Rings of flowers 'round your eyes and I'll love you, Leilan. - Printable Version

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Rings of flowers 'round your eyes and I'll love you, Leilan. - Jenova - 07-02-2018

She’d slept peacefully through the night despite the cold. In fact, she didn’t wake until almost midday. Her bright blue eyes only open when the sun’s path has reached its highest point. Last night, she’d curled up beneath the trees to a brown and gray winter landscape. Now it’s all white and pristine, like something straight out of a painting. Jenova hurries to rise from her makeshift bed and trots into a more open area to see just how much had fallen.

It is the first snowfall of the year and she is delighted to be near the river during times like this. The current cuts a line through the snow drifts and she can see the flurries have collected up to knee height in some places around her. She smiles as she spreads her wings to catch the little flakes on her feathers where they either blend into the white patches or create pale freckles on the powder blue splotches across her. While the lazy days of summer were always enjoyable, she thinks that winter might be her favorite time of the year. Lounging in a lake while the cicadas cry out nearby just can’t compare to kicking up the snow and watching the way her breath puffs in front of her.

With a flap of her wings, all the little crystalline snowflakes she’d collected swirl around her before they join the others on the ground. Jenova begins to trudge forward but she’s careful not to lift her legs too high. Two grooves form in the snow behind her until she finds a flat patch of land. She continues scooting along, forming different shapes until her legs grow tired from the effort. The white puffs of her breath slowly calm as she bows her head down, etching different pictures of herself and her past friends in the snow with her horn. She lifts her head once she’s finished and bursts into laughter at the pitiful attempt. They’re absolutely terrible. Someone should pay her not to do their portrait.

Still, among her sketches she’s drawn her parents. Even though they don’t resemble them in the slightest, it makes it a little easier to remember their faces. She misses them terribly but she’s not one to complain. Instead, she reflects on her memories and cherishes them. Jenova gives a little toss of her head to brush the light blue and white forelock from her pretty face. Somewhere in the distance, a bird chirps in annoyance, but the world is otherwise hushed around her. Everything is at peace.

And in my dreams you're alive and you're crying,
As your mouth moves in mine, soft and sweet.

RE: Rings of flowers 'round your eyes and I'll love you, Leilan. - Leilan - 07-04-2018

Your beauty is beyond compare -
oh, if I could hear but one song from you
I shall hail thee Queen of Birds...
The river is a quiet place to travel in winter, and the bay roan stands out like a fire. His body red, his mane and tail highlighted by the metallic golden streaks - the only thing that doesn't stand out might be the silvering in those same flags, but they don't make him any less stunning.

As, of course, he himself would say any day. Any other day really, to be honest. He has a purpose to travel towards Nerine today, but if he can stall, then all the better. It has been a little over a year now that he'd made his way to Loess with Arthas, and since then he's constantly tried to mend the broken line between his home and his... temporary second home (okay, maybe not constantly, there have been distractions). If the Loessians hadn't been quite so stubborn, he would have succeeded, but even Arthas had found it too annoying to be king (like Leilan would have told him a thousand times) - now it was Wolfbane who owned that title. Which meant the close alliance with Sylva was void what with them being available for hire by anyone.

He smiled to himself, thinking of that. It meant that his brief position as a spy-or-liaison (he'd told both parties different things) was no longer needed, and that he was free to go. To roam Beqanna once more, and either woo or irritate whomever he came across. Mostly, to sway the ladies and irritate the gents (who then usually turned out to be NOT-gentlemen). For one without a purpose, he was dead-set on continuing the life cycle as it should be. As long as he could keep that one girl out of his mind.

His hoofs make deep marks in the fresh white of the world. Now or then, he kicks at it, or walks figures in it, nameless swirls and even more nameless heaps of white in the world. Accidentally, he also kicks snow over a bird who'd been trying to find something (a worm perhaps), and the feathered little beastie angrily chips at him. But on her own, she's nothing, and the draft-bred stallion ignores the avian creature.

He continues his silent trek, but the smirk has already died on his face by the time he notices the blue-white figure in the distance. A winged unicorn, or a horned pegasus - a pegacorn, or unisus. Doesn't matter - she's pretty and she's female, and his smile is back on his face when he emerges from the trees. A perfect distraction. He stops before walking into her snow-ploughed patch of white though, and looks down on them curiously and then back at her before grinning. "Quite the artist, I see. Glad we meet in winter." he nods at her. "I'm Leilan, of Ischia." Formerly of... whatever. A lot. "Whom have I the pleasure of meeting today?" he prods. Anything, anyone, to make him feel better - but she could just make him feel at his best today.
there's something here that doesn't make sense
let's go and poke it with a stick


RE: Rings of flowers 'round your eyes and I'll love you, Leilan. - Jenova - 07-11-2018

something about the dark. something about our bodies, and the way we find one another.
something about the place where fear melts in the mouth and gets lost in kisses and under fingernails.

Jenova is one of those rare beautiful fools, one who doesn’t understand the true workings of the world around her. Her eyes don’t see the thread that connects them all or the way her life is always so close to danger. Instead, she only knows of her daydreams and the perfect world she’s sculpted for herself. The precious girl spends her days sighing and imagining the life of a princess or queen as though their lives are perfect and so far away from what little troubles she knows. Even now, she believes missing her parents is the penultimate of pain. Her heart is fragile like the crystalline icicles dangling from nearby trees – one breath might shatter them both.

Her ear turns to listen as he approaches and she looks over her shoulder at him. Her long lashes blink slowly as her wing hides the lower half of her face like some modest angel, but she doesn’t realize the things she does. Jenova smiles as he observes her work and tucks her wing tight against her to reveal the sweet expression. His compliment has her laughing softly and the sound is sweet like delicate harp chords plucked just gently enough to emit a sound. Ignorant girl, she doesn’t know what he means when he says ‘of Ischia’. If he had not paused after saying his name, she might think the title was also part of it. LeilanofIschia.

She absent-mindedly bites her lower lip shyly.

I am Jenova, of here,” she says with another laugh. She mimics his careful pause, lest she be called Jenovaofhere. “The pleasure is all mine, of course.

She says this with a little bow – wings splayed out to accentuate the gesture, a dainty foreleg lifted. When she rises, her bright blue eyes look over him curiously. The little golden strands of his mane draw her closer without any concern for personal space. Their chests are touching before she realizes but she seems unbothered by the contact, though his cold aura sends a shiver up her spine. The glimmering gold is too alluring for her to worry about all that, though.

Were you born this lovely?” she asks as she delicately touches her nose to the strands to see if they are as soft as the others. Her breath is almost hot against his skin but she doesn’t seem to notice or care. She’s a curious thing, refined in her words and some of her gestures, but entirely wild in the way she carries herself. Her mother didn’t have time to teach her quite everything there is to being a lady so she improvises from time to time. It certainly makes for an interesting girl, to say the last.
something about the sanctity of trust, of midnight confessions,
of held breath let out on a sigh like a smoke signal, a safe harbor.
some kind of magic. the kind that’s only for us.