between the shadows and the soul - Engelsfors, Erebor

[Engelsfors]

angels fall on broken wings; I feel is, then, just as he mentions it, the steady pulse beneath my feet, quivering, quaking. The gentle heartbeat at first sounds fleeting, shallow and barely there, but I extend my neck, lowering my muzzle and pressing my soft salmon nose against the dirt, the earth quivers, quakes, and just as Erebor had mentioned, it sounded just like a heartbeat. I knew what that sounded like, I also knew the sound of racing, breaking hearts and the sound they made just before the last breath slipped from their lips. It was an exasperated pound, as if the organ knew what was to come and made some vain attempt of restarting. A quickening, a pounding that reverberated the ribcage until finally it just stopped. Those memories were fleeting, like shards of glass slipping from my fingers as I was transported back to the present, and back in the company of the coloured queen and the ebony prince. 'I feel it. right there.' I lift my head, ears twiddling, twirling like golden monuments swaying in the wind. I watch him curiously, steadily. Azure eyes drinking him in, every inch of him. Ebony swathe, dark and deep, like the swirling shadows further through the pines. He's dressed in darkness, in shadow. But his tongue drips of silver and gold. I listen, absorbing every inch of his word, eyes absorbing every inch of him. Mother was right when it came to first impressions, they are after all delivered with the eye, then followed by the lips. One could be as beautiful as the sun, but spoke with the filth of the gutter and the dregs of the cavernous depths. My mother said once, that I spoke like the moon, a beautiful mystery forever trying to be conquered by those of the night. I roll my shoulders, flicking my tail, swishing away the vague memories that taint my mind. 'So he is bound to this place, by an unseen thread, by some... ominous magic.' I'm unsure, words slipping from my velvet lips. I'm new to this place, this world even and still young, perhaps a little unjust when it came to such brilliant tales. I listen nonetheless and when he is done I offer him an incline of my head, a debonair smile of gold and pink. 'The Chamber gave him purpose then... he must have done something for the Chamber to then take such a vital, important thing from him.' all whimsy, all question. but all forever learning. I pause, golden plume gliding over my loins, a gentle tilt of my lofty head to the side, to offer Erebor a delicate stare, trembling lips exposing bittersweet words. 'I mean no presumptions. This world, it is full of a strange magic, a strange, almost sinister web. I can't help but be drawn in.' can't give up, can't give in;