02-15-2016, 02:39 PM
trapped inside this twisted circle, it ain't right but it's eternal
She cannot see him come to her, cannot trace his path through the sky against the endless aching blue with wings spread wide from the imperial purple of his shoulders. In fact she does not hear him either- or at least cannot discern the rustle of the feathers on his wings from the rustle of feather on the white and silver wings of a gull. One day she would learn, and probably very soon, but in her newness, in her inexperience, she is raw and vulnerable before him. She does hear when his feet touch the sand though, when the sediment hisses with contact and so she turns to him, her face delicate and silver and entirely beautiful in its uncertainty.
Special, he calls her and she can feel her body soften with the praise. As the nervousness bleeds from her, so do the serpents. Each one hits the ground and bursts into a cloud of mist frozen in time for a long moment until both Capture and Kirin are shrouded in it. It is in this way that she traces the shape of his face and the curve of the smile across his mouth. She follows the mist, tracing the outline of his body where it breaks apart the water so that she can picture him like a strange silhouette in the blackness of her mind. There is no color, no purple or bright, but there a varying shades of black and she had made him the most beautiful shade of all.
She gasps quietly, a sound like wind rushing over stones, and the mist thickens around his wings. Capture had not known a winged horse before. At once she pulls the mist from him, leaves his skin as cool and dry as it had been before. Instead she calls the water to her shoulders and coaxes it awkwardly into the same shape she had felt at his withers. Two glittering, iridescent wings shimmered above her as she tried to remember the shape of each individual feather. For a thoughtful moment she stayed that way, but then with a sigh the water-wings burst and rained down around them. She was careful not to let it touch them.
Dirty. She remembered the word suddenly and flinched, wondering with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach if she had broken a rule.
The sound of his voice coaxes her face to lift towards him again and those unseeing eyes disappear for a moment behind the uncertain flutter of dark eyelashes. “Kirin.” She repeats and her voice is an impossibly small sound, like the tolling of a tiny, silver bell. A tremulous sigh leaves her lips as she reaches her nose across the empty space between them. “Even birds must be jealous of you.”
CAPTURE
Special, he calls her and she can feel her body soften with the praise. As the nervousness bleeds from her, so do the serpents. Each one hits the ground and bursts into a cloud of mist frozen in time for a long moment until both Capture and Kirin are shrouded in it. It is in this way that she traces the shape of his face and the curve of the smile across his mouth. She follows the mist, tracing the outline of his body where it breaks apart the water so that she can picture him like a strange silhouette in the blackness of her mind. There is no color, no purple or bright, but there a varying shades of black and she had made him the most beautiful shade of all.
She gasps quietly, a sound like wind rushing over stones, and the mist thickens around his wings. Capture had not known a winged horse before. At once she pulls the mist from him, leaves his skin as cool and dry as it had been before. Instead she calls the water to her shoulders and coaxes it awkwardly into the same shape she had felt at his withers. Two glittering, iridescent wings shimmered above her as she tried to remember the shape of each individual feather. For a thoughtful moment she stayed that way, but then with a sigh the water-wings burst and rained down around them. She was careful not to let it touch them.
Dirty. She remembered the word suddenly and flinched, wondering with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach if she had broken a rule.
The sound of his voice coaxes her face to lift towards him again and those unseeing eyes disappear for a moment behind the uncertain flutter of dark eyelashes. “Kirin.” She repeats and her voice is an impossibly small sound, like the tolling of a tiny, silver bell. A tremulous sigh leaves her lips as she reaches her nose across the empty space between them. “Even birds must be jealous of you.”
azriel x swift