CYRENE .
per aspera ad astra
“I was going there anyways.”
Stemming the amusement from her too-bright eyes as best she could, Cyrene tried in vain to fix a stern pout upon unruly lips as the boy shook frigid clods of snowmelt every which way, the majority conveniently aimed her way.
They fell like spring raindrops against her crimson skin—gentle and teasing. Hmph, is this how I am to be repaid for my precious cider? With a smooth flick of her wings, the girl leapt lightly back a few paces to evade his sneaky attack. Wild sable curls reluctantly settled in some semblance of order back around her doe-like neck, as she lifted a condemning eyebrow in his direction.
What a cheeky one.
“Do they have other drinks?”
"As much as your heart desires—though I’m afraid most are not as… innocent as cider,” she hinted, amber eyes dancing along the frost-stained earth until they rested amusedly on the forgotten, lonely cup. Though if it’s liquor he seeks, I will not stomp on his fun.
Lion eyes that glinted like honeyed mead smoothly surveyed the boy’s cautious attempts at flexing his newfound powers. As the whispering wind laced its bony fingers savagely through her silken feathers, Cyrene watched as his magic struggled like a fawn on ice, stumbling and skidding every which way until, at last, with a whoosh! the ill-fated mug flew up and over the barren cliffs.
"Perhaps by the end of the night you’ll wield it more expertly than I.” A muted smile pressed against upturned lips, as his endearing excitement saturated his emerald eyes like dawn’s shy ascent above night-soaked mountains. Keen eyes dimmed as they silently observed a shattered sliver of his stolen innocence tumble across the boy's solemn, time-worn shoulders.
She hoped he would smile more often. She prayed that destiny had taken enough from him.
"Then, let us go, Saoirse—I shall show you that the festival is leagues more enchanting than its rumors do it justice,” she sang, curls echoing her will as they bobbed along in agreement.
Yet as she caught the rest of his softly muttered words, Cyrene glanced away in solemn thought. Distractedly, her nebulous gaze rested upon something far, far away, her silvery voice lowering to an echo; as if what she murmured was not intended for Saoirse’s ears to detect. Not for anyone’s ears to detect.
"I have realized… that beginnings elude you when you need them most. So when they come, cherish them. The Fates are prickly goddesses—they will not serve you twice.”
An ever flickering flame, her composure returned to her between one breath and the next—and as Cyrene turned to him again, a bright, ebullient smile settled itself with a sigh upon her incandescent lips."The drinks must be cooling under our noses as we dawdle. Hurry along!”
Stemming the amusement from her too-bright eyes as best she could, Cyrene tried in vain to fix a stern pout upon unruly lips as the boy shook frigid clods of snowmelt every which way, the majority conveniently aimed her way.
They fell like spring raindrops against her crimson skin—gentle and teasing. Hmph, is this how I am to be repaid for my precious cider? With a smooth flick of her wings, the girl leapt lightly back a few paces to evade his sneaky attack. Wild sable curls reluctantly settled in some semblance of order back around her doe-like neck, as she lifted a condemning eyebrow in his direction.
What a cheeky one.
“Do they have other drinks?”
Lion eyes that glinted like honeyed mead smoothly surveyed the boy’s cautious attempts at flexing his newfound powers. As the whispering wind laced its bony fingers savagely through her silken feathers, Cyrene watched as his magic struggled like a fawn on ice, stumbling and skidding every which way until, at last, with a whoosh! the ill-fated mug flew up and over the barren cliffs.
She hoped he would smile more often. She prayed that destiny had taken enough from him.
Yet as she caught the rest of his softly muttered words, Cyrene glanced away in solemn thought. Distractedly, her nebulous gaze rested upon something far, far away, her silvery voice lowering to an echo; as if what she murmured was not intended for Saoirse’s ears to detect. Not for anyone’s ears to detect.
An ever flickering flame, her composure returned to her between one breath and the next—and as Cyrene turned to him again, a bright, ebullient smile settled itself with a sigh upon her incandescent lips.
@Saoirse | notes: love the way you write him <3
