He is a song she did not realize until that moment that she has missed so much, and as tears curl in the corner of her flaming eyes and freeze just as easily, she squeezes him harder and lets out a laugh at his silly words. How long has it been since she's heard that throaty sound come from her lips, let it roll easily into the air like the chiming of silver bells for the changing of the season and the oncoming winter and joy that should sweep in with it? Asterion pulls it from her as easily as strumming a harpsicord, the sound floating around them until he pulls back enough to touch the base of her wing, enough so that when her eyes meander over him once more she notes how much leaner he is, the weight he has lost. What burdens does he now carry, she wonders with a graveness returning to her spirit.
"Sweet Asterion," Moira croons, pulling away to peer at him through those lashes that go on for miles, days, an eternity that stretches between them. As taught as the air is cold, she can feel the tension in his words; something has changed, and yet nothing has at all as those star-strewn eyes peer at his own that still burn (yet they are colder, dampened). In him, she finds a galaxy unexplored, a future of hope, a friend in the most unlikely of places. He is like the sea that they found one another next to - a world unexplored, but she would like to feel what it is like to let his waves beat against her walls, to know the lapping of his emotions alongside the fraying of her edges until she is not so guarded and hidden from all those she holds dear. "You are a sweeter dream than I deserve," and it is a gentle whisper like his own that at last falls as a mere breath from her lips.
After a pause, the phoenix is alight in flame once more, cut hair and injured wing not seeming to bother her any longer as she nods toward the bobbing lights of Denocte, of the shelter they could seek if only to reminisce on all that is good and bad in the world.
"I am a healer who thought to fight a bird made of storms and fury. We were under attack, for a time, and I managed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. It is of little consequence - there are others who need much more than my simple bandages. After... After things calmed I tried to help those I could - I tried, Asterion." And it is then that she almost breaks, almost forgets what Eluoan taught her - do not get attached. How many had she seen go from pneumonia at home or old age? Moira did not know war there, where she was protected and safe... Here, this battle that so sought to take the flight she has not tasted, and others in her court where she finally claimed a home... Oh how it hurt so much more than watching an aunt or uncle she hardly know go in sweet repose. Children maimed from fallen buildings, bodies on the beaches who did not escape the tides and were thrown upon the rocky shores, so many unending horrors that should have turned her stomach. Instead they ate at her mind, haunted her dreams until she could not sleep well, until she was forced to wonder the night - like she'd done before they met in this fog - until exhaustion would weigh her down instead.
"And what news do you bring? You were not so heavy last time we met - no, you danced like the summer breezes then." A smile pulls the corner of black lips up, a ghost of those demure glances and inquiring grins he'd known before, but it is better than indifference she offers to the rest who inquire of her. "It seems you have a tale to tell," and with an arched brow she shuffles forward, pushing at his shoulder enough to spur them into action once more to walk toward the lamplight that would lead them to warmer places and food that would return his strength once more.
"Sweet Asterion," Moira croons, pulling away to peer at him through those lashes that go on for miles, days, an eternity that stretches between them. As taught as the air is cold, she can feel the tension in his words; something has changed, and yet nothing has at all as those star-strewn eyes peer at his own that still burn (yet they are colder, dampened). In him, she finds a galaxy unexplored, a future of hope, a friend in the most unlikely of places. He is like the sea that they found one another next to - a world unexplored, but she would like to feel what it is like to let his waves beat against her walls, to know the lapping of his emotions alongside the fraying of her edges until she is not so guarded and hidden from all those she holds dear. "You are a sweeter dream than I deserve," and it is a gentle whisper like his own that at last falls as a mere breath from her lips.
After a pause, the phoenix is alight in flame once more, cut hair and injured wing not seeming to bother her any longer as she nods toward the bobbing lights of Denocte, of the shelter they could seek if only to reminisce on all that is good and bad in the world.
"I am a healer who thought to fight a bird made of storms and fury. We were under attack, for a time, and I managed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. It is of little consequence - there are others who need much more than my simple bandages. After... After things calmed I tried to help those I could - I tried, Asterion." And it is then that she almost breaks, almost forgets what Eluoan taught her - do not get attached. How many had she seen go from pneumonia at home or old age? Moira did not know war there, where she was protected and safe... Here, this battle that so sought to take the flight she has not tasted, and others in her court where she finally claimed a home... Oh how it hurt so much more than watching an aunt or uncle she hardly know go in sweet repose. Children maimed from fallen buildings, bodies on the beaches who did not escape the tides and were thrown upon the rocky shores, so many unending horrors that should have turned her stomach. Instead they ate at her mind, haunted her dreams until she could not sleep well, until she was forced to wonder the night - like she'd done before they met in this fog - until exhaustion would weigh her down instead.
"And what news do you bring? You were not so heavy last time we met - no, you danced like the summer breezes then." A smile pulls the corner of black lips up, a ghost of those demure glances and inquiring grins he'd known before, but it is better than indifference she offers to the rest who inquire of her. "It seems you have a tale to tell," and with an arched brow she shuffles forward, pushing at his shoulder enough to spur them into action once more to walk toward the lamplight that would lead them to warmer places and food that would return his strength once more.
