[private] putting roots in my dreamland

[isakov]

throw me in the water, don’t think about the splash i will create
leave me at the altar, knowing all the things you just escaped

He will not always be a soft thing, Isakov.
The world will eventually sharpen his edges and he will inevitably fall victim to the darkness of his magic.

But here, in this moment, he is more prone to kindness than to cruelty. The malice that lives inside him is still just a rumor, a thing that sneaks up on him so rarely that he can almost ignore it altogether.

Here, in this moment, he smiles softly and lets himself be surprised by her delight. (Someday he will not be so surprised, he will come to expect it and it will be a dangerous drug.) Her delight deepens his smile and he exhales an abrupt rush of air, something like a laugh.

She touches him in return and the soft velvet of her muzzle spurs a tremor down the length of his spine. (Someday he will not be so affected by these things, but he is still good now.)

Their focus is shifted rather abruptly to the fireflies dancing between them, though, and he follows one with his gold eye as it breaks free from the others and approaches him. He can feel it tangle itself up in his mane and he takes great care not to shake it free for fear that he might injure it. “Are you telling me they’re not a dream?” he asks, returning his gaze to her face with another slanted smile.

And he laughs at her teasing, a genuine sound that springs up out of his throat before he has a chance to stop it. He shakes his head subtly, still mindful of the buzzing firefly in his mane. “I can see why you would prefer their company,” he murmurs.

isakov

@[Avelina]