something somewhere out there keeps calling
SEEKING RAKUEN
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Her blank russet facial expression as he introduced himself had changed, if not just by a small bit. However, the male caught onto it graciously, allowing himself to rely on the idea that she too was mortal. And the moment he spoke of her searching for what could not be found at this point in time... she was all ears. Suddenly her whole attitude changed from stoic to awestruck-- if that was even a word to use for such a pecuilar sight as the one she placed in front of him now. Elora suddenly was imposing on the gracious space that the soldier had put in between them curtesy of her own comfort. His duo-toned looking glass's suddenly stopped their anxious side-tracked appearance, meeting her own lookers head on. Her lips parted, opening her voice to the world around them. Was it wrong... for him to bring that up? Were the two of them even thinking of the same thing? The regal's plummage lifted ever so slightly, a small sign of the discomfort that was starting to burn within his abdomen-- it grew stronger as soon as her words were released from the confines of her ivory-lined jowls. You know of what I seek? The words are soft and lyrical. Music to the phantom's domes. What was that? That which lingered under her very skin? Darc's invisible brows furrowed ever so slightly, a sort of disruptive panic setting into his beating heart. If she was indeed asking of what he was speaking of, he should find it as no surprise. Stories of Paradise had been passed down for generations in the lands that Iason and he had been born into. When his own sire took his last breath, the customary death bed was lain out for him... and words that meant nothing to Darcia himself were spoken. That story... the bloodlines Darcia held behind his cloak... that was a secret that not even Iason knew of. The reason as to why the male had chosen Bright Moon despite all the choices offered to him.
And as of right now, the newly appointed monarch felt as if this girl that he barely knew was attempting to pry into that secret. Was this why she had set an alarm off in him from the start? The pure desire in her lookers was something that tugged at the rope wrapped secretly round his dark nape. But Darcia stayed silent, his mouth never opening and his throat emitting no sound. He would wait to see just how earnest this femora was. Why she was so intruiged with the idea that he, of all creatures, might know just what she was poking her nose around for. She had moved closer to him by this time, the distance suddenly too interesting to be unnerving. Her jade portals took in his amber and sea-foam ones, never breaking contact. Her feminine form small compared to his own, he looks down towards her, auds pricked to attention as her words continue as he had hoped they would. Where? Show me, please... A small exhaled escaped his frozen lungs after an extensive moment of silence. He moved his physique and moved past her, flicking his dark tassel so that she may know that if she would like an answer to her question, she ahd best follow him. Of course, what he brought her to was not what she would be looking for. But it was the source of the commotion that had occured within his heart the day he had challenged Ambrosia.
He stopped when they had reached one of the most inner areas of Bright Moon. Coincidence? Darcia should think not. Things never happened just by chance. Synchronicity was not real. It was all inevitability that turned the gears that the world operated with. They were here, lost to the soil. Or so he believed. The scent here was the thickest he had ever picked up on. Now, his voice was hoarse and he closed his windows... if she had followed him... he knew not of what he was to do now. Just sit there? Darcia felt no ownership over the aroma that had dragged him here in the first place. After all, hardly any vargs in this age took the tales of their elders to be serious and straightforward. But if that was true... then why was Elora so bent on it..? Their grave is something I will protect with my life. It is up to them whether or not they will choose to rise once more-- the least I can do is give them the power to choose. Suddenly Darcia wanted to walk away from this one. Cast it to the ever-changing winds that blew through the plain and allow it to take its own course. And if it was that Elora had not been speaking about such a thing as the Lunar Flower... then Darcia would certainly be the fool. But, what was strange... was that the Lord moved so that he was nowhere near to the lady. As if she repelled him as magnets will. The clearing was not big per-say. Just surrounded by a few trees that were placed elegantly around. His next words were strange to his own listeners... but his throat urged for their release. I think it would be best for you to steer clear of me from now on, Elora. Do not get too close. The lyrics were not full of hatred. They held no sign of ill intentions inside of them. Instead, they held an air of regret... and as the brujo turned away from both the maiden and the graves themselves, he went over the precise reason as to why. If she could smell the flowers... then the lovely curse of his bloodline would take its toll once more, just as it had his own origin.
darcia
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