I S O R A T H Isorath will be the first and last to declare he is a vain creature, as all creatures crafted in porcelain and inlaid with gold are. They thrive upon the adoration, the stolen glances laced in awe and reverence, and utterly delight in those which radiate fires of desire. To see such warmth in Reichenbach's eyes, there's little to wonder that the Kirin visibly preens at such attention. It's mirrored in his draconian gaze, the pastel hues glittering around as slitted pupil as they regarded molten silver knowingly. The sight of the shadows intrigued him, drew his gemmed gaze to the wispy tendrils which tried to reach forward, out from beneath the sanctuary of the King's charcoal curls. Not for the first time, he feels the chasm in his chest where magic should sit, jagged and aching. Where is the smoke of dragonfire wisping in his nostrils, and the fires of the cosmos eminating from his porcelain skin? How quickly one could be snatched from the Cliff's Edge. I hope not. Florentine's voice is a voice he knows well, the coolness, the softness. Softer and finer than Silk. He's mastered such a thing himself, polite decorum in the face of the stinging, hissing uncertainity skittering beneath the skin. Isorath's crowned head tilted with a regal air to his Sovereign, all divinity and taught grace, as all Taeryn are. Her words provoked an equally soft and musical laugh to escape his pale maw, and a look of resolution slides across his face as a sharp smile also took it's place upon his features. "There are few, if any, who could pull me from my task. I'm much too in love with my duties, Lady Florentine, and the finery it brings." Her companion received a different look, the Prince's gaze is observant as it finally rested upon him, while his ears soaked in his words. Handsome, his mind supplied with a leisured shrug. "Reichenbach and I knew each other before Florentine granted me my new position." He explained as his gaze flicked back to the Night Sovereign out of politeness, and then back with a beat of snow lashes. "Those of us from my land are not so rigid and restrained in our mannerisms. Friendships and Courtly necessities fair much better when we're all having fun, no? Frowns and polite awkwardness are rather boring. I would sooner throw myself into a pit of vipers than endure a gathering filled with it." His sharp smile remained fixated upon his all too delicate features. He is not so prepared, but perhaps she should of been, for the candid, scathing remark which sounded from the King of Thieves. A silvery brow rose, it's fine scales twinkling in the low light. Isorath had grown up dealing with underhanded remarks and quips, and handled them with artful precision and flippant comments. True to form, he cannot help but step in, both for his own pleasure and simply for the sake that he can. Something appraising settled darkly in his lilac hues as he observed Lysander. "Ah, but he is handsome enough for me. Perhaps Lysander would like to be my escort to the festivities this evening, so the lovebirds may look ravishing together." TAG: @Reichenbach @ ;D "isorath talks" |
