[P] No Mercy

[Isorath]

I S O R A T H — the night has a thousand eyes — but all I see is you. The air is near suffocating, as the words poured from his mouth and came to life around them. He can't remember the last time breathing was so hard, each lungful is heady and thick as he surged forward in his confession. His demand. Here upon the precipice where he prepares to fall, or fly — a hundred different emotions and actions, all dependent on the answer Reichenbach may or may not give him. But Isorath has never abided half-love, half-emotions of twisted threads and snippets of things that he is greedy for, unspoken loyalty where there is a forcefully pulled leash than freedom to be given and received in return. He's desperate for it all. He deserved to be loved, his soul cried with teeth bared, and it is Reich's love that he so wants. The High Prince's words come to a punctuated end with a heavy breath, leaving his nostrils in a visible curl in the frosted night air. His heart crashed against his chest as the waves against the ragged cliffs did, their brine riddled fingers a harsh grip on the rocks which pulled and pulled and pulled. It spiked in a deafening crescendo when a grin painted itself upon that dark and bloodied maw. A temperamental inferno reaching forward for the fuel it needed to blaze. A fine tremble crawled up his spine in a moment of unfiltered weakness, of starry hope and moon drenched want. He drank in the smell of jasmine, wood smoke and that age old smell of burnished and aged gold, metallic on his tongue and senses. He hadn't expected the suddenness of which Reichenbach turned, hadn't expected to feel that velvet maw brush against his own. Heat and surprised flooded him, flashed freely across the porcelain lines of his face, danced within the swirl of his lilac eyes. He cannot help but fall into the embrace the King of Stars and Shadows pulled him into, or the way his eyes fell closed because finally, finally he has found someone who will love him. Perhaps it is also to shut out the crystalline tears which threatened to spill across satin cheeks, the relief too much as his cage doors are finally flung open and what's left inside is once again allowed to fly free. There is a smile though, a fine and delicate thing as bright as the stars, hidden and pressed close into the mess of shadowy coal coils, into those tendrils of darkness which tickle his face as he searched to lose himself in the moment. I will love you as no man ever has, and may I wither and die if I ever betray that promise. Lose himself into the declaration Reichenbach gave him in return, the most precious gift anyone had ever given him. Finer than the silks in his wardrobe, richer than the jewels he wore. Worth more than his worldly possessions could ever fetch. While he would be loathe to part with them, he would, if he could have this. Turned out he didn't need to part with a thing. Their first meeting had been on that cliff in the storm, and if someone would of said that they were fated to be lovers — that they would be stood upon the beach beneath those very same cliffs, confessing their love. He might have laughed, a wicked and veiled thing. Yet, here they are. They separated, and the pang between his ribs is strange yet comforting. The vulnerability and joy is easily replaced by one of mischief, a lilted thing emphasized by the smirk which curled onto his pale maw even as Reichenbach stole another kiss. "Good, I do so love a man who can handle fire without the fear of being burned. But come," He says with a gentle fondness, head tilted toward the sea which lapped at their hooves. His telekinesis easily reached out to pull at those ink strands he could find himself entwined in for hours, as he himself retreated into the waves. "I doubt we have much time left, before consequence finds us. But, I would have one more memory of this night with you." He knew he cannot keep his Crow King here, that he must send him from Dusk before the Guards can come. Come they shall, on orders of a Queen spurned and a friend wounded. He too must also leave and face judgement. Already he is adrift in the waves, far out enough that the waves can lift him in their embrace in a gentle rise and fall. Illuminated by the candles upon his halo, washing him in warmth while the moonlight painted him in her pale light. His hair ethereal tendrils curling above and beneath the waves, prepared to their jealous grip around everything that came close. TAG: @Reichenbach