so darling, darling stand by me
ohh stand by me, stand by me
ohh stand by me, stand by me
His words are a nip of frostbite on her skin; cold and numb, as she momentarily stiffens at the shock of it. She retreats, pausing, as the blue of her gaze searches the stranger's face. For a moment, she wonders why; her curiosity is that of a child, just barely, but enough for her to stay. He was a statue of a painted marble to her, and the sudden icy demeanor of his should have been enough for her to realize that she was not wanted here. The silence that grows between them only stretches and expands — a pregnant galaxy of stars that hang on the edge of their collective quiet.
But yet, she does not turn away.
It's like the skies have come alive on you tonight.
Aislinn is bound by the snowflakes that slowly fall, and the darastic change in the silver man before her. Confusion settles upon her like the stars dusted in shocks of color across her frame. She cannot help but feel drawn; be it from the soft shifts of snow that weep from the clouds above, or the mysteries of this man at her side. All she has gathered is this — his voice, and the magic that has been painted over her in hues of Asterion's twilight and Calligo's beloved shadows. If she had been graced with her mother Luna's moondust instead of the ebony dark of deep space, the stormsinger's blush would not be hidden on her cheeks. Instead, she thinks of the stars trailing her spine, as she averts her gaze downwards and finds the whorls of color on his own skin. How simple it could be, that the canvas of their bodies have become an outward mirror of their souls on this night.
The galaxy between them has begun to close, and with it, she speaks, suddenly bold. "I am not the only wonder they have painted." Her voice is surprisingly soft, careful, as she stands wary of the hidden emotions in his icy gaze. The warmth that sticks to her skin despite the cold tastes of woodsmoke and sugar and beating drums like fingers that send gooseflesh down her legs. They are so very close to the fray. But yet, together they could be no further than light years away from the crowds that pulse in the embers of burning pyres and song. What is she to do, but wait with a cautious hand outstretched?
Surely you have somewhere better to be tonight?
Her heart constricts against the rose vines that entwine it; bleeding against the pin-pricks of longing that are the thorns. The falling sun reminds her of her lover, her prince.. and a dagger of want and daydreams twists in her chest. But courage has not found her, and she cannot find the strength to face him. Not on this night. So she turns to him fully, admiring the colors splashed across his chest and shoulders, and meets the ice of his eyes with the flames of her own. If he turns her away, so be it.. but for now, she reaches out a phantom hand. An offering, as the corner of her lip curls ever soft as the snow that floats around them. "But I am not alone," she notes, "you're here. Unless.. unless, you are waiting for someone."
They are strangers, and yet, she cannot find it in herself to walk away.
@aion bloop ♡ I'm so sorry for the awfulness, this is all over the place D:
"Aislinn speech."
