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 -
She is Calligo's night blessed magic and her prince's twilight girl; full of daydreams and hope and wishes made on falling stars. Together, they stand amidst the crowds of dancers and revelry that pulses at their sides. Music drums wildly along her skin, twining into her mane and singing to the untamed part of her she holds dear. But suddenly, they stop, entwined and so so close. She can feel the air above her dark skin vibrate with their proximity, and her eyes catch his lips, his face, his eyes. Aislinn only stares, with a longing that she cannot name. All she ever wanted stands before her now, and Asterion is here with her at last.
There's something different about you.
Yes. For the storm that has been at the heart of her has been coaxed awake with gentle, tender hands. She is a hurricane, a roar of thunder, a sword of lightning like shining starlight in a violet sky. She is a Child of the Night and Calligo's daughter, as stardust hugs the dark of her skin like a silver lover. And she is the calm after the storm, and its sweet, cool caress that kisses sea-ravaged skin in the aftermath of chaos. So much about her has changed, but also, nothing has changed at all. The storm of her had always been there, had always been a part of her. Slumbering, waiting. And now her power is awake, and beautiful, and wicked, and she cannot help but feel her newfound magic course through her veins and quake deep in her bones.
Yes, there is something different. But she is still her. And she can only smile; a soft, knowing smile that curls her lips in an unspoken promise. She simply did not know what to say, let alone breathe life to this new truth of her. His laughter is a musical sound that she clings to; that wonder, that happiness, that reverie. And she realizes then how much is loves to hear that sound.. and would do anything to hear it again.
Oh, Aislinn.. I was afraid..
Her heart swells and nearly bursts. His lips forming her name is like soft hands cradling a paper bird; fragile and careful and full of hope. She looks away, tearing her blue gaze to the stones that sway beneath her. Shame is a fickle thing that floods her and sends shivers down the length of her spine, coiling the muscles bunched under her skin. Aislinn did not want to leave.. she did not desire to depart in a flurry of frost and shadow when the snow first began to fall. She simply had to go.. and now, Asterion stands before her. And her absence has wrought fear into her twilight prince, and she is the sole cause of it.
She shakes under the falling snow, but not from the cold. "I'm so sorry, I—" Her breath catches, stopping short as unsaid words fall from her lips. A nameless emotion wraps around her heart and cradles it close, with hands sewn in colors of dusty rose and lavender and blue. The same colors that are painted across Asterion's mahogany skin, and shot through his mane in silver.
Even now, she still begs to Calligo that he is not a dream. That he is blessedly, wonderfully real, and not a whim that will disappear when the sun rises. And that emotion that holds the baby bird of her heart suddenly has a name.
She is Cinderella then, defiant in her own story as she leans forward. Her lips steal his own for a heartbeat, in a desperate need to prove that her prince is real. And oh, as her eyes flutter close, and blush rises beneath the dark of her skin, she realizes:
Yes. He is. Wonderfully and fantastically real, and not crafted from faerie tales but right here in front of her. And maybe now, just maybe, he can understand exactly what he means to her. How he has been forever tattooed into her heart, her soul, her being.
And the night falls away and it is only him and her under a sea of waking stars, as she pulls away and looks up at him with silver lining her eyes.
There's something different about you.
Yes. For the storm that has been at the heart of her has been coaxed awake with gentle, tender hands. She is a hurricane, a roar of thunder, a sword of lightning like shining starlight in a violet sky. She is a Child of the Night and Calligo's daughter, as stardust hugs the dark of her skin like a silver lover. And she is the calm after the storm, and its sweet, cool caress that kisses sea-ravaged skin in the aftermath of chaos. So much about her has changed, but also, nothing has changed at all. The storm of her had always been there, had always been a part of her. Slumbering, waiting. And now her power is awake, and beautiful, and wicked, and she cannot help but feel her newfound magic course through her veins and quake deep in her bones.
Yes, there is something different. But she is still her. And she can only smile; a soft, knowing smile that curls her lips in an unspoken promise. She simply did not know what to say, let alone breathe life to this new truth of her. His laughter is a musical sound that she clings to; that wonder, that happiness, that reverie. And she realizes then how much is loves to hear that sound.. and would do anything to hear it again.
Oh, Aislinn.. I was afraid..
Her heart swells and nearly bursts. His lips forming her name is like soft hands cradling a paper bird; fragile and careful and full of hope. She looks away, tearing her blue gaze to the stones that sway beneath her. Shame is a fickle thing that floods her and sends shivers down the length of her spine, coiling the muscles bunched under her skin. Aislinn did not want to leave.. she did not desire to depart in a flurry of frost and shadow when the snow first began to fall. She simply had to go.. and now, Asterion stands before her. And her absence has wrought fear into her twilight prince, and she is the sole cause of it.
She shakes under the falling snow, but not from the cold. "I'm so sorry, I—" Her breath catches, stopping short as unsaid words fall from her lips. A nameless emotion wraps around her heart and cradles it close, with hands sewn in colors of dusty rose and lavender and blue. The same colors that are painted across Asterion's mahogany skin, and shot through his mane in silver.
Even now, she still begs to Calligo that he is not a dream. That he is blessedly, wonderfully real, and not a whim that will disappear when the sun rises. And that emotion that holds the baby bird of her heart suddenly has a name.
She is Cinderella then, defiant in her own story as she leans forward. Her lips steal his own for a heartbeat, in a desperate need to prove that her prince is real. And oh, as her eyes flutter close, and blush rises beneath the dark of her skin, she realizes:
Yes. He is. Wonderfully and fantastically real, and not crafted from faerie tales but right here in front of her. And maybe now, just maybe, he can understand exactly what he means to her. How he has been forever tattooed into her heart, her soul, her being.
And the night falls away and it is only him and her under a sea of waking stars, as she pulls away and looks up at him with silver lining her eyes.
@asterion I can't omg ♡ this post was inspired by this song! I CAN'T HANDLE THEM OKAY -faints-
"Aislinn speech."
art by elegant
