of course i feel too much
i'm a universe of exploding stars
i'm a universe of exploding stars
She had half a thought that her invitation had been a fluke; that when one of the healers had found her in her tower chambers — for finally, she had been moved from the infirmary — that maybe, there could have been a mistake. Her dear friend, her confidant, Dusk’s dragon and stormchild.. here. In her kingdom. In the City of Starlight. In her home. Questions had been born on her lips, unspoken. Although her confusion ailed her as much as the bandages wrapped keenly around her ruined wing, the stormsinger could not deny the swell of her heart. She had been wallowing in her own misery, drowning in the shadow of Torstein’s lingering words, and seething at the blood that continued to well where her feathers had been plucked by teeth shredding her precious skin.
But nothing would stop her from accepting his invitation.
Aislinn had hauled herself from her pillows, biting back a wince as spears of white flame rubbed where her bones had begun to heal. Her heart thunders with each shuffling step, bursting with.. excitement. A spring breeze flirts with her hair, caressing her skin in soft tendrils of flower’s perfume as she travels through the winding halls and their open windows. Each hoofbeat is a drum of her heart that nearly bursts, overwhelming the dark memories of her battle upon the Steppe — smothering them into nothing. All that matters is she almost upon the open doors to the Rotunda; moments from seeing a beloved, familiar face.
Sunlight blinds her in pierces of gold and shimmer as she crosses the threshold to the gardens. Dark lashes fall to cover her eyes, adjusting to the bright colors of earth’s rebirth of new grass and blossoms of every color one could possibly imagine. Her ears catch the flapping of drapes in the winds that swirl around her, but it is the shadow that is cast over her that causes her to tilt her crown skyward. Blue orbs land upon a creature of myth, of legend, flaring to brightest flames before simmering into a closed cast as she dips her crown towards the dragon. Oxygen burns in her throat, held steadfast from her pause, before she looses it. A slow inhale. A slower exhale. Her racing heart calming, despite the ominous presence of a legend on the perch of their castle.
Seconds pass and she is moving, her stare blinking to accompany the figure who has curled themselves upon a mess of silken pillows at the garden’s center. There is a tenderness that grows within her, a gentleness that softens the tense coil of her muscles beneath midnight skin. Although her wing may be riddled, destroyed in a mess of soaked bandages and torn feathers, she cannot find the room to care. All she can feel is the curve of coppery lips, reaching skywards as she grins. ”Isorath,” she gushes, an unfamiliar sound on her tongue. She is upon him then, taking in the ornate table and blankets and finery. Her gaze catches on the jewels that glimmer under the sun’s beams, and her nostrils flare with the incense that fills her lungs with whispers of smoke.
Slowly, she falls to her knees, curling her legs beneath her as she is ever careful of the wing at her side. Aislinn’s eyes to not tear from the man of porcelain gold; all ivory and silks and ethereal beauty. ”You’ve outdone yourself, my friend. This.. this is amazing.”
@isorath ♡ I’m so excited it’s not even funny xD
"Aislinn speech."
