but we still got love to give,
The world was moving swiftly these days, swooping past him in a blur of shadows, honey gold hair and lilac eyes. While the threat from Solterra had dulled after Maxence's fortunately timed passing, The Night King still watched the desert kingdom with distrust — if they had been willing to start a war with Denocte at the bidding of an unblooded King, there was ample evidence to suggest they would do so again. He'd always respected the battle-hardiness of the Solterrans, had always nodded a head in their direction to acknowledge the strength and fierceness with which they held onto life... but bloodlust and warmongering against his people was something he would not tolerate.
It was just a matter of time now.
A matter of time before someone else took their move upon the chessboard. Would it be Dusk? With their newly crowned Queen? His thoughts stumbled over the sight of Florentine crowned, her honey-gold skin slick and smooth under the gaze of so many, her hair tumbling and wild and free... he'd scanned the crowd, standing beside her, silver eyes sharp as razors as he stared down any man that stared too closely, too intimately.
Shadows coiled around him lazily, appearing seemingly from his skin, stretching toward the altar before him. A sense of connection and release rippled through him as he gave his offering of wild-honey and night jasmine to Calligo, placing it before her altar as reverently as he did every month. Their Calligo, misunderstood and lonely, until now — now she had her Court, now she had him.
The Night Queen, leading her Night King down a path of stars. Reichenbach sighed through his nostrils, watching the altar through hopeful eyes, always waiting to see his Queen of Stars. She did not appear to him as a physical goddess, nor a creature made of stars and smoke — but he felt her there, watching with curious eyes from behind whatever veil the Gods deigned to sleep behind. She gripped his heart with her shadow wreathed fingers, gentle but firm, the knowledge that he was hers absolute and unchangeable.
He had not been born here, did not have generations connecting him to this earth (or so he thought), and yet she had kissed him as he left the womb. Whether it had been a blessing or a curse he did not know, to be kissed by Calligo and burdened with her shadows, her tempest. Yet it had led him here, skinny shouldered and ragged, his grin wicked and fierce, fingers sticky. It had led him to Aislinn, his stormsinger, and Araxes, his wisdom-keeper, to Seree and Rostislav and Camdis... to Florentine, to Isorath. All faces he cherished, despite the weakness it might pose to the outside realms.
A gentle breath of air left his throat, the shadows around his cheekbones fluttering curiously, waiting for Calligo to appear, or for something to happen. Nothing did. Yet his shadows remained, expanding and flowing as his argent gaze watched the altar, the taste of honey still staining his black lips from his offering. His voice resonated with music as he spoke;
"We'll meet one day... Queen of shadows."
ooc; worship thread, but open if anyone feels inspired!
