Christmas-Present for Jovi [ @luciferborn ] ♡♡♡~
The shimmering lights in the grandeur of a castle, illuminated with countless of candles, with the subtle glimmering souls, set deeply in chests whenever they catch glimpse here and there about this or that murmuring little secret hushedly breathed into the warm and encompassing air. It’s beautiful. Embellished with scents unknown to anybody else [ and how they craved to hold and keep in arms, circled close as embrace, what never was theirs to touch, could be burned to ashes by the smallest grace ]. Scents they only breathe in around one another and carry themselves through any sense.
Their eyes. Their ears. Their noses. Their mouth, lips tingling with the delight, and subtle feel of thumb gracing along bottom lip - completely and utterly captivated by one another, drowning out whoever is just around them. Whoever might take place in the night.
It was amusing for those that know the pair. That were aware of the noble engagement’s antics, found delight in it and diversion settling deeply in eyes [ a drowning low chuckle as an answer to the song - before the next set rhythm would captivate them again ]. They danced - and danced. Forgotten was the whole surrounding in their swinging back and forth, cradling each other in adoring arms, to find a footing, find their steps. And each create a new reign, a new move, a new lead. It was unbeknownst to those around them, that they did not truly need to speak.
Words, those disposable little human creations, how they were replaced with songs of love and rhymes of adoration - each hum and breath - another tune to their everlasting lullaby. It’s a beautiful exposure of deeply settled love. Love unlike any other [ and nowhere ever to be found ]. She breathes when his hands do trace, do move and linger - set palm flat with one on slender waist. The sway of thoughts, to the sway of music, a dip that followed, set her a laughter to a chime. Draws a hum just moments later, when eyes of brilliantly darkened shine find his of hellfire furnace, burning so bright.
That chuckle that had broken the fine and lingering waltz - came from the man setting parade to the hour - that had invited them inside. Their dearest relative was surely smitten like any else [ but he, in comparison just, had permission, allowance, and would never raise a word ]. Let them dance, so Vlad thinks, seated aside on higher throne. Let them dance, and get lost, for their wars and fights are not long enough gone.
So they do, with each and every change of a song, with the way they laugh and smile and so far withdrawn. And suddenly, the notes do demand their setting steps to halt, so they stand just beside one another, would look at each other, not a single eye to be torn away [ nothing around them, past the ground beneath their feet, and the music singing with orchestra throughout the air, nothing just, was truly important here ]. They stare and watch and get lost inside each other. With hands interlinked, with their feet locked to another set of steps, following the known and rehearsed dance to a ballad, that was only natural, only a flowing cadence to a thrum. It’s an embellishing masterpiece they both are entangled in.
A beautiful tale spoken with pictures and movements sure alone.
They are a picture perfect engagement of pulchritude. The perfect harmony of yin and yang.Her clad in white. Him dressed in black. The way it clashes, and melts into another anew. She was like an angel so soft and clear - the purity of long flowing fabrics, gold and silver, here and there. He was like a storm, a devil in a human’s disguise - complimenting, with how he swallows her whole, and still was shining through her light.
Clean and clear, the whole place of ball just was.
None was to dare to step up with them, all were to made to leave them to their love. The next set of notes was driving them again. The next set of sounds, by violin and piano sung, was made for them to twirl anew. She fastens a hand upon his shoulder, has him guide her time and time around. He places a hand, along the hem and seams of her back, feeling pale skin, and the softness about. How they appeared just, like being taken out of dream. Of an age-old, centuries gone fairy tale, now breathed to life, within this time. Within these seconds ticking away [ does it not remind of those old stories told to children’s generations again and again? ]. Do they not feel and seem and move like taken out of a painting’s pulchritude?
Like they danced just out of something their Lord’s thoughts would allude?
As if they weren’t even real. Weren’t even people, beings with souls and hearts one was able to touch. Those softened sounds that swirled around them. Those thoughts and ideas, that set a smile to her husband’s lips [ she could have asked, could have inquired, it meant nothing at all - he would let her in soon enough ]. She laughs once again, with the whirl of feet spinning over the floor, his arm to raise higher, let her through with a pirouette, so that layers upon layers, made of satin and brocade, would dance with an unknown wind to the tune.
They were taken out of a dream. In the whisps of an upcoming night [ hauntingly beautiful nightmares in human forms ], brought to life. Just with each and every melodiousness catching strings of chords in the fine lining of adorned vest clinging perfectly to broad chest. How she just appears like a doll, held by silvery string attached to long fingers of her partner’s hold. How she swirls and moves - and was just surely free. Dancing with a love, unknown to mankind as a whole. She laughs again, before the next reign of captivating bells would break around them in fine crystalline waves. She laughs in the subtle purity of a caught up moment.
And winds arms around his neck, when once she’s dipped again.
Keeps him close and ever closer, pressed so tightly against him. She could have murmured words of love, could have whispered in a thousand different tongues. Could have turned and twisted him about, and smiles just like the new day’s birth. All those that try to listen in, greedily, eerily, disturbing picture of pure fervour’s worth. All those that wanted, what they were never permit to hold, drowned out with softness of a lingering kiss. A brush of lips. A breath in time, tasted, shared [ breathe in me, never leave me, bring me life as only I do live through you, for you ]. The softness of a fleeting moment, the rise of that slender, doll-like form.
He sets her back on her feet. Sets her back into reality’s time.
Sunken still in a dream of bliss. Never meant, to have reason or rhyme.
Applause around them, it meant little to none, for they only exist for one another, are never truly in favour’s gone. She’s endlessly smiling - with how she sees him anew and his eyes do light with a fire, dancing, singing, to a silent tune.
2087
kianamaiart
romaincrisis
germansingergirl
blakekathryn
