piscesnebula | i saw the crescent, you saw the whole of the moon [ acheron + black swan ]

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i saw the crescent, you saw the whole of the moon [ acheron + black swan ]

i spoke about wings, you just flew

(continued from here)

Originally Acheron had every bit of intent to act upon the feeling she felt were she given the opportunity. It almost was like the Trailblazer themselves were her target, her quarry, but it is unknown as to why. She would have focused on them and tried seeing if their uneasy trust within her goes far enough but she has in fact caught on to the Memokeeper as being able to pick out such things. She could have gone hunting for them despite what Aventurine says; so why has she not, that power of hers is capable of it and she is by no means easy to restrain with the way she moves between each part of the dream.

Inferno was not even difficult for her to slay. She knew what he might do had she not and had seen it clearly. His intentions was to blow up Penacony with his children. The children who ran away from the scene at the sight of her doing something quite truthfully impossible. Killing a being that should be immortal. The phase flame was extinguished, she cut it down all without a second thought and he did not revive giving some manner of pointing toward Finality on who blessed her.

She is far kinder than what Aventurine was making her out to be however in general; she has yet to go hunting for the Trailblazer. Then there's her refusal to draw her blade again, her attempts at keeping her abilities back unless she must. It was a mistake attempting to use it on Aventurine but no matter her not being so used to that, she'd figure out something once she finds herself back within the bubbles. Hedonistic pleasures and delights strewn about with her seeming like the only person out of place; their thoughts do cause her to be cautious in how she feels them but they pay her no attention.

The Stellaron Hunter, he was formidable though she managed to defeat him and get away to rethink her next move. Or so she tells herself as something else stays there. The gnawing feeling as glimpses of memory plays about, the Memokeeper's lips soft and warm as they joined briefly. A part of her managed to be strong enough to stay clear in the chaos of her mind.

A feat which none can say they obtained.

There was a feeling in Acheron and it was familiar, familiar eyes, movements following her as she wanders. She knows who it is, that is what the presence tells hers. Her heart tightens, as if a wish has been answered. Although she would not be calling out Black Swan so that she may do as she wishes, even if she so dearly wishes to drink in her warmth. To devour it like sweet pleasures on her tongue beyond what this place has often gave patrons.

That is, until Acheron notices and spots her. The object of her thoughts and her smile as she stands outside the gala with her. What was once glimpses, their conversation and everything makes it's way back within her mind. The Memokeeper. A dance once more as she turns to face her properly followed by a bow before she takes the offered hand. Yes. This was what she wanted. To see her again, fully.

"....it would be my pleasure." She takes this invitation, a stroke of fortune that this had brought out memories that should have been lost in the chaos of her mind. Something that must speak volumes on how strong her feelings must be.

Or maybe, it runs far deeper than Acheron has yet to realize even as she knows, she would be this woman's dance partner for eternity if it meant she could see her more.

It's so fascinating to be surprised by somebody's memory.

In the split-second before Acheron replies, Black Swan wonders if she will be remembered. Acheron had explained that her memory tended to hold on to strong emotion better, but Black Swan wasn't quite sure if she'd inspired such strength of feeling in their first meeting or, indeed, their second meeting at the ball. She knows she makes for a unique impression to most, but she doesn't know how strong of an emotion Acheron needed. Her memory doesn't work like those typically impaired with dementia, or amnesia, or just plain forgetfulness.

So, she's pleasantly surprised when Acheron does seem to remember her. Some of her, at least, if not the whole of her.

Black Swan's lips curve in a satisfied smile, and she gently curls her gloved fingers around Acheron's. "Good," she hums. "I was feeling awfully lonely."

This ball is being held in a building that used to be a theater, and still very much has the trappings of one, gilded golden archways and red curtains. Elegantly dressed people are making their way through the lobby, some of them stopping at a row of booths lined up against a far wall -- people go inside wearing a plain suit, and come out wearing a three-piece tuxedo, or a ballgown, or whatever they wish. It is a dream, after all; changing the appearance of people's clothes is easy. Black Swan doesn't need such technology herself, but she nonetheless guides Acheron over after casting a glance at her wardrobe.

"Your clothes may suit you, my dear, but I'm afraid they're not quite fit for a ball," Black Swan teases. "Here. These booths will allow you to browse for an outfit, and will update your residual dream image automatically."

There was enough, enough of an impression to give her memory just what it needed. The kiss from the first time had given her head something to latch on to, the ball had given her more of a deeper impression for her emotions. It has filled her head with all manner of thoughts once it began to wander back to what was there of her within it.

As Acheron has often put it, this is something that can be hard to achieve. Staying within the chaos of her as something clear and tangible once she feels her heart race a little. That smile. Another thing she wants to keep burned into her memory by that feeling from it at her words. A squeeze is given in turn to the Memokeeper's fingers curling around her own as if in understanding far too well.

Loneliness was something that always follows her. Not a soul dares speak long with her to make an impression and other times she remembered so very little. "Shall I accompany you often then, Memokeeper?" The question was sincere. Sweet even in how she spoke it. "It would be a pity to not have your company more."

Though she did notice her attire was hardly fit for this. Like last time. Acheron must have considered just going in without adhering to dress code until the teasing remark gets her attention with the booths lined up. They were going to need to both have to dress up, that is true. One can change however she pleases any time before the Ranger smiles faintly.

"I don't usually dress up for just anyone," she starts, only letting go of Black Swan's gloved hand once they're in front of the booths. "a sight for the ages, I think, knowing that it will be a first for me." A moment later she steps in one unoccupied booth. The settings weren't hard to work with even for someone like her. Easy to grasp and more before she settles on what she wants to wear. Stepping out, Acheron's change of attire was nothing drastic: a dress jacket of pure white worn over and open to reveal a black dress shirt and tie beneath it, her trousers though nice were covered by heeled boots that go up to her thighs. Surprisingly she had tied back her lengthy hair too. "Is this fine then?" She would hope so, given how out of her depth she is here.

Edited 2024-02-21 00:11 (UTC)

"Oh."

Black Swan isn't quite able to help the soft, surprised exhalation of a sound she makes in response to Acheron's new attire. The Galaxy Ranger is gorgeous; she knew that much already. But something so simple as a suit takes her from beautiful to stunning, and Black Swan has to take a moment to simply... admire the sight. What only adds to the picture is Acheron's clear hesitation, the faint look of tentativeness on her expression gives away how unusual this is for her.

Is being among civilized society really so unusual for a Ranger? Does she really spend all of her time traveling and dispatching threats? It seems like an awfully lonely life. Then again, the life of a Memokeeper is lonely, too. Black Swan typically never feels that way; the memories she wraps herself in are company enough for her. But sometimes it nags at her.

"More than fine, I'd say," she laughs lightly. "You're going to outshine everybody in that ball."

She herself doesn't need the booth, all she needs to do is change the external details of her assumed image. Still, a bit of theatrics is always appreciated, so she gives a twirl, and as she does, her clothes change with a shimmer, turning into a long black dress, lace at her throat, gloves up to elbow. Her veil remains. Considerably understated compared to the ballgowns around her, but Black Swan doesn't think she'd suit so many ruffles.

She takes Acheron's arm, smiling over at her as she guides them toward the entrance. "There. Now we're fit to be seen at such a high society event. With the Family's invitation to so many esteemed guests, no doubt there will be even more important people here than usual. We'll have to be on our best behavior."

A lonely existence, even now she finds herself still feeling that. Her head as it is only stays calmed, fixating on Black Swan instead with her heart near pounding quietly. The way the Memokeeper looks at her; she feels as if she had done something right even as her faint hesitation fades. Like she would be as she said, outshining those around them.

However, it's the sight of her twirl and change that causes Acheron to feel breathless. Gorgeous. She couldn't help the way she stares like the other woman is the only thing in her lonely and colorless world worth the attention. The wish to see more of before she snaps back into reality. Her cheeks faintly dusted pink as a reminder to herself to not stare like that for long.

"I would think that should go to you," breathlessly she speaks, her eyes like the void yet not wouldn't dare look away from her. "you're beautiful, truly, if I were to see more of you I'd welcome it." Maybe she lays on a little thick but something about her brings it out.

The desire to see more of her and even his her dreams slowly changed from an empty to void to the Memokeeper. Acheron does however straighten out, arm in arm with her hand taking hold of Black Swan's own gloved one to play this part between them all the better. As lonely as her life has been until they met; she found it to be a necessity that was being challenged piece by piece.

She can behave, she thinks. Hiccups aside from her own memory deciding to flare into something, this won't be hard. "I don't tend to misbehave that often." She did seem awfully considerate. The moment in which she seemed as if she might attack the Trailblazer aside, she was thoughtful enough as well. "Though I might consider misbehaving if it were you wanting something instead."

Acheron isn't very subtle, her cheeks pink and a wish upon her lips to see more, and Black Swan smiles, flattered. She gets flirted with often when she chooses to physically manifest, but most of it feels hollow, or simply a tool that she can employ to leverage her way into gathering more memories. There is something... endearingly earnest about Acheron's regard.

They make their way into the ballroom. It's a beautiful place, this retrofitted theater; balconies line the high walls where people can retreat for a private moment, the stage with its red curtains bears a live band, and where before there must have been seats, there is now a large floor for dancing, lined with tables of drinks and food. It's populated with elegantly dressed people, laughing, dancing, mingling. To Black Swan's eye, beautiful memories are being made, and it fills with her a warmth like a bonfire, the pleasant emotions like sunshine on her skin.

"Well, I'll keep my eyes open," she hums. "If I see an opportunity for to misbehave in service of the greater good, or perhaps just a bit of fun, I'll be sure to let you know."

She gently squeezes Acheron's fingers, smiling.

"Shall we dance, my dear?" Black Swan asks. "You did so impress me the first time; the second time can only be better."

Subtly never was her forte, after all. She doesn't always feel this way, better yet she rarely if ever took to someone that way she did Black Swan so easily. There was something that captivates a fleeting beauty like the Ranger and she only chases it more as they look at one another. The type of woman that someone like her would want to keep close were she normal, were they both more normal. Or perhaps this way was better where they can freely pursue such desires.

Chase and follow as she keeps near the Memokeeper; luckily they weren't causing her head to feel as if it was swimming. Acheron was thankful for it, she didn't want to ruin this moment as she notices the pleasant heat to Black Swan. How she's positively glowing in response to those around them. Something which her mind is quick to take in as another point to make the Ranger never let her out of her mind before her attention turns back to her words. She almost became lost in thought, but she finds it easy to with how lovely her company is in how she keeps staring.

Like she's the only person worth such attention and more when she smiles faintly. "I can do either," she does laugh, the melancholy of it faded to something a bit happier. "maybe with a guarantee to make it something enjoyable I hope were it for fun." It is a rarity for such moments and the emotions of it tended to make her feel as if she isn't an empty husk.

With that said, she does nod to Black Swan's question. Hand in hand, she switches on this dancefloor her attention to being on the Memokeeper only. Whatever else they may perhaps do can be something to think about for later as the band starts to change the music. Something energetic and meant to get the patrons moving with their partner of choice; she can try and make this work given she was a quick learner.

Once they both were ready, Acheron moves with her gracefully, never once letting go of her nor allowing herself to lose her concentration. Nor would she dare allow herself to break her attentive gaze either, this dancefloor was theirs, this little world they were within belongs to them alone. As if the other partygoers were more an afterthought to the Ranger with someone as beautiful as her before her eyes.

"....I haven't had time to practice," yet that doesn't stop her. "but I find it easy, this dance we do together. Wanting to see you and wanting to keep dancing."

Edited 2024-02-24 21:03 (UTC)

Though she hasn't been given much opportunity in her life to dance with a partner, Black Swan enjoys it nonetheless, and it's easy to pluck some memories from nearby patrons to ensure she knows the steps. It's a quick tempo, something meant to move to, and it makes the game they're playing that much more fun.

Acheron is delightfully graceful; as talented at this, Black Swan presumes, as she is in the dance of battle. And Black Swan's gaze is fixed, looking deep into Acheron's own, like they're the only two that exist on the dancefloor. By all right, to a Memokeeper's senses, Acheron should feel unpleasant -- the barbed wire wrapped around her memories, the chill of inevitibility that radiates off her, the sheer power of an Emanator, like standing next to a solar flare. But Black Swan has never put much stock into the concept of negative everyday sensations. She likes it when she gets caught in the rain and her clothes get soaked. She likes it when she bumps into somebody and spills her drink. She likes it when it's freezing cold. All of these things are beautiful human experiences -- and so, too, is Acheron's presence. That black hole tempered by her gentle touch, those spiny thorns softened by her empathetic gaze.

"Well, you may lack practice, but that seems to have absolutely no bearing on the final product," Black Swan laughs. "You're an excellent dancer, darling."

She lets a small pause elapse, and then, somewhere between polite and curious, she follows up with:

"Are you terribly busy with the business you have here? I'm a little surprised a Galaxy Ranger has time in their schedule to indulge me."

As suspected, Acheron's grace tempered by the tempo in battle is excellent in this form. Like moving and following a set rhythm as she stands close to her; the unending black hole within her always there and like something that seeks to devour. She holds it back, within her, the movements a sweet dance as fast paced as this dance together between them is. One would avoid her or often times avoid what was meant to be something dangerous. Hungering, lurking, prowling as it carves apart a path of its own. Embracing both meaningless life and sweet death. It all does that within her, fighting away as Acheron herself clings to the notion that there is something with meaning in living and feeling emotions.

In being alive as she finds this soothing touch, this way they play their game together, as a reminder to herself. She breathes and she's alive. She isn't dead nor would she ever be gone away from the sight of humanity as long as she believes that there is meaning. That in a meaningless existence, that they all would be alive. That the struggle of all around her is worth this desire, this want of hers, to live beyond what was pre-determined no matter the barbed wire around her head. It would be what she might have wanted in the end. That no matter the outcome one of them would be alive.

As for once, she briefly thinks of something: a glimpse, a voice of a girl under the stars as they sat together only for it to fade away as quickly as it came from this gentle reminder. "Thank you, truly, I wouldn't want to ruin it," she smiles, Acheron hardly minding that as what once had appeared is gone. No longer in sight. "especially if we will be doing this more often, Memokeeper."

The question though. Right, she did have business here, but things were far more complicated than just that. Even for an Emanator as much as she says nothing on who blessed her in this moment. She saw no reason to tell anyone, though maybe Black Swan will learn unlike the rest as she finally speaks:

"It's sadly complicated, as you know already, I'm not going to risk making you my enemy no matter my own objectives." She wouldn't risk that to begin with. "Even if it might result in a fight between both sides; I apologize greatly, I would hate to in the end go that far. Nor would I dare try using something that wouldn't work on you."

Her power over words, is what she meant. Since there was a subtle feeling Black Swan noticed the way her words were effecting the Trailblazer.

Will they be doing this more often, Black Swan wonders? If she has her way, certainly they will be. No matter their individual missions, Black Swan keeps finding herself drawn back to Acheron like a curious moth to a blazing flame.

As they dance, her hand settles on Acheron's waist, gloved fingers curled over the enticing swell of her hip. For a moment, Black Swan almost regrets inviting Acheron to change into the suit: were she in her normal outfit, Black Swan would be touching bare skin. Alas, she's simply enjoying this suit far too much, even if it does show less skin.

"If our objectives do wind up clashing in such a way that ends with a confrontation, I won't take it personally," she hums. She knows what Acheron means with her final promise; that strange echo in her words when she'd spoken to the Trailblazer of the Express, a subtle hook to compel. Such a trick may or may not work on Black Swan. Certainly, she's more resistant to mind tricks than most. "You're dedicated to your job, as am I."

She leads them in a spin, and then dips Acheron with a playful smile, lingering close before letting her back up so they can begin moving once more.

"I wouldn't mind seeing you in a proper fight sometime," she says slyly. "If your dancing is anything to go by, your fighting must be simply spectacular."

Dancing, midnight rendezvous or rather, perpetual midnight rendezvous given the Golden Hour; time spent likely more with Acheron being watched as she wanders this decadent place of hedonistic pleasures intending on attempting to make herself remember the way around. Had she not, she likely would have gotten lost more often that she'd have enjoyed given circumstances. There was much to do if she were to succeed in the end of it as a woman who is the most unlikely of Emanator's in the way she does not say just who blessed her, who made her into this person who finds herself enchanted by an elegant beauty.

An elegant beauty who luckily would not notice the way her body near wishes she would have been able to feel along her bare hip. Along the muscle she built, the old scars from her travels. The body of a warrior who carries herself strongly and no matter certain other issues; she does not intend to ever stop whether she almost falls or not. Though she is relieved to hear that.

Knowing that she wouldn't take it personally, it helps her. She did want to keep their relationship no matter what Acheron's done as something near and dear to her heart. "Thank you. I do suspect it can happen, just not when it can," her words are soft, at ease with that faint smile of hers. Although she won't be testing that with her manner of compulsions toward others; she can be forceful just as much as she can be gentle with that. "....I like to think that as tiring as it is, that I am doing plenty good."

Or so she tells herself, when in that moment she finds herself dipped by Black Swan she gets reminded. The kiss, their lips so very near as the image flashes back to mind. Her warm breath against the Memokeeper's own lips as she feels that underlying urge to do it again. Kiss this woman and let her mind be free of thoughts only for them to part again once they're back in position.

For that, her arm similarly goes around Black Swan's waist properly. Hand resting on the opposite hip as she feels a compulsion of her own in the way the steps become a little more filled with heat. Energy and a wish to be close in how she starts to lead her. "Maybe later." She does of course mean that, it would be later were she to do it. "If I show you, it would have to be out of sight from others. What I would show you, that is, must be." Since this is not her true body. Not how she truly looks any longer nor would it ever be.

Black Swan, too, suspects they will inevitably clash at some point. There are so many in Penacony with their own agendas right now -- the Ranger, the Memokeeper, the Masked Fool, the Trailblazer, the Stowaway, the Stellaron Hunter, the Stoneheart -- there's bound to be some overlap.

She's honestly not sure who would win in a fight. Acheron is, no doubt, a formidable nemesis, stronger than most. But Black Swan has the ability to reach inside a mind and make them simply forget that they ever wanted to fight her, or to forget her presence entirely. Could she do the same to Acheron? She suspects that trying would result in Black Swan getting lost in the maze of Acheron's mind for some time. Would she ever be able to find her way out?

Perhaps it would be easier to let the fight happen, and plan for her own defeat.

Acheron's need for a private show is intriguing. Black Swan's eyebrows tip upward slightly, her gaze curious, though she doesn't ask the question just yet. "I'm sure privacy could be arranged," she says, smiling slyly. "How privileged I must be, to see a sight you don't allow others to view."

With one final twirl, the music changes song to something slower. With Acheron's arm around her waist, Black Swan rests her arm at the back of Acheron's shoulders, hand splayed over her shoulderblade. She shifts closer, that energy turning into something more intimate.

Were there one thing she plans on, she intended to watch her back if that Stellaron Hunter makes himself known again. Fighting him was not easy. The heat aside, she almost had to draw her blade against him fully; a dangerous prospect since if unfortunate, Acheron would not remember what has happened after nor where, if not how, she got there again.

A small blessing is that despite the large confusion in her own obtainment of IX's gaze, she is fortunate to have a difficult mind to crack. Hard to see into, to perceive fully unless somehow the Ranger opens it up. Not just to herself but to Black Swan, although she would not be sure if such a thing can happen. In how she's forgotten most of her life there was little hope in such an endeavor.

And even then, she would feel terrible if the Memokeeper becomes lost in that hell she calls her own head. Perhaps a reason why she wouldn't dare want to face her. Having actual company is....pleasant. So very much so, to the point she would find adjusting back to being alone as being difficult as she's considered earlier.

"Then eventually." A promise, a faint smile and everything given. It was interesting relearning emotions, everything that goes with it, after spending so much time alone, so long of it trying to clutch tightly on to this feeling. "I don't give my word lightly."

The slow and intimate tone of this next song causes Acheron to dance closely with her. An unexpected shift as the intimacy in this moment with gentle swaying, hands upon one another down to the thought again being there. Of that kiss she gave her; by all means she wonders to herself how that helped her. The memory and impressions of everything rarely sticks the way this did between them. "....I must confess, I never knew that I could want so strongly to never forget someone."

The way Acheron looks at her is flattering -- like she's rediscovering something vital, or learning it for the first time.

It's an interesting insight into a fractured mind. This can't be the first time that anybody has ever seriously flirted with the Ranger; she's a gorgeous woman, strength and power packed into the lean lines of her body, even her dangerous aura wouldn't keep all potential suitors at bay. But is it truly the first time she has wanted to cling to the memory of someone so tightly?

Did she never have a teenage crush, or the young love of a new adult? Has she never been in a relationship? Or did she have all of those things, and they've been forgotten in the black hole of her mind?

It's an awful thing, losing so much memory. So much of a unique, beautiful existence is lost.

"It's been a while since I manifested a physical form so readily," Black Swan replies, smiling as they continue to dance, their movements slower, now, steadier. "For my job, I mostly exist as a phantom. An idea. The body you're touching right now is merely a projection made real, temporarily. I don't often need to interact with the world so much, but... I find that experiencing things with you has made me want to be tangible and real for a moment."

The only other person who has this honor is gone, vague memories of time spent on a journey that would end one and leave the other no longer who she once was. Happy smiles, laughter and gentle tones. A fire roaring as they surprisingly would roast marshmallows.

Sadly this memory does not resurface if any at all. However, she must admit attraction is interesting. Acheron is beautiful and she knows it; there was little else it does when those who tried did not stay. She didn't feel this sudden spark specifically with them, she felt nothing except brief fleeting moments of a smile, the faces of the women were forgotten, their voices faded as though they were never there.

Young love, teenage crushes, if any existed for her she knew not. Instead she looks upon this beautiful yet gorgeous woman like she's seen in ages for the first time her heart. Her heart beats faster, her mind fights against the black hole to cling. All to a Memokeeper. Another Emanator like her but not like her.

As they carry on this dance she only finds she's falling deeper. How far can this woman take her into an embrace only they would know? Acheron can't say. She only hopes that this feeling never leaves, the beauty of the warmth of it.

The joy as she listens, were she still normal she likely would have blushed. The Ranger can feel that much so instead she smiles. "I see...." she starts, her arms soon properly going around Black Swan in this slow dance of the heart in their little moment. "I'm honored, Memokeeper, is there anything else you wish to feel tonight together with me?" Whatever else there is then Acheron would surely grant it.

Black Swan's smile turns sly, but she just winks, and says nothing.

Oh, she could be crass if she wanted, and indulge in heavy innuendo, but she rather likes building things up like a crescendo in a piece of classic music. She likes the rising energy, the anticipation, the excitement. To be obvious would be doing away with a lot of that.

For a while, they just dance, and Black Swan delights in the feelings of closeness, of the warmth of Acheron's skin and the confidence of her hands. It's easy to get swept along with the music and the mood, and the beautiful woman in her arms. The lights have dimmed for this slower dance, and couples sway alongside them, each of them in their own worlds. Black Swan could cultivate a lot of pretty memories here; she may pluck one or two, later, of particular merit. But right now, her focus is on Acheron.

"I have a mind to treat you tonight," she says eventually. "If you could spare the time, obviously. I heard of a restaurant here held in particularly high esteem; would you care to dine with me?"

Oh.

The way she winks is enough to tell her that much. There is more, even Acheron desires it as she plays this game with her. Dancing like lovers, the slow tempo naturally keeping her together. Swaying, their bodies close, and her hands comfortably keeping this gorgeous woman close to her. The emotions of it would make for something beautiful for Acheron to remember. The way her mind works, she would be able to call upon this memory with ease. Something that would not be lost in that depths of her minds endless vaults within it.

As the song eases into its end, she finds herself smiling just a little more. Another invitation, huh? "I'd love to." There is no question in that as the music shifts into something else. A tango. She can remember that then as the passion of it flares. The gentle start causing Acheron to stand ready with the Memokeeper in her care. She can do this too. Their own bubble, their own world, as the music begins to pick up the energy and tempo with her leading. Confidence showing in every step as the tones are more than enough to fill in how she should be moving.

Like lovers. Or perhaps like something more in the way Acheron looks at Black Swan. That endlessly deep gaze of hers unable to stop or unable to ever look away from her during this time in which they meet. Beautiful. Hauntingly so, knowing that her dreams at night have been full of the other woman. Chaste and not chaste as they keep filling that monochrome she is so very used to with purple hues. A silent wish within her, she wants that to stay.

The acceptance of her proposal makes Black Swan smile, an edge of satisfaction in it.

There are many players on this stage of Penacony right now, but none are more special than Acheron. Black Swan knows it even as she knows nothing of what lays inside that head; she's going off of instinct, off of the story she's pieced together, off of the aura of power that surrounds the apparent Ranger. She's been following her trail for some time now, a wandering path all over the cosmos.

As the music shifts to the slow start of a tango, Black Swan's smile deepens.

"A bold dance. Do you know it?" she asks, even as the answer is evident, even as they begin to move together with confident steps. "Does the life of a Ranger often give you the opportunity to dance, or am I special?"

Of course Acheron saw no reason to deny it. The proposal was every bit something she desired knowing she felt something far stronger than before. Nothing could compare as her heart feels as if it beats faster; emotions that once were fading away now there. Demanding, craving, as she wants this warmth. The sight of her does things she can't even describe.

So why, why can she not forget her? Her guard finds itself lowered, just enough in this closeness as they move. As she follows on instinct the movements here.

She doesn't know the dance the way others would, instead she goes off feeling from the atmosphere between them. Her hands in more intimate positions as if that was more natural. Natural to a being that shouldn't even be there as she lies so boldly on who she is. Harmony has no place for a monster like Acheron.

A being of Nihility who dances so closely with a woman of Remembrance. The question makes indeed her heart want to fly, she only has ever danced with her. Just her alone. No matter her steps at times going off rhythm a little, it was only her. "....I only ever have done this with you." She wants to, forever, as they move to this tempo before them deeper. Enraptured and falling, desiring. What has this woman done to her? She doesn't know nor does she want this to fade like everything else.

Edited 2024-04-04 01:52 (UTC)

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i saw the crescent, you saw the whole of the moon [ acheron + black swan ]

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