[private] we need the dark to know the light; hourglass

[aureus]

Aureus

oh, these wings, they flicker and my feathers stir
'til I'm an ancient soul in a cascade world

“I can’t imagine anyone not being completely enamored with you,” he says before he can stop himself, although the vulnerability in the sentence is almost lost on him entirely. For all of his seriousness, for all of his shyness, he is still the son of Pteron and Aegean. He is still the soft boy with the poet’s heart who has grown up watching his fathers so easily discuss matters of the heart. Aegean has taught him from a young age to not fear the truths of the heart and here, with her, he does not shy away from them.

The confession opens his face up, pulling back the shadows slightly, to leave it brighter and kinder, his purple eyes clear in their admiration of the glass girl in front of him. He can feel Astrum burn cold on his back, her displeasure in the entire conversation clear, and he twitches slightly—communicating with her about how much he does not care. She would have to deal with it, he thinks. She just would.

It doesn’t matter though—at least not for long—because she leans forward to touch him and he feels a tightening in his chest at the cool way that she feels against the warmth of his nose. He leans forward to elongate the contact just a moment longer before she pulls away, an instinctual need that he doesn’t fight.

“I can pretend,” he says, certain he would gladly do anything to keep her smiling. “I probably won’t be very good at it, but I can try.” He has no idea how to be a prince, or a knight, or anything but the quiet and studious boy in front of her, but he would gladly embarrass himself thoroughly for the glass girl. “What do you want to be?” he asks, certain there is nothing she could pretend to be lovelier than she is now.

and I'm quick with the bullet when it comes undone
I got a head like a turret with a mouth for a gun