SO WILL THE HAPPINESS  Today had been the day he received confirmation of Rosti's release - and his own. The concerns of ruling a Court had worn heavy on his wild haired head for too long, his wildfire had begun to burn too hot, too fast... for the King of Shadows had a fearsome temper, much like the deity he worshipped. The stress of Rostislav's capture had melted like hot butter at the first sight of his warden, seething and bloodthirsty, upon the mountain pass. There were political matters that would need to be discussed... preventative matters, concerns with inter-court relations, other threats he might have ignored... but those could wait. Denocte was a wild court, a free one - and tonight their King was unburdened and carefree. He grinned at those surrounding him, drinking in the sight of his lively people as if it were the richest wine, he held a booming laugh at the tip of his tongue or behind his white teeth at all times, releasing it often and freely. Music thundered and whistled and flames crackled, Calligo and her shadows melting in every crooked grin and empty pocket with a charming smugness. Reichenbach shined underneath the stars, grasping them in the gleam of his midnight curls and the reflection of his argent eyes, catching them and keeping them as he grinned and teased, choosing to forget the worry and regret as he had done for much of his life. She catches him, though. It's only a slight glimpse of violet in the corner of his eye that tells him it's her - he's memorised that shade and named it hers forever. Almost in slow motion he feels his great head turning to gaze at her, face pausing for a moment as he truly registers that the dusk girl is here, that his dusk girl was here. His face broke into a great grin, vibrant and full of a fragile light that lingered with the true, pure joy of his rapture for her. The flames danced about her, lifting the light, honey soaked hairs of her mane as if pulling her in, closer, closer. Stars above, she looked beautiful against the firelight. He made his way through the crowd, gliding rather than walking, his vast chest clearing a path with ease. As he moved he memorised her, the planes of her delicate face, the fierce innocence that trembled upon the flawless lines of her frame, subtly smelled the air in the hope to get a whiff of her crushed petal scent. He arrived. All woodsmoke, jasmine and stars. All wildfire and passion. He answered her silent question with one of his own: Have you kept mine? @ |
