(Untitled)

[lethe_forgets]

It's beautiful in its own way. And if one can ignore the dark parts, the cold parts - then it is beautiful beyond all and any other things. The water is clear and the gems along the floor seem to catch on light that doesn't quite shine

Comments

[ironside_pixie]

It's possibly something Lethe can't understand, how even the dark parts are beautiful to Kaye. It's that that makes her mistakes so much worse. She would be lost to it all, the beauty and the blackness if Lethe's fingers weren't grounding her, keeping her tied to the task.

The gait of the blonde girl is more than a little stumbling and she tries not to gasp though every sight of this alien place surprises her. After all, it's no odder than a faerie court.

In her other hand, the sword drags heavily, it feels weighted now and oddly - at the back of her mind - she wonders if they should leave it behind.

"Lethe?" Just a whisper. Small and insignificant. The fear won't be shaken this time.

[lethe_forgets]

They've always been beautiful to her - but, perhaps, it isn't the darkness that she loves as much as how they try to shine. Those silly, hopeful little pieces that fall apart and into each other and she herself is somehow less solid here, more a part of something else than she should be.

The seasons change slowly here and there is no great joy nor sweet flowers. No court is called but the bells of it still ring in memory of the sunspringtimeshine girl with flowers at her feet.

She turns back at her name - the dissonant echo of it, whisper soft and flickering - and stops, poised, head tilted and fingers squeezing tight (still here) thrumming with some soft something, comforting but dark in its own right.

A far off call of voices, half-silent and in languages long gone, and clear water still like glass - and if the sword is heavy she can carry it for now.

[ironside_pixie]

It's not singing. More like a slow, haunting, bubble of speech and Kaye is surprised to find she doesn't understand. Maybe the language of hell is different. Maybe she's not as damned as she believes.

She has to remember now. To know why she's here. Set things right. Fix things. For
him. When she looks at Lethe, she thinks there's a chance it may be for her too. The nymph who speaks of hope and has bright, clear eyes.

"It isn't so scary here..." Her voice grows stronger with every word, though the sound of it terrifies her. It echoes, hollow in the empty air.

[lethe_forgets]

They are his (forever and only) and so it is always for him, but this time - this time it's almost just for them.

To fix things like they are supposed to. Because they are strange, sideways girls with magic in their fingertips.

Her eyes crinkle at the edges, smile quirking up - a bright, impish curve - and she nods like she's proud. It's bravery just to be here and the water catches on the nonexistent light again, twinkling almost pleasantly in a dim reflection of silent laughter - it's still her place and it knows her.