where we break when our hearts are strong enough
He is quiet and calm and beautiful for it, and she wonders at the boy who makes no sudden movements, who does not yell or raise his voice or boast. She calms in his presence, her skin prickling when he reaches forward with his light. For a moment, she imagines it piercing her, imagines it running through her, and she cannot decide if this idea is terrifying or thrilling. Her eyes widen with it, but she doesn’t move even though her indigo legs witch with nervousness and excitement and the need to move.
Rhaegor only nods to her question and she takes another step toward him, tilting her elegant head to the side, the wild tangles of her mane falling from her slender neck. Her nostrils flare as she drinks him in, as she takes note of the slight glow that seemingly radiates from him, as she picks up the telltale signs of the clear lake that rests in the heart of his land. He smells of cherry blossoms and deep pools, she thinks.
Still brave in the milky light of night, and braver still before his quiet calm, she reaches out, her nose touching his briefly before she withdraws, the velvet of it leaving her skittish.
She doesn’t let the silence draw on forever though.
Eventually, the edges of her dark mouth tip upward, something like mischief staining her lips.
“I like them too,” she confesses, but she doesn’t reveal hers just yet. It’s easier to live in this moment where nothing but the quiet exists between them—where he doesn’t know her name and she doesn’t know his and they don’t have the power to destroy each other. They only have the power to build sandcastle dreams together, weaving together a tapestry of their making for the night.
we can bow 'cause our music's warmer than blood
@[Rhaegor]