Up, up, up the fae girl climbs. The world falls away beside her, clattering down with the chime of tumbling rocks. Most of the mountain slumbers beneath a blanket of cloud, but up here, near Verenor’s highest peak, there is nothing but blue, blue sky.
The flower girl peers beyond the last of the mountain’s rising stone, up beyond the last gold of sunlight. Her gaze keeps climbing until she drowns in a blue that ascends and ascends. Oh to swim in that celestial sea – to drift out upon forever’s tide.
But the clack of feet distract her. They pull the flower girl’s attention away from the limitless skies and down to a shadowy figure ahead. He is silhouetted by sun, a dark shadow sculpted by Calligo and framed by Solis’s light. There was no sign of his god here – nor hers for that matter.
With a smile upon her lips Florentine moves on. Her steps are a dance as she weaves her way up the rugged, mountain path. To spread her wings would be to catch him easily and what a temptation it is! It has been too long since her eyes have fallen upon his ebony skin and heard his laughter in her ears. To accompany him up the mountain is temptation indeed.
See, Florentine knows this boy of shadow, she knows the flare of his wings – one great and one he always holds close, close to his side. His silhouette is one she could draw herself. Florentine knows her boys, the two other parts to their triad. They were missing one today, and she feels Somnus’ absence keenly, but she has also seen the gilded king more recently, unlike Ulric.
Her small feet merely sigh over the stone, balletic and nimble as she moves, closer, closer. His name plays upon her lips, it resonates in her heartbeat. It begs to be called out and alert its master, but she keeps the name tight, tight to her lips.
And she creeps ever closer.
There is hope for her here. The winds begin to blow down the mountain face, away from him and on towards her. It charges into Florentine and Ulric, beating against their chests, pulling at their manes and roaring in their exposed ears.
Ulric looks down, studying his steps and her chance is fleeting. The flower girl lunges forward, light as a cat, her amethyst eyes bright like a predator’s watchful stare. She is leonine now: her lips curled into a wild smile and her body a canvas of mud and pollen. Florentine is elegance and grace as she surprises him. The girl reaches him, silent as a wraith. A wing flares, a feathered tip dropping to suddenly run along his spine as she dances past him, “I thought I recognized that butt.” She turns to him, her smile wicked, he was never one to blush as much as Somnus. Her quips always landed more gently upon his skin. “I know it almost as well as Somnus’ ” A slender hip nudges him as they both ascend the final steps to the peak together. Sunlight drowns them in cool, cool gold.
Flora looks to him and they are black and gold upon the ceiling of the world.
The winds grasp her mane, tugging lavender petals that fly off the mountain’s edge. She watches them go with a smile that does not fade for she is quite content here, in this moment. “I have missed you Ulric. I haven’t seen you since Dawn’s festival.” The fae girl pauses, her eyes narrowing in mock offence. “You haven’t been avoiding me have you?” A comical pout flares her lips, but it is gone in the blink of his golden eyes.
Those wicked, honeyed lips of hers curl into a smile that laughs and laughs and laughs. The silk of his scarf passes across her wing, “Are you here to worship?” Flora asks of him as her eyes track the rippling silk. “I hope not.” And, quick as a bird, Florentine reaches forward to catch the end of the scarf between her teeth. In a swift pull, the scarf unfurls from his mane, flying free. The wind catches it pushing it against her neck. Swiftly the girl is gone, dancing down the mountainside, his scarf her most prized possession. Only her voice floats back to meet him in song, “I think it may suit me better, y’know, my kind of purple. I hope it was a gift.”
Not once did the flower girl stop to think that it might be a dangerous thing for them to be here, without Somnus.
@
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
