the things I never said

vi

Parting the snowclouds with little more than a gentle breath, under Vi's influence the night sky above the Observatory will appear as clear and starlit as in Longheat. Around it the snow still falls upon the Sidhe village and ice glitters in the moonlight, alerting any who may gaze up that something more-than-mortal is afoot here.

Not that visitors would see anything further, should they go creeping up to the Observatory. Because the meeting about to take place occurs high above, deep in the cosmos, where the God of Life awaits his daughter of the stars with a red rose between his fingers. "Safrin." His voice is a rumble of deep, warm thunder, and the stars immediately nearby flash and pulse with his presence.

"I would speak with you."

Table base by Sky!

Being blighted is easy. There is nothing difficult about giving in to one's instincts, to slashing and delving deep into bitter resentments and filling yourself to the brim with all that you crave. A little madness seems a small price to pay, but someone had to.

In the depths of space stars twinkled out, black holes formed, and a holy host of cosmic chaos went unnoticed without Safrin's careful gaze to keep things as they should be. Instead the goddess lingered in dark places in her mind, her teeth sharp and her eyes wild, as she thought only of flowers.

Flowers, flowers, flowers, and how the moment of clarity when Amalia had pricked her skin had only made her realize how very little Vi cared.

She had been punished when the others had been praised and pet, for her part in the fall of the barrier.

She had been infected, unlike her counterparts, for trying to save the sniveling humans.

She had been left to the will of those who still cared about her, only a few roses planted near her shrine. Only one who came to see her.

Appearing in a dark twist of smoke the goddess eyed Vi with a reedy and black gaze. "Oh, yOu wOulD SeE mE?" She spat. "To what do I owe the great pleasure of being summoned."

SAFRIN

vi

She appears, his starlit child blighted by more than the infection that had taken her within the Spire. It has taken root deep inside her now, twisting and corrupting that which makes her dance upon the cosmos and breathe life and starfire into the skies. ”I would,” he repeats in response to her remark, his tone deep and earthy and warm. A voice to burst mountains into bloom.

”I have a gift for you,” he continues, suddenly before Safrin as though they have always been standing only a hair’s breath from each other. The rose between his fingertips shimmers crimson, and its golden thorns twinkle in the darkness. ”But first I would hear what you have to say.”

Because there was a tide between them that he felt had just rapidly pulled out, and Safrin was rife to let it loose in a tsunami.

Table base by Sky!