asterion
Oh, but Aislinn is wrong.
It is she who is the star, brilliant and fearless and burning, and Asterion the sky that steadies it and shows off its shine – or maybe he is a moon, slim and silver, helpless to avoid its orbit. She is a galleon, brave and bold with its billowing sails, and he the calm carrying sea.
Or maybe they are only themselves, and they are together, and nothing else matters at all.
He is enchanted by her laughter. Asterion has never heard a sound as sweet and wild, a mountain stream that bounds over the rocks, that gives life to everything around it. Her laughter, her happiness, is sustaining. He thinks (and perhaps it is the drink, fuzzy and bright as starlight in his mind and his veins) that maybe he doesn’t need food after all – he could live forever on her smile, the timbre of it in her voice.
Come, she says, but there is no need: he is already following her, swept up in the silver of her wake. He knows, somewhere below conscious thought, that he would follow her anywhere – he knew it from the first, when he saw her dancing with the fireflies.
He is a dreamer, after all, and she the dream.
If he could he would capture her wink, keep it to treasure; instead he presses a quick kiss to her cheek, blows a length of starlit hair from her temple.
“I’ve already found all I want,” he says softly, in her ear, and then he’s laughing, dancing off ahead of her with a clatter of hooves on stone. Heart full, eyes shining like moonlight on the sea, the night all potential ahead of him.
@Aislinn <3333 good place to wrap? I just read her broken-wing thread D:
It is she who is the star, brilliant and fearless and burning, and Asterion the sky that steadies it and shows off its shine – or maybe he is a moon, slim and silver, helpless to avoid its orbit. She is a galleon, brave and bold with its billowing sails, and he the calm carrying sea.
Or maybe they are only themselves, and they are together, and nothing else matters at all.
He is enchanted by her laughter. Asterion has never heard a sound as sweet and wild, a mountain stream that bounds over the rocks, that gives life to everything around it. Her laughter, her happiness, is sustaining. He thinks (and perhaps it is the drink, fuzzy and bright as starlight in his mind and his veins) that maybe he doesn’t need food after all – he could live forever on her smile, the timbre of it in her voice.
Come, she says, but there is no need: he is already following her, swept up in the silver of her wake. He knows, somewhere below conscious thought, that he would follow her anywhere – he knew it from the first, when he saw her dancing with the fireflies.
He is a dreamer, after all, and she the dream.
If he could he would capture her wink, keep it to treasure; instead he presses a quick kiss to her cheek, blows a length of starlit hair from her temple.
“I’ve already found all I want,” he says softly, in her ear, and then he’s laughing, dancing off ahead of her with a clatter of hooves on stone. Heart full, eyes shining like moonlight on the sea, the night all potential ahead of him.
@Aislinn <3333 good place to wrap? I just read her broken-wing thread D:
