alainn_aislinn: (Distraught dreaming)
She started it up again when I came home with Devin. It was "too bad" I'd birthed a half-mortal whelp, but at least it showed I could breed. I swear to Danu, that was the term she used. I'd proven myself as a Leanan Sidhe, crafting several masterful artists who spanned five decades, and now it was time. All would be forgiven, she told me, as if I had committed a mortal sin in bonding with him, though I think she might have meant Devin, not Byron.

Jewels were woven through my hair, and she went so far as to paint my lips. She dared not use a crown, but a diadem pressed into my forehead with an emerald I swear she spent half a day making sure matched my eyes. My dress was emerald green as well, silk and shadows, and it showed as much as it hid.

Dinner came and she paraded me through the room to the dais like a prize calf at a country fair. Midir was not amused, though his eyes softened when he gazed on me. Pity I am sure, and I could not meet his eyes. He gave leave for me to take my place at Aurelia's side, conveniently, for my mother, next to Ionatan. She drifted away with a warning look.

He looked. He had always looked, from the time I was a child. I would rather have been safe by Fergus' side, but he was on Midir's right and far from me. There were touches, as always, sliding through the silk with only the public place saving me from more, and through it all, her approving smile and hard eyes that said not to misstep.

Dinner ended, finally, and I paid my dues and the next morning I took my son and I left Bri Leith. I didn't go back for fifty more years, until I had found a way to tell them--her and him--no, and make sure they listened forevermore.
alainn_aislinn: (Turn around again)
Tried to fly; ended up trapped.

OMP: Kiss

Jun. 12th, 2007 01:14 pm
alainn_aislinn: (Toxic love)
It always starts with a kiss. It always ends with one, too, but she tries not to think about that too much. It’s there, though, lingering as she watches him in the pub, eyes dark. He’s different, but that’s all right. So is she. He is not an artist, as such, but there is creative energy in him.

She ponders him, watching his fingers, watching his lips. A mystery, and a riddle and that intrigues her. Little else does these days, so points to him for that. The strange behavior of trusting her, she dismisses with a shrug. Foolish creature, if he thinks she is worthy of it. But then, he seems to think she is something else. Knows her, but not, and she wonders, briefly, what this other her must be like in this other world where things did not go the way they went here. When a kiss was never final, and his life had not sucked into her and where he walked the world instead of only being carried in her memory and soul.

She drinks her Guinness, still staring at the stranger and pondering the name he gave her. Theta Sigma. Greek, but he’s not, and she wonders if the translation is purely accurate. The symbols he traced were not, and for a moment the mystery distracts her from the musician on the stage and her purpose here tonight. She has fed, which gives her time to think, but it all circles back again, and there’s a hunger in her eyes as she watches him that has nothing and everything to do with the look in his eyes when he looks at her.

It always starts with a kiss. She wonders what he will taste like.

ooc: Dark!/Canon!Aislinn freaks me out a little...


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December 2007

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