ISORATH
It was refreshing, though Isorath would of preferred to come up with a more befitting description. For how could one describe the feeling of ice thawing within their breast, to make way for those fragile strands of tenderness that lay within the frozen prison as refreshing? Lured by Reichenbach's presence, cautious nerves soothed by the threads of trust the other had woven. A sun in his own right, his fires made to warm rather than burn.
Isorath had kept many of his softer emotions under lock and key, jealously guarded for fear of having them torn from him completely. Lulled by jasmine and woods moke, gently coaxed by the rich depth of the voice that spoke to him.
Just once seemed the mantra of the night. The King of Smoke and Shadows would not shatter such a fragile thread, one would not so carelessly invoke the wrath of a broken man made of sun and dragonfire.
A delicate ear tipped forward, intrigued by the difference. The Sage had heard Reichenbach's laughter many times, within the halls of the Court and on the breeze, an echo in the night. It was thunder, the crack of wood in the fire, the roll of the tumultuous waves in a storm. This was not so much like the boom he had come to know. Curiosity threaded itself onto his features as he committed the sound to memory, ringing in his ears like the echoes he heard from his chambers and the library. Briefly he wondered if he might get a chance to hear it again.
"A game." Isorath sang back silkily, neck curved in an elegant arch so he might gaze at his guide. He is not immune the eyes which are drawn to him, an all too familiar prickling of his skin sings it to him sweetly, and the scales upon his iridescent hide shift and preen beneath the attention. Yet, his eyes remained on Reichenbach, a deliberate and silent declaration that it is he who has the Kirin's attention this night. In the low light he glows, coal with embers within it's chest, the shadows dancing off of the stone walls and silken hangings dance as he passes. Gripping to him effortlessly only to let him go reluctantly, like a lover forced to say goodbye. How could they even think they could draw his gaze?
If Isorath saw the deadly smile, razor sharp upon dark lips, his face did not betray it.
Lilac's are soon drawn to where molten silver lingered, if only briefly, before they were drawn back to the strong and rugged lines of the monarch's face as his question finally escaped into the night air.
Why did you leave Vectaeryn.
Isorath paused beside his companion, drawn closer to the body heat rolling off of the stallion's frame. His eyes did not leave Reichenbach, not for a moment as they ran over chiselled lines and strong brow. Quietly mulling over his answer. "Because I was curious, young and foolish." He exhaled softly with an even softer laugh, his warring mind giving out as the words flowed carefully between them. "Not many of us choose to leave our homeland, too many risks. Slavers, Kings and Nobles with harems to fill and Dark Practitioners that would use us in their rituals. There have been many Taeryn over the ages who have disappeared traveling outside our home. But for Royals, we are forbidden." The Prince paused, sparing a small glance away before it returned. "I would spend days of my youth listening to merchants, travelers and sailors tell tales of the land outside of Vectaeryn. Naturally, I became infatuated with a life I could not have, could not experience. I was hot headed, stubborn and had all these grand ideas that if I could leave, I could do something great. I was a Prince of Vectaeryn, after all, what harm could the world do me?" He cannot hide the bitterness that slowly began to thread into his words, porcelain hooves shifted against the stone before he willed himself to continue.
"But by law, I was forbidden to leave. I could of tried to board a ship, but I would of been dragged back to the Palace by my tail. So I waited, there's an event in our capital every five years, called the Crucible. The one who wins it can request a boon from the King, and they will grant it. My brother and sister tried to tell me not to do it, my mother forbid it. But I entered anyway, and I won. I demanded the right to leave, and I did." That was that, at least for the start of his life away from the safety and comfort of everything he had known. So focused he'd been on answering the question he had almost forgotten about the silver chain until Reichenbach moved toward him, pastel gaze drawn to the charm adorned jewelry silently awaiting permission.
Part of him is glad that no one can see the flush that heated up beneath his skin. His surprise is harder to mask, written clearly in the by the flare of his lashes, and the way his serpentine tail coiled around a leg. "Of course." Isorath retorted softly, once he'd managed to catch himself, lowering his head enough to allow the precious piece to find a home within his tines. Isorath was no stranger to gifts, but this one, the simple beauty of it — the one who gifted it to him — set it apart from the decadent jewels of his other collection. "How does it look?" The sage asked after a moment, head tilted just a fraction to the side to peer up at the King.
Realizing it was also his turn to ask a question, he settled for one that was near similar to the one asked of him. "What was growing up like for you here?"
TAG: @Reichenbach — nooo your replies are lovely and never late <3
It was refreshing, though Isorath would of preferred to come up with a more befitting description. For how could one describe the feeling of ice thawing within their breast, to make way for those fragile strands of tenderness that lay within the frozen prison as refreshing? Lured by Reichenbach's presence, cautious nerves soothed by the threads of trust the other had woven. A sun in his own right, his fires made to warm rather than burn.
Isorath had kept many of his softer emotions under lock and key, jealously guarded for fear of having them torn from him completely. Lulled by jasmine and woods moke, gently coaxed by the rich depth of the voice that spoke to him.
Just once seemed the mantra of the night. The King of Smoke and Shadows would not shatter such a fragile thread, one would not so carelessly invoke the wrath of a broken man made of sun and dragonfire.
A delicate ear tipped forward, intrigued by the difference. The Sage had heard Reichenbach's laughter many times, within the halls of the Court and on the breeze, an echo in the night. It was thunder, the crack of wood in the fire, the roll of the tumultuous waves in a storm. This was not so much like the boom he had come to know. Curiosity threaded itself onto his features as he committed the sound to memory, ringing in his ears like the echoes he heard from his chambers and the library. Briefly he wondered if he might get a chance to hear it again.
"A game." Isorath sang back silkily, neck curved in an elegant arch so he might gaze at his guide. He is not immune the eyes which are drawn to him, an all too familiar prickling of his skin sings it to him sweetly, and the scales upon his iridescent hide shift and preen beneath the attention. Yet, his eyes remained on Reichenbach, a deliberate and silent declaration that it is he who has the Kirin's attention this night. In the low light he glows, coal with embers within it's chest, the shadows dancing off of the stone walls and silken hangings dance as he passes. Gripping to him effortlessly only to let him go reluctantly, like a lover forced to say goodbye. How could they even think they could draw his gaze?
If Isorath saw the deadly smile, razor sharp upon dark lips, his face did not betray it.
Lilac's are soon drawn to where molten silver lingered, if only briefly, before they were drawn back to the strong and rugged lines of the monarch's face as his question finally escaped into the night air.
Why did you leave Vectaeryn.
Isorath paused beside his companion, drawn closer to the body heat rolling off of the stallion's frame. His eyes did not leave Reichenbach, not for a moment as they ran over chiselled lines and strong brow. Quietly mulling over his answer. "Because I was curious, young and foolish." He exhaled softly with an even softer laugh, his warring mind giving out as the words flowed carefully between them. "Not many of us choose to leave our homeland, too many risks. Slavers, Kings and Nobles with harems to fill and Dark Practitioners that would use us in their rituals. There have been many Taeryn over the ages who have disappeared traveling outside our home. But for Royals, we are forbidden." The Prince paused, sparing a small glance away before it returned. "I would spend days of my youth listening to merchants, travelers and sailors tell tales of the land outside of Vectaeryn. Naturally, I became infatuated with a life I could not have, could not experience. I was hot headed, stubborn and had all these grand ideas that if I could leave, I could do something great. I was a Prince of Vectaeryn, after all, what harm could the world do me?" He cannot hide the bitterness that slowly began to thread into his words, porcelain hooves shifted against the stone before he willed himself to continue.
"But by law, I was forbidden to leave. I could of tried to board a ship, but I would of been dragged back to the Palace by my tail. So I waited, there's an event in our capital every five years, called the Crucible. The one who wins it can request a boon from the King, and they will grant it. My brother and sister tried to tell me not to do it, my mother forbid it. But I entered anyway, and I won. I demanded the right to leave, and I did." That was that, at least for the start of his life away from the safety and comfort of everything he had known. So focused he'd been on answering the question he had almost forgotten about the silver chain until Reichenbach moved toward him, pastel gaze drawn to the charm adorned jewelry silently awaiting permission.
Part of him is glad that no one can see the flush that heated up beneath his skin. His surprise is harder to mask, written clearly in the by the flare of his lashes, and the way his serpentine tail coiled around a leg. "Of course." Isorath retorted softly, once he'd managed to catch himself, lowering his head enough to allow the precious piece to find a home within his tines. Isorath was no stranger to gifts, but this one, the simple beauty of it — the one who gifted it to him — set it apart from the decadent jewels of his other collection. "How does it look?" The sage asked after a moment, head tilted just a fraction to the side to peer up at the King.
Realizing it was also his turn to ask a question, he settled for one that was near similar to the one asked of him. "What was growing up like for you here?"
TAG: @Reichenbach — nooo your replies are lovely and never late <3
