, adorned in stardust where she should be little more than ash. Stardust upon her legs, stardust upon her eyes, stardust to cover every speck of dirt and foliage that clings to her skin and turns her feral.
His presence ignites her. His words disappoint her. “Oh,” She breathes, her eyes downcast, her breath soft, “that’s disappointing.” A smile lifts the corner of her lips, playful and yes, awash with their ocean of sadness.
This is not the girl whose heart he stole before the gods. This is not the temple girl so overwhelmed by their hurricane love. No, this is the girl of Dusk and bruising skies and new moonrises. He has come to her territory and whilst he still makes her heart beat its wild tattoo for him, whilst he still fills her heart with a grief so strong it steals her breath, the Dusk still curls about its feral girl easing some confidence into her being.
A toe digs into the dirt, it captures Florentine’s attention, it keeps her gaze from finding his skin, from learning every inch of it, for he was not hers to learn – was he?
The Night King was dangerous, the star around which she flew – a comet free and bright – and his pull was just too strong, each time she passed him, he pulled a little harder, she moved a little closer. She would not survive him.
“I thought you had come for something else.” The Dusk girl murmurs boldly, even as her eyes still watch the dust her toe disturbs. Her run has made her frivolous, the dusk light bold, too bold. She feels the crawl of the Dusk Court’s eyes upon her; her body, her soul, begins to shiver.
It is too easy, too simple to let her eyes lift to Reichenbach’s, to find his shadows breathing more, growing as the dusk light glows brighter. The night is growing, though dusk still reigns… “I cannot imagine she will say no.” Florentine says meaning Rannveig. Meaning an answer to a question he has not yet asked. They were still one love divided by duty, by religion. This is the girl who still said no, and yet, just for now, for this small moment, here with this boy of darkness and stars, she dares to burn.
The girl is wildfire this night and her soul blazes.
@Rannveig @Reichenbach - I feel so sorry for Rann walking in on this x'D
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
