This keening soul;
Leto hears his breathing hold and it is as if everything falls as still as his lungs then. Do they hold such power? Power enough to stop the winds and sway of leaves and boughs and stems? Power enough to stop the breath in her lungs…
She huffs in distaste and her lungs strain with the effort. They ache with perfect throbbing and the stargirl’s lip curls – what power does this king hold? What ritual magic slivering through his veins… But Leto knows what magic there is that lies within the deep of his mortal bones. She can near hear the roar of Asterion’s blood like waves, the salt that tastes his skin and the touch of his gaze that she wishes were like sand upon her skin and not the cool, cool of flowing surf.
Beneath religion painted upon her skin, its creeds and vows making her a bold and sacred thing, Leto watches him watching her. She does not sway nor turn her eyes from him. The silver of her gaze promises to bathe him in mercury and moonlight, but of they are gentle things and there is something fierce within her gaze still. What sound does clashing metal make? How loud are the cries of stars colliding? They are all there within her nebulae gaze their songs of salvation and annihilation ringing out through the very bones of her. Silver is nothing in her eyes when behind them burns a scattered rainbow of stars.
Ah! He moves close, close and with each step that brings them closer her eyes burn brighter. Burn, burn those silver stars whisper. Still, still her essence breathes as each breath he now affords her lungs turns her skin to lead and stone. She will not be moved by his approach for how many times has she already moved with him like two birds amid a murmuration.
And he passes her to press his lips lips upon the tree. Leto is a tangle of so many things but something fierce tips her chin up. The same curls her lips into a smile wild and bright. The king’s eyes close, each lash lying upon his cheek, their combined shadows a fan of infinite black. Her heart is a staccato of a thousand worshipping knees landing upon altar steps, her sigils glow with more than mere light and a girl’s bold faith. They dance like witches upon her skin and swirl like ancient magicks lost.
Her bells are chiming, her bones chattering as her head shakes with his question. “So many things.” Leto answers as her gaze turns at last from him and back to the sigils upon the tree. “Fear. Lament. Vengeance.” She names each and yet a thousand more cover the bark of the tree. “The carved are anger and vengeance, the painted sorrow and premonition.” Her eyes tip up to the bones and skulls that hang, beautiful and morbid. Leto might wonder what he thought, this boy of royalty and luxury. The leaves of gold and silver flash like gems and knives in the ebbing light.
Then he is closer still, another step lost in the blink of an eye. Discomfort twists within her and oh how she yearns to lean away, despite her gaze that seeks his skin curious. “Why do you stand so close?” The girl asks, each word the strain of a violin, her voice the thrum of hearts and hands and feet worshipping earth and sky.
Yet Leto cannot bring herself to move and endures his proximity as heat prickles along her skin. Though she arches away, her nape the graceful bow of a laden flower, still she does not move from where he stands. Despite it all, Asterion has the words to draw her back and her gaze is bright where she turns back to drink him in again. “Most of them.” The star-girl confesses with lips that threaten him with wild smiles and a tongue heavy with delight and pride. “The ones I can reach, the rest are painted on by others each day.”
Her eyes trail over his skin and the stars that lie there, cast down from the sky. “But you, you are a thief.” Leto breathes as she drinks him in and the stars he holds, plucked from the sky.
@Leto | "speaks" | notes: table 2/2!! this was super fun to make
