I want to be with those who know secret things
or else alone
or else alone
There is nothing as easy as standing beside her, feeling the press of her nose against his neck, grounding him, smelling like home, smelling like love. Even the sight of that billowing black cloud ahead of them, the fire a red eye against the distance, the yawning uncertainty - even that does not frighten him now. She reminds him with her presence alone that nothing matters so much as those he cares for, and that magic is adventure and hope and oh, not always disaster.
There are whole worlds out there, and so much none of them will ever know. Not even Florentine, for whom Time is choice with every possibility stretching endless. And somehow that makes what faces them feel…less.
“You should know me better by now,” he says softly back, and nudges at her cheek. “I’m not sure I could say no to you, little sister.” His grin is a half-moon and his eyes are not black as they reflect the horizon; there are stars in them yet, and a little smoke will never be enough to cloud them.
Asterion does not get to ride such a feeling for long. Flora laughs and speaks again, and at first the ear turned toward her twists back, and then he’s shaking his head, wrinkling his own nose. By the time she says responsible the king is snorting, feeling at once mortified and like laughing. “Florentine,” he says, “please, as your brother and your king, I beg you to stop. And never mention it again.”
But what her talk turns to next (her words are always flowing, quick an bright as a stream) is not much better. His nose is still wrinkled when he glances back at her, but he notes the laughter in her eyes, the smile hiding at the back of her pout. “Can’t you just…skip to the end?” he asks, half-joking, but when the volcano shudders and booms again his eyes go back to the sea, the island, the unknown. Asterion’s smile fades. “Though I suppose some things are better seen through,” he says, and lays his chin once more across her neck. Shoulder-to-shoulder they stand, and he thinks of the life within her, all the love and joy and potential. “I’m happy for you, sister. And I’ll be there for you all. Whatever comes.”
Soft are the words, and softly close his eyes, as together the siblings watch the world fall to unnatural night.
@Florentine <3
There are whole worlds out there, and so much none of them will ever know. Not even Florentine, for whom Time is choice with every possibility stretching endless. And somehow that makes what faces them feel…less.
“You should know me better by now,” he says softly back, and nudges at her cheek. “I’m not sure I could say no to you, little sister.” His grin is a half-moon and his eyes are not black as they reflect the horizon; there are stars in them yet, and a little smoke will never be enough to cloud them.
Asterion does not get to ride such a feeling for long. Flora laughs and speaks again, and at first the ear turned toward her twists back, and then he’s shaking his head, wrinkling his own nose. By the time she says responsible the king is snorting, feeling at once mortified and like laughing. “Florentine,” he says, “please, as your brother and your king, I beg you to stop. And never mention it again.”
But what her talk turns to next (her words are always flowing, quick an bright as a stream) is not much better. His nose is still wrinkled when he glances back at her, but he notes the laughter in her eyes, the smile hiding at the back of her pout. “Can’t you just…skip to the end?” he asks, half-joking, but when the volcano shudders and booms again his eyes go back to the sea, the island, the unknown. Asterion’s smile fades. “Though I suppose some things are better seen through,” he says, and lays his chin once more across her neck. Shoulder-to-shoulder they stand, and he thinks of the life within her, all the love and joy and potential. “I’m happy for you, sister. And I’ll be there for you all. Whatever comes.”
Soft are the words, and softly close his eyes, as together the siblings watch the world fall to unnatural night.
@
Asterion.
