your heart is a wild thing
made of stardust and thunder and hurricanes
made of stardust and thunder and hurricanes
She was toeing the edge of the fall, adrenaline pumping through her veins as grief sent waves of shivers down the length of her spine. The crashing sea below her sprayed sea foam against the heavens that reached like fingers towards the starry sky. Each roar of the fathoms mirrored her heartbeats, racing and thundering and completely mad. The smooth silk of her mane fluttered around her, her wings slowly unfurled as the ocean breeze tugged at each feather, tempting the drop. But she was wracked with sadness; her sorrow turning every part of her into a bleeding heart. Her wounds now open and raw as each word the spring-touched girl rubbed fresh salt into the place where her heart had once been whole.
Her hooves slipped against the smooth stone edge, pebbles falling beneath her weight as she balanced above the ocean blue.
Tears stained the planes of her face as her orbs blinked at her, at Florentine. Her grief is palpable, but the gold-dusted girl's anger is a lioness. She is no longer a spring goddess kissed by those lovely lavender blossoms, but instead a child who's temper flares with the stomp of one delicate hoof. Aislinn has underestimated the girl, for yes, that is what she was. Young and inexperienced, her emotions uncontrolled.
I cannot vouch for Reichenbach, but I had no idea there was anyone else who loved him.
The stormsinger's own fury began to rage; swirling and building with every wave that broke along the cliff face below her. She was a hurricane made woman, a thunderstorm crafted into flesh and bone. Night-blessed as the stars that touched the silk of her wild mane and as wild as a tsunami in summer. Stepping forward, she almost closed the distance between them, wanting to shake the girl until she reached reason, understanding. Even a shred of knowing how the agony that tore through every part of her could have brought her to her knees. But instead, she roared, tears blurring the girl of gold as her frustration bubbled brighter. "Ask him," she shuddered, her rage barely contained by the bone cage of her ribs as she spoke, "ask him what he felt when a storm had ravaged at the edge of the sea."
The careful dam of moonstone and adamant she had built to keep her memories at bay cracked under the weight of her ache. Aislinn's throat tightened as the memories played before her eyes. No longer did she see the girl that held the heart of her king with tender-loving hands; no longer did she see the cliff's edge that dried her endless tears. Lightning flashed across the sky above her in swords of white light, bruised clouds rolling across an angry sea as a gathering of stormchildren stood on the edge of the world. Their skin tasting summer's tears as the chaos sent shocks of electricity down their skin in blissful shivers. Then, almost as fleeting as lightning itself, she was atop of the mountain peak, with a sea of opalescent stars shimmering so close that she could reach out and touch them. Her king praying to their beloved mistress of Night, as she stood with everything she had wanted to say just barely breathed onto her lips. Her heart, at that very moment, shattering into tiny glass shards with no hope of mending.
Did you think there could be another heart involved when you fell in love with Reichenbach?
Florentine's words pull her out of her misery, but only for a second before her emotions cool, sinking deeper into shadows. She shakes her crown, her legs trembling with each strong wave of emotion burning through her muscles; a hurricane battering against a helpless shore. Aislinn averts her gaze, the fiery blue of her eyes dulled, barely embers of the glowing light that normally turn her orbs into daggers. "I blame myself for falling in love with him," she admits, her voice barely a whisper above the sounds of the sea, "he knew me. I saw all of the signs, and for what?" Her question hangs in the air between them as the wind tangles the necklace around her throat. The coins and feathers of her heritage tinkling with the beats of her heart. "I don't blame him for loving you."
No.. who indeed looks out for the hearts of others when you are falling in love… I, for one, did not.
Her frustration is a beast biting at the chains of silver she has so tiredly tried to tame it with; each shake of her crown against the girl's words breaking another link of the tether. She steps forward forward forward, boring her gaze into the young girl's of deep violet, her heart breaking as she notices the beautiful flecks of orange hidden there, like little gemstones of colored dusk. Tears staining her blue flames in red as she silently searches her gaze for understanding. "I blame our king, for playing two hearts when he knew he could love only one," she says, her voice crackling like thunder as her heart bleeds with each word.
She turns, swift and brutal, as she steps closer to the edge, the sea calling her name like a lullaby. The beating of waves a song that could lull her into a deep slumber, where maybe, this encounter could have been a dream. But as Aislinn toes the edge, her hooves slipping against the damp stone — the same stone that soaks in every one of her tears — as her wings taste salt and brine. Slowly, she cranes her neck to look back at Florentine, her eyes taking pictures of how she nearly glows in the night with her skin of milk and honey, and the blossoms that fall all around her like a curtain of spring. A sad smile tugs at one corner of her lips as her ears fall to the wayside, wings curling closer to her body. "Ask him. Then you'll know.. then you'll understand."
She slips, her body giving in to the weight of the fall as the wind rushes all around her, cocooning her in sea spray and the touch of night kissing the ocean. Eyes closed, the stormsinger relishes the adrenaline pumping in her veins, a most welcome high that burns through the grief laced through her blood and bones. The ocean rushes up at her, a wall of salt and depthless fathoms that threaten to swallow her whole until she snaps her wings open, pulling upwards as her hooves dance across the surface of the sea. With each pump of her wings, Aislinn floats in the night sky, her mane glowing against the backdrop of stars her goddess has so beautifully created. Her grief a monster, her anger a beast chomping at the chains she holds it with, as she flies towards her home, her kingdom. His court.
Leaving the gold-kissed girl atop the cliff, Aislinn's voice is a whisper on the sea breeze; barely audible, possibly a dream. A wish made on the falling stars of her tears..
Hold his heart well.
..and then she is gone.
@
"Aislinn speech."
