CYRENE
the monarchs flew free;
yet they circled around her.
As the winter’s night proceeded to darken into a velvet swathe of twinkling onyx, the embers of Terrastella’s moonlit festival erupted into the merry, wine-fed flame it was destined to be—and Cyrene felt her blood thrum with its song. Lion eyes danced with wonder as she admired the groups of elegant, painted bodies flitting past her like butterflies, quicksilver and bright under the hazy glow of paper lanterns. How they shimmered like the stars in their gowns and silken finery. As for myself… She glanced down at the aurum constellations that coated her wings and withers in a twisted sort of opulence. A bitter smile cast a shadow across her visage, settling into the curves of the girl's elfin frame. How could she forget—for her beautiful golden scars shimmered just as bright.yet they circled around her.
The wood fairy’s steps were as light as autumn's whisper as she moved lithely through the cavorting crowd, and crimson petals drifted softly from a wreath of red poppies atop her curls. More flowers lay in a bundle between her wings—in her astonishment at the grand bouquets available in the middle of winter, she’d purchased far too many blooms to tuck into her windswept locks. (She had tried—and it hadn’t been very flattering, to her immense disappointment.)
Cyrene was on her way to the castle when a perfect solution to her flowery predicament arrived in the form of a bright-eyed, raven-haired youth. Feeling a tug on her feathers, she’d looked down in utter surprise at the little boy who refused to meet her amber gaze. "Miss, I—I… wanted to tell you that you’re very pretty. Your wings, they almost glow under the light!” A cherry-tinted flush climbed into the yearling’s cheeks, as hushed jostling sounded from behind a particularly tall patch of grass. Nonetheless, a demure smile remained steadfast upon his rosy lips. With a light chuckle, Cyrene stretched a wing to affectionately ruffle the boy’s head of dark curls.
How adorable he was, and Cyrene’s heart flushed with warmth as a smile, bright and true, sighed back into its rightful place. Before she knew it, her hooves clicked against cobblestones as she stepped eagerly into the court’s grand keep. The crowds were especially thick inside, as noblewomen and stable boys alike walked in joviality among the variety of booths lining the lantern-lit walkways. Lion eyes skimmed through the stands until they landed on the one she sought—if her knowledge was correct, the heart of Terrastella was where one could paint blessings into their skin, sealing fateful bonds with ink and prayer.
So absorbed was she in examining the endless assortment of paints and designs, that she hadn’t noticed him at all until a light bump pulled her swiftly away from her pondering. The girl's startled gaze landed into depths of molten brown, overflowing with warmth—and just a splash of liquor’s dizzying hold.
It must’ve been the sense of ease that radiated from him like a quiet revolution, for Cyrene’s lips could not help but quirk warmly towards him in jest.
@Asterion | eep this was long but had to set up the scene xD
