A I S L I N N
THE STORMS WE CHASE ARE LEADING US
AND LOVE IS ALL WE'LL EVER TRUST -
AND LOVE IS ALL WE'LL EVER TRUST -
Under the setting sun, the stormsinger is a painted statue in a river of revelry. Her lips form his name, over and over, as Vespera graces their heavens in watery pinks and gold. The colors shine and reflect off of the ice that coats the capitol city as if the city itself was made of crystalline glass. But it is her heart that glimmers and waits — a fluttering, caged bird in her chest. Just as fragile as the icicles that fall on stone ledges, and as frail as a baby bird in one's hands. The stormsinger is vulnerable, but rightfully so. She wishes with each breath that falls; the thunder in her building higher still until her nerves nearly burst.
She does not yet realize that her wishes will come true.
His voice finds her in the pulse of music, sweeter than milk and honey. A calm wind that cools the chaos of her storm. But it is his smile that melts her fragile heart. And she cannot help but smile in return; so so softly, as she turns and her blue orbs fall upon his handsome face.
I missed you.
Her orbs immediately find the galaxies of his own; blue fires meeting the abyss of deep space. He is just as she remembered; with kisses of dusk woven in the silver shocks of his mane, and the shimmer of Vespera's colors flirting with the curves of mahogany skin. But now, those twilight dreams are accentuated by the twirls of paint along his body. Like her, he has been pledged. A girl of storms and starry skies, and a boy of day dreams and setting suns.
Her breath is no longer glass shards piercing the thin veil of her lungs, but of crisp night air. And for the first time in many moons, she feels like she can truly breathe again. For the whisper of his name is no longer hidden in the curve of her mouth — but spoken with a weight of longing that rises with the blush hidden in the dark of her cheeks. Her first true breath is the murmur of his name made tangible on her lips. "Asterion."
Can he see the whorls of longing and hope in the bright blue of her eyes? Can he see the soft curve of her lips that tilt ever higher with each beat of her heart? Can he see how her knees wobble and shake at his words? She is melting. Hopelessly, wondrously melting under the deep chocolate of his gaze. A gaze that pierces the crowds that part around her and find her in the midst of reverie. The breeze of her relief is a wash of warmth that chases away the cold that curls along the painted curves of her skin. And just like those golden fireflies that danced with them under Calligo's stars, her goddess brushes her coat in a gauze of stardust that shimmers as bright as her happiness.
Before, she was Cinderella with a broken heart — running away, leaving nothing but phantom glass slippers in her wake. No note, not even a whisper on the wind. She had been a ghost in the wake of her emotions. Her cowardice from that night has haunted her ever since, just like the darkness that grows within the cage of her ribs. But now, the nebula of her heart collapses and shines brighter than a burning star. She cannot — will not — leave him. Not again, not ever.
Will you join me? This night is too lovely to waste.
Asterion's words are a testament to that summer night they had met, and her heart swells at the memory. Forget me not. For she has finally found him — her twilight prince. He did not forget. He did not forget. And her heart flutters, flutters, flutters. Wild and free and no longer bound in her ribs, but jumping into her throat with butterflies. The shiver that trails down her spine chases away the claw of darkness inside her; because now, her own bliss overtakes the demon. Aislinn's smile is bright, and together they are the compliments of twilight and nightfall eternal. Her words are cinnamon and sugar on her lips, and the whispers of a night dancing with fireflies until the first rays of daylight broke. "Always."
Suddenly, she pulls him into the crowd; her wing outstretched to accompany them both in the surge of festival goers and music and embers flying skywards. She laughs, a raspy, musical sound that shakes free from her lips like a child's innocent bliss. The courtyard opens around them, and the drums beat against her heart, her lungs, her skin, until she spins. Her hooves are so so light; lighter than the air that vibrates around her. The heat of the bonfires burns, but she is dancing, and he is with her, as she pulls him closer into the center of the crowd.
She does not hesitate as her lips graze his cheek like an unspoken promise. It is only him and her, and their faerie tale. "I missed you too."
And for the second time, she prays that their night will never end, and the sun will never rise.
She does not yet realize that her wishes will come true.
His voice finds her in the pulse of music, sweeter than milk and honey. A calm wind that cools the chaos of her storm. But it is his smile that melts her fragile heart. And she cannot help but smile in return; so so softly, as she turns and her blue orbs fall upon his handsome face.
I missed you.
Her orbs immediately find the galaxies of his own; blue fires meeting the abyss of deep space. He is just as she remembered; with kisses of dusk woven in the silver shocks of his mane, and the shimmer of Vespera's colors flirting with the curves of mahogany skin. But now, those twilight dreams are accentuated by the twirls of paint along his body. Like her, he has been pledged. A girl of storms and starry skies, and a boy of day dreams and setting suns.
Her breath is no longer glass shards piercing the thin veil of her lungs, but of crisp night air. And for the first time in many moons, she feels like she can truly breathe again. For the whisper of his name is no longer hidden in the curve of her mouth — but spoken with a weight of longing that rises with the blush hidden in the dark of her cheeks. Her first true breath is the murmur of his name made tangible on her lips. "Asterion."
Can he see the whorls of longing and hope in the bright blue of her eyes? Can he see the soft curve of her lips that tilt ever higher with each beat of her heart? Can he see how her knees wobble and shake at his words? She is melting. Hopelessly, wondrously melting under the deep chocolate of his gaze. A gaze that pierces the crowds that part around her and find her in the midst of reverie. The breeze of her relief is a wash of warmth that chases away the cold that curls along the painted curves of her skin. And just like those golden fireflies that danced with them under Calligo's stars, her goddess brushes her coat in a gauze of stardust that shimmers as bright as her happiness.
Before, she was Cinderella with a broken heart — running away, leaving nothing but phantom glass slippers in her wake. No note, not even a whisper on the wind. She had been a ghost in the wake of her emotions. Her cowardice from that night has haunted her ever since, just like the darkness that grows within the cage of her ribs. But now, the nebula of her heart collapses and shines brighter than a burning star. She cannot — will not — leave him. Not again, not ever.
Will you join me? This night is too lovely to waste.
Asterion's words are a testament to that summer night they had met, and her heart swells at the memory. Forget me not. For she has finally found him — her twilight prince. He did not forget. He did not forget. And her heart flutters, flutters, flutters. Wild and free and no longer bound in her ribs, but jumping into her throat with butterflies. The shiver that trails down her spine chases away the claw of darkness inside her; because now, her own bliss overtakes the demon. Aislinn's smile is bright, and together they are the compliments of twilight and nightfall eternal. Her words are cinnamon and sugar on her lips, and the whispers of a night dancing with fireflies until the first rays of daylight broke. "Always."
Suddenly, she pulls him into the crowd; her wing outstretched to accompany them both in the surge of festival goers and music and embers flying skywards. She laughs, a raspy, musical sound that shakes free from her lips like a child's innocent bliss. The courtyard opens around them, and the drums beat against her heart, her lungs, her skin, until she spins. Her hooves are so so light; lighter than the air that vibrates around her. The heat of the bonfires burns, but she is dancing, and he is with her, as she pulls him closer into the center of the crowd.
She does not hesitate as her lips graze his cheek like an unspoken promise. It is only him and her, and their faerie tale. "I missed you too."
And for the second time, she prays that their night will never end, and the sun will never rise.
@asterion -flails- ♡
"Aislinn speech."
