Mirrorverse AU

[fighting_mad]

Isplourrdacartha steps through the door first, wearing the less formal gown that she had changed into for the reception. Her arms are toned and a simple necklace with a purple stone hangs in the hollow of her tanned throat. Her shining red hair has been wound into a crown about her head, and she has a gorgeous purple flower tucked into it.

She looks around the spartan royal apartments as she steps farther in, seeing her new home for the first time since she'd married their current occupant, who is only a step or two behind her. The windows are open to the warm night air, and the sound of the nightbugs chirping several stories below can be heard.

She's smiling.

Comments

[fighting_mad]

"I've never had that," she says, glancing at him. His face is near to hers, handsome under the moonslight, but she doesn't so much as breathe in his direction. "When I fly -- they're beautiful. They're like -- living creatures, organic." She smiles quietly, to herself. "I always half-expect them to start breathing."

She shakes her head, and looks to the sky again. "But I've only ever flown recreationally, and not to far-off places."

[eiattu_pride]

He nods, silent, bottle hanging loosely from his fingers, staring at the stars with regret open on his face, longing to be back there. To be somewhere other then the ground, somewhere free and away from the politics, the anger, the millions looking to him for answers.

But he's tied here, heart and soul, so that he thinks maybe when he dies he'll be a constellation, way up high, watching his planet forever.

[fighting_mad]

Rial may be watching the stars, but Isplourrdacartha is watching him.

She can read his face, for once; can see the yearning and the heartache and how he wishes he were away from here, and she glances away, briefly, unshed tears stinging her eyes and burning in the back of her throat.

But she composes herself, she swallows the hurt, even if she can't cover her sorrow for him, for all he has lost. She lays her hand on his opposite cheek and turns his face to her.

"My prince," she says softly, and she rests her brow against his, giving everything and asking for nothing in return.

[eiattu_pride]

What she gives, he cannot take.

Rial remains where he is, silently standing with her, her hand on his cheek, face to face, for a long, long moment. It feels right. It feels comforting, and perfect, and it's where he wants to be. His eyes slide shut.

And then, just as quickly, they snap open and he wrenches himself away, leaping back. The bottle shatters on the stone of the balcony as he half-runs backwards four or five paces, stopping to put his hands up as though warding something off.

"I can't," he says, and the frustration (at her, at him, it's hard to say) is clearly evident in his voice. "Countess - Isplourr - I'm sorry, I cannot."

And then he's gone, sweeping into their quarters, the bedchamber door hissing shut.

[fighting_mad]

Isplourrdacartha stands frozen, her hand outstretched to him, 'Rial, wait--' dead on her lips.

She wraps her free arm around herself as she pours what remains of her whiskey out on the stone. She sets the cup down and crouches beside it, and silently, methodically picks up the pieces of broken glass and drops them into her empty cup.

He doesn't love you.
Tink.
He doesn't want you.
Tink.
He doesn't care for you.
Tink.
He wants to leave you.
Tink.
Does he even respect you?
Tink.

She is crying, before she has picked up all of the shards, sobbing for breath as she covers her mouth with one hand and folds the other into the train of her wedding dress. The city lights shine, and the stars hold steady, even if the bride does not.