and who cares if i'm coming back alive
so what, at least i had the strength to fight
too much, too much, too much, too much
is never enough
so what, at least i had the strength to fight
too much, too much, too much, too much
is never enough
Her breath was shudders of icy glass shards piercing the thin veil of her lungs; winter swirling in flurries of white dust around her ankles. A cocoon of stardust blanketed her, like a the thin cropping of frost covering the ground beneath her hooves. The silver shimmer enveloping her in a kiss, before dissipating into nothing as the first rays of sunlight broke across the horizon. Winter was here, a promise of snow and pink cheeks, chapped lips and the craving of warmth under thick furs. The sleepy dawn was a quiet beast, a yawning mistress of color that broke the spilled ink of the night sky in splotches. What little sun drops shone in the morning chased away the stars, not with the telltale spring of birdsong but with shivers dancing along spines. An all-consuming cold that settled into one's bones and stayed like a second shadow, only to be tamed by burning pyres and drink. As if the world itself had frozen, a time capsule, a hush of breath between moments. The collective intake before a star bursts into a brilliant supernova. This was the world she reveled in.
Slumber has long since failed her; Calligo blessing her with eternal nightfall and the passion hidden in gathering shadows instead of dreamlands. Her eyelids grow heavy with sandman's dust in the bright blue of her orbs. Pure exhaustion will soon pull her under, drowning in restlessness.. but not yet. For now, she wanders, an obsidian ghost floating in the glittering mist draped across the meadows stretched out before her.
Her hooves carry her through frost-kissed earth and pines, before she enters a never-ending sea of hills. She breathes slowly, puffs of ivory floating skywards from her nostrils. A touch of a smile barely pulling her lips upwards as her eyes find the pale sun peaking over the edge of the world. A warm hello, as sunlight catches stray strands of her hair and turning them into silver. Tears prickle at her eyes, either from the cold or the tug of a once-broken heart hidden in her ribs, she does not know. Instead, she blinks away those tears, forbidding them the justice of falling, and focuses on the tinkle of coins around her throat. A soft musical sound that sings to her, cutting through the silence of morning.
Much like the voice that catches in the dawn; a voice that brings with it the sound of waves breaking on cliffs and flowers coated in salt tears.
Aislinn.
Her name is a hushed breath floating in the air to her ears, catching on lips and full of so many things left unsaid. She knows without turning who's voice finds her in the breaking of day; the one who's presence lingers over her, who's flowers still haunt her dreams, and comforting touch still shivers like a phantom wing over her back. Aislinn is a whisper on the wind, the promise of stars in the coming night, and the thunder that roars in the eye of a storm. So unlike the girl that stands behind her now; a stark contrast to the ebony of her skin. Florentine, who held the heart of their beloved king, cloaked in gold and shimmer the color of the sun deepening into umber as dusk befell the heavens above. A young woman that was the opposite side of her coin; the sunset and night-blessed girls, forever chasing one another in the spindles of time. Her own heart still cracks as she recalls the sea spray splashing her as she fell towards the ocean below; still remembers the moment of betrayal that threw her into the underworld itself. She trusted this woman.. and then the truth was suddenly laid bare at her feet.
But whether she admits it or no, the stormsinger and the flower girl share twin hearts after all; together, they are more alike than she might ever know.
"Heavy lies the head that wears the crown," she breathes, somber, her voice a crackle of electricity across storm clouds. At last, Aislinn turns, a stormsinger who's soft gaze finally rises to meet a queen's; blue flames meeting amethyst gemstones. "Sovereignty lays a burden on your heart." She notes, that even now in the first touches of winter and snow, the flowers in her hair still blossomed. A spring goddess, defiant against the cold; the heavy perfume of lavender coating every inch of her lungs. She is a queen now; and still, Aislinn cannot deny that she is beautiful. Her breath catches, only momentarily, before her gaze tears sidelong and she instead stares into the shining white of the sun as it rises.
"Why have you come?"
@
"Aislinn speech."
