* ( REIGN / SENTENCE PROMPTS.
@apprenentice sent: ❛ We were supposed to dance under the stars. ❜ spams u with asks bc im evil @ apprenentice bc nima’s gr8 at dancing
Quicksharp is the speed in which he grabs her wrists, unmindful of the barely finished sentence and wait that it might have required. There was poetry to be had in the tunes of what she uttered, but no one did ever specify stanzas had to be gentle.
Dance was prose in physical form, and they could continue this conversational ode in this nuanced set of movements. ❝ Here we are. ❞ A laugh, more playful than mocking in this stance, body close yet far, spirits high yet dwelling in wait and curious expectation. He twirls her. ❝ For someone so sharp, you sure do take your time. ❞ Smug, though not biting. ❝ Or is this a way of showing me you prefer it when I make the first move? ❞ Dip! ❝ Hm, well. That suits this rhythm of mine just fine, I’m quite used to taking the lead after all. ❞
a flutter of laughter pulls it’s way from her throat that has her head tipping back and her hair spilling past her shoulders, covering the sudden breath of surprise she’d taken in response to the abrupt pull, soft and pleasant and matching his perfectly. they easily follow suit to the rhythm set up though not without a fumble here and there, unexpected as it was they were known for being a quick learner.
she couldn’t remember the last time she’d danced with someone ( it felt like lifetimes ago ), and she couldn’t remember the last time it felt so fun, couldn’t remember the last time she felt so alive with the wind on her face and her skin goosebumped, a vivacious energy taking her ( oh she felt so alive, so awake ).
it was as startling as it was enjoyable, and therein came the sinking revelation pooling in the back of their mind that they couldn’t remember the last time they’d been in the company of another, a subtle jostle of their head made to shake off the thoughts; and what splendid timing it was that he offered a twirl, to which she follows effortlessly, the motion only slightly disrupted by her snort at his words.
❛ oh, is that so ? and here i thought you liked this pace, maybe i’ll go faster next time — ❜ words cut themselves off at the sudden dip, eyes blinking slowly, almost owlishly, and as always she takes the time to study. studying his features, gaze mapping his face well as if it was the first time she’d seen him, and there was a brief pause that came from being so unused to such proximity ( far too accustomed with the solitude that came with her escapades ), and with a quick glance to the side, she raised a hand up lightning fast and gave him a gentle flick on the forehead.
❛ alright maestro, how about i take the lead now, hm ? ❜
* ( REIGN / SENTENCE PROMPTS.
@apprenentice sent: ❛ You have to admit, your fate does have a sense of humor. ❜ 8)
Hm . ❝ If we’re being morbid with said humor that is. ❞ A sliver of cynicism slips into his warmer tone, though its of little consequence considering the good-naturedness that promptly dilutes it. Dour moods have become more elusive as of late, perhaps as a promising sign that he had finally grown satisfied with his situation in life.
Unlikely. Avarice and ambition weren’t known to be abated so easily. The knowledge of the unrest did little to bother him. ❝ But what about you, miss hawk? You have quite the knack for placing judgements on others at the drop of a hat, at the briefest glance! My, do those eyes of yours look into my very core? Or do we happen to share such a funny fate that you knew with such assured confidence the comedy of my situation? ❞ It’s a voice that stings with challenging play, and he’s more than aware that the path he’s decided to take in this conversation might result in bristling snaps. It’s better that way. Adds spice. Banter was a dish better served steaming hot.
a slow grin curls on their lips, almost wry and yet not without the soft twinkling of playfulness that showed itself in the creases of their eyes, and then their gaze lowers. one hand settles neatly on their cheek, soft palm pressed against the flesh, whilst the other flexes lightly, digits finding idle ways to serve a distraction for their owner’s eyes.
it was curious their interactions, dipped in mystery and intrigue, curiosity weighing out the obvious caution that lay heavy whenever crossing someone, something, new. the stars weren’t made for cradling, burning bright and hot to scald any who wasn’t careful, and nima had their fair share of shaky travels. not everyone — every world was made for gentility, but it was here that they found their wariness slow, simmering beneath the surface yet not enough to cling to the forefront of their mind as it often did.
he served good company, company so hard to come by nowadays ( hardly impossible, but not many spared time for conversation and they stuck around so little anyways ), it made their initial cursory visits a more frequent arrangement. it never hurt to open one’s field view, and nima was ever the wonder filled explorer they’d been back home, exploring dusty streets at dusk with a bottle of carefully procured ( stolen ) brew — just a little something to shock anyone who wanted to attempt anything.
❛ now where’s the fun in that ? i’d have no benefit if i told you so freely. still, isn’t it intriguing ? ❜ there’s teasing in their words, dark gaze flickering upward from their previous place, fixing themselves ‘pon the other steadily with a raise of their eyebrows. they were no stranger to challenges, and weren’t known for backing down either.
❛ does it scare you ? would it be such a burden to know i find your circumstances interesting, you interesting. fate isn’t so cut and dry, you know, there’s a reason we use the cards. i just so happen to be horribly well-versed at reading people ! ❜ there’s a snap of their fingers and therein appears a deck of cards neatly set out, as if to demonstrate.
❛ mm, this card tells me you’re wildly competitive, with such an imaginative mind too. am i right ? ❜ they hold up a card, simple illusory trickery really, with a reflection of his face, their amused grin having yet to falter.
He enjoys the seeds of banter, the calm nature in which they speak and take him in. It’s new, refreshing ( arrogance usually came in its stead, yet there’s none to be found. nothing to be demolished this time ). While his intentions might not be docile nor friendly, he’d never one to raise his nose at innocent advances of play and mindful interaction.
Regardless of that, if they’re considering his offer, it’s safe to assume they’re capable of interacting with the physical world, hm ? He returns the squinting gaze, only to close his eyes in a humored chuckle. ❝ To be disdainful to those alike me would make me foolish, dove. ❞ A palm comes to cup his own cheek as he continues to watch them. ❝ No lonely spirit would turn away company unless he were stubbornly holding onto his own misery for self-pity. ❞
Although … could the physical interact with them ? A subtle motion of his head as he points to where some bottles rest. ❝ Wine, tea, coffee. ❞ A thoughtful trailing. ❝ And other liquors of varying potency. Do any of those entice you, moonlight ? I won’t take it to heart if you refuse. ❞
it takes moments of quiet studying before a low hum sounds at the back of their throat, lips curling into a careful smile and a gentle shuffle forward was made toward where the bottles rest. drinking wasn’t something they were opposed to, nor was it their forte, but it wouldn’t hurt to take a glance ( perhaps they’d learn something new ).
❛ oh ? do you travel often ? you talk about self - pity as if it’s something you’re familiar with. ❜, there’s interest in their words as tan digits run over glass bottles carefully to trace over lettering, their head turning to peer over at their company. it seemed as though all wanderers had their own losses, nima had shared many and asra... countless ( she could see it in his eyes ). but they supposed that’s why they all did what they did, roamed, discovered and learned to escape the cruel actuality they lived --- it was all running.
❛ --- i suppose you could consider it a curse we wanderers have, a way of feeling free at the cost of our own... ❜, a pause. words trapped on their tongue that hung in their air only to be waved away by gentle laughter and a simple step away from the shelf. turning toward the other they clasped their hands together, a means to change the sullen turn their words had taken.
Charged interest could spring at the briefest shift when routine bled into restless languor ( another one of boredom’s most innocent dividends / another repercussion of reaching one’s fated and well deserved epilogue ). ❝ Hoping to make these blue hours less spacious, dove ? ❞
A soft lingering drawl, saccharine and amiable, mouth corners crisply curled into a look of hospitable warmth, lulling even as his chest dances with the avarice of vicious discovery.
Eyes shift to the illusion.
❝ You must be parched, night traveler. ❞
@apprenentice·
slow amusement dazzled over partially concealed features, fingers grasping to pull down at the hood they wore and from it came their head raised high ( not enough to present haughtiness, but instead a show of confidence. of intrigue ).
there was a faint hum in the air, a quiet breeze that passed through them, and it wasn’t difficult to tell they were in a world beyond their own ( they were the one who summoned themselves there, after all ) --- their figure was evidence enough. a vague illusion, a means of exploring a reality they’d stumbled across ( even for a single moment ); the world around them was stunning, and yet nothing fanned the flames of their curiosity more than the figure before them.
❛ always this friendly to lonely travelers ?❜, they tease, eyes squinting subtly as if scanning him ( friend or foe ? normally they had a good sense for these things but magic was rather tricky --- ).
❛ depends on what you’re offering. it’d be wrong of me to say i’m impartial, but it never hurts to be cautious,
right ? ❜
Time & again boys are raised to be men
impatient they start, fearful they end
——-but here was a man mourning tomorrow
he drank but finally drowned in his sorrow
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quiet evenings secluded within the privatest of areas amid the vast castle were shared more frequently than the sorcerer had come to realize, heavy tomes weighed heftily between dual paired hands & scattered scriptures filled to completion with scribbled eccentricities, from old hidden mages long since passed onward, were tossed around in disarray– evidence of where there’d once been interest, only to pass on to the next subject they’d both equally shared a profound curiosity & adoration for.
one might even say that admiration extended FAR beyond the reaches of dust slathered books encased with wondrous words of mystique, beguiling in nature & yet nima, for all their devout admiration of that captivatingly written – if not confusing – world, couldn’t help but every so often cast a slight eye at the man beside them. ( beguiling in nature much like the quill written ramblings were, beguiling in nature & eager to capture & behold the attention of a mage sly enough to let such feelings fall unknown. in the darker corners of her subconscious where they belonged )
it happened once, twice, thrice– a casual glance over, a mere study of their slowly warming friend, his gentleness & attention to their beloved magic & the sadness they shared at the hands of a family ( his very own ) & the fierceness he shared when they spoke of such things. truly, who could blame them for warming up to the prince? had nima known previous, they weren’t so sure even THEN they’d be able to freely blame theirself for softly, slowly, easily falling more enraptured the more time that was spent.
whether it was in the secret lessons they shared, eagerly taught sword fights & magical focusing alike, or the quiet times they’d slip into softness. slip into amusement, lips tilted as they shared brief dances once or twice with a burst of laughter slipping from one another, each to it’s own a shared delight. things that equally nima upheld their love for, each having a very specific thing in common ( a very specific person ), and yet there’d be nothing but the sheer roaring in their ears that’d convince them more of the person by their side; someone they’d delight in holding hands with, maybe fingers intertwined and laced at the sides, sly smiles in front of officials but soft– oh so gentle & sweet kisses delicately placed upon lips, upon skin. ( there were only so many excuses one could make about how much of a delight it was to spend time with one person until evidence found out, sure enough, it was more than just a hapless curiosity, fun or bitter interest )
these things that may encroach upon their mind and yet easily be pushed to the ground. crushed under fearful, tear stained, fists coupled with heaving breaths & the constant reminder, repetitiveness, that gave them the self-assurance required NECESSARY to continue with their day, with their life. for all the wonders they shared, the adamant roar to adventure forth & explore the world for all it held, instability in theirself was a weakness that they weren’t keen on letting to the surface.
you love, people leave, you love, people die, you love, people lose. rejection, failure, regret, bitterness that left a biting cut at the edge of her mind. at the reach of her memories. how many times would they refuse themself the right to love, the right to push themselves and hold their head high with the knowledge that refusal may be imminent but may not– be at calm with the answer given to them. how many times would they fight the never ending storm that wracked their fearfilled body, how many times would they reject & push back the love & care they felt for another– the wish to proclaim that they loved another, romantically or otherwise, the WANT & NEED to HOLD another and support them without the constant suffocation.
the suffocation, the cloying, dragging suffocation that dug at their lungs & brought tears to their eyes. a bitter pill to swallow & one they thought they hardly would ever bring themselves to do. so they wouldn’t, they’ll just sit and contemplate, think think think. push dire feelings to the surface & relinquish the little hold they had on their sensibilities, grab a hold of the reigns to feel in control again, control of who they are– their emotions made them feel safe. there was never any safety net in allowing your heart to fall into anothers hands so they wouldn’t.
they’d sit there in the quiet library with a solitary prince who burned brightly like the sun & shone embers within the palm of his hands, eager to warm her from the ground up. carefully watching, observing, quiet flirtatious quips slipping in here and there only to have offers smothered & quiet, friendly yet slowly distant, teasing slip into play.
they’d smudge down these emotions they knew full well weren’t just hapless feelings or the thrill they got from adventure, no they were in love but there would never be any proclamation as to such. not until they’d worn themselves thin, became so torn & eventually– oh god eventually, began to believe, truly believe, it was time to lay their hands & heart in the soul of another. another they could trust & bear their everything to.
but for right now they’d sit side to side & read out the old smudged scribbles from a dusty, weighty, tome they’d found hidden somewhere like a treasure in the sand. voice wavering & words stuttering every so often as turbulent thoughts ran through only to be smudged, control gained, & a throat being cleared coupled with a witty quip.
if they pretended it was nothing everything would be okay, their world would stay the same & shaky as they were? they were utterly content.
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