02-17-2021, 09:19 PM
CrownS
He has always preferred the night - the suffocating quiet, the stillness in the air. When the shadows devoured Beqanna, he had been thrilled in a way that others, perhaps, were not. There is mystery breathing in every inch and he is driven to pick it all apart until he is one with it all.
(There is an otherness to this night, naturally, but he has learned to trust it as he did the others.)
He turns his brilliant sapphire head and his dimly glowing eyes settle on her long before she speaks. Her every step is like thunder up against the hush of the dark. But she has become frozen with some sort of trepidation he cannot understand, and so he takes the few long, tender strides required to meet her halfway. Her face is dark with a few red locks spilling over her face and down her young neck. Crowns assumes she is similar in age to him, but he has been wrong about these kinds of things before.
“The lights?” he parrots back dumbly, already forgetting the foxfire still bouncing around him. A little blue orb bounces lazily into his field of vision shortly after he speaks, summoning an embarrassed laugh from him. “Oh. I didn’t make them but.. I think they’re mine now?”
He extends his wing to let the dripping silhouette brush against a passing flame. It neither sizzles or spits but rather passes through, unhindered by the appendage. Crowns takes a moment longer to consider the gift before bringing his oceanic gaze back to the girl.
“My name is Crowns, by the way. What’s yours?” he asks with a smile that manages to breathe life into the night.
(There is an otherness to this night, naturally, but he has learned to trust it as he did the others.)
He turns his brilliant sapphire head and his dimly glowing eyes settle on her long before she speaks. Her every step is like thunder up against the hush of the dark. But she has become frozen with some sort of trepidation he cannot understand, and so he takes the few long, tender strides required to meet her halfway. Her face is dark with a few red locks spilling over her face and down her young neck. Crowns assumes she is similar in age to him, but he has been wrong about these kinds of things before.
“The lights?” he parrots back dumbly, already forgetting the foxfire still bouncing around him. A little blue orb bounces lazily into his field of vision shortly after he speaks, summoning an embarrassed laugh from him. “Oh. I didn’t make them but.. I think they’re mine now?”
He extends his wing to let the dripping silhouette brush against a passing flame. It neither sizzles or spits but rather passes through, unhindered by the appendage. Crowns takes a moment longer to consider the gift before bringing his oceanic gaze back to the girl.
“My name is Crowns, by the way. What’s yours?” he asks with a smile that manages to breathe life into the night.
you got me on my knees; i'm your one-man cult.