Game Mode. Voyager Of The Land. - Tumblr Posts

@deathburns​​ asked; ‘ i am so glad we were born during the same lifetime ’  [ GIVE ME THE GOOD BELLATTE CONTENT ]

►  ❪  POETRY  //  accepting  ❫

         It's quite interesting how life often doesn't go the way you predict and how it chooses instead to fly in the face of plans. The line Ellatte's own life tread was a nostalgic one, diligently followed with points clearly mapped out, marking where it was to head and steered by decisions formed long ago: helping her dearest friend in his responsibility as the Head Warrior of the Celestials. For an age, the best option was tantamount to being the only one in her eyes. A choice easy to accept for she never minded. If she stayed on route that familiar affection born over years of inquisitive pouring over books, speculations and long talks, watching the clouds below, and so much more would await her at the end of it.

         But Ellatte's not in the Sky Temple. She's not by Solaad's side.

         Her path once clear and narrow, slowly branched from the given story meant for her, spiraling into new possibilities. The discovery of other races still inhabiting the earth below an incredible shock to the Clan, calling into question much of the knowledge they knew, and so she volunteered to descend to the mortal realm of Brittannia.

         (  ❝ Ellatte, no ! ❞  Lady Vaness' protests ring through the room, already she can see the frowns of disapproval and disappointed shakes of the head from other council members to her bid.  ❝ This is foolishness ! You cannot do this so suddenly and without knowing the level of danger. Another can take on this task. You must to honor the traditions ! ❞

         It's a first, the age old tradition  ( the Head Warrior and his new wife accepting their new duty, taking custody over the sacred Winged Sword and protecting the clan )  broken with a rite of succession carried out in the most harrowing of times, but the situation has led them all here. If she leaves, she can no longer be considered Solaad's fiancee.

        ❝ I have to refuse. ❞  A cool tone cuts through the chaotic din. Her resolve is not so brittle as to bend and crack under the pressure from detractors.  ❝ Traditions are something to heed the wisdom of, but you know as I do that they also would have been the reason we all died. Meliodas helped us, and everyone chose to brush it aside because he was a demon. What a backwards sense of convenience !  We are Celestials, members of the great Goddess clan, but none of us could have stood up to a monster like the Indura, much less the high rank demons that escaped before that thing !  It's a fact we barely escaped complete destruction, and it's thanks to a demon and his companions that Solaad brought back ! ❞

         Most wrote him off as running away from his duties but Solaad braved this trial – despite needles of skepticism / doubt pricking the softer outer shell, his own fears and misgivings, and the weighty expectations foisted upon his shoulders – and saved his people. This was the least she could do.

         ❝ And now we know that the other clans survived the holy war this whole time ?  I will go to Brittannia and see with my own eyes. I will learn what the world is like now. ❞

         There's other avenues to assist Solaad beyond the ties of marriage and getting a clearer picture of what the world had become over 3000 years would be a good start. Sure, it'd take time but she's only in her 200s, and Solaad was managing fine on his own. She already garnered his approval long before she stepped foot in this room. ( a sunny smile, tittered with slight nerves but accepting of her decision, and she's reminded again of why this must be done. ❝ just be safe, okay ellatte ?  that's all i can ask of you. ❞ ) Her telling them this was really just a courtesy. If it ever became more than she could handle, she could seek out the Seven Deadly Sins for assistance.

         When her mission was complete, it'd be fine if things resumed. A place - her best friend - would be waiting for her. She'd be happy with that. )

         Again, life has trouble adhering to plans. Now she's down here, and much has changed. The dramatic pivot can largely be traced back to one simple connection. The last she ever thought could be made.

         Bellion.

         Her Bellion.

         And it remains a wonder, even after all the time that passed since that became a reality, to be able to say that, to have the confidence to allow it to fall from parted lips so that others may know who her affection has been bestowed upon, to know he let her. Her Bellion. Four syllables fizzing on the tip of her tongue, drawing forth a special kind of warmth–- hers. he's hers and she's his, to love and be loved.

         Perhaps her attentions originally ( strictly ! ) stemmed from an abundance of caution / ill-placed fascination over what instilled the jarring absence of the unrelenting, terror inducing rage presented to her prior - but it to underwent a change. More malleable, adaptable, it had grown into something – no, many things more, the flourish of fondness not the least among them. It’s still strange to think, for a variety of reasons, that a simple happenstance led to these smiles, this laughter, the company / comfort of another, but Ellatte knows she wouldn't give it up. Yes, she loves Solaad, a feeling as sure as the rising of the sun, a care for her friend she always has and will continue to cherish, an irreplaceable bond held close to her heart, but it's different type of intimate love.

         Maybe it's only now she's falling in love for the first time.

         Charmed as she was, Ellatte's normally averse to interrupting his duties. Well, what bits and pieces she has seen of it. After all, she catches him stealing plentiful moments of rest more than actual work. Honestly, it's a wonder the village is still standing  ( she knows, how hard he tries now, to make things better, to move forward from the darkness of his past, vigilant against threats encroaching on his newfound life ). She had just returned from visiting villages to the east, making a beeline straight for the unsuspecting demon. It'd surely be fine to steal him for a night, right ?

         She hadn't announced their destination, simply coaxed him to follow her through the skies until they reached here. A little meadow once privy to only her, now known to them. A steady stream of water falls over the rocky crag into a basin, a swift stream flowing from the natural depression and cutting through the grassy field speckled with a number of varying flowers. Rather difficult for those earthbound, all manners of peril impeding traversal, but when the ease of flight was available such deterrents meant little to those who could simply float far above over them.

         The ground beside her after she seats herself near the river is patted in invitation. And so they rest, lounging on their backs watching the sun close its eyes for another night, cool evening air slowly replacing it. Sunset paints the sky and the curves of their shoulders & jaws, the full of their cheeks in shades of reds, oranges, and pinked purples. The moments in-between are small and quiet, conversation filling the comfortable silence. News of events in the village exchanged for recollections of the places she's traveled to since. Their time together was peppered with occurences like these. Introspective, reflection, an exercise in understanding. Learning, she's always learning new things about him, the world.

         And occasionally, during these stolen moments, where tiredness thrums through their bones, every touch is a soft, gentle thing meant to warm, soothe, comfort. Bellion’s nuzzles have gotten no less surprising, in some ways. Even in the ways they have, they don’t lose how they simply endear her heart - an tension unbeknownst to her drains from her body, shoulders slouching as Ellatte leans into the gesture, warm breath feathering the curve of his collarbone, a giggle slipping free as the edges of his hair tickles her cheek.

         But alas, pretty as dusk was, it was not the event she brought him for. Celestials, and perhaps their ancestors before them, always had a knack for sensing changes in the celestial bodies, the shift of the light within the endless dark above. Pinpricks of distant lights soon begin to dot the vault of sky high above them, an array of streaked light for the people of Brittannia to cast their wishes, their hopes, and dreams upon. It's not the same spectacle as the star shower that graced the land's skies some time before the Egg Rock cracked open, a bewildering show of crisscrossing patterns across the night sky, but watching stars shoot by always carried a certain magic, sparkling trails on the cusp of night and day.

         They're fewer in number now, stars falling one or two at a time, and she’s lost track of how long she’s had her eyes closed now, the chirp of cicadas used to measure the passage of time - but even that’s given way to silence since, leaving her only the falling water to count his slow, deep breaths to.

         It’s then she hears him. The first instance is quiet, a  ❛ thank you ❜  buoyed by the content silence. There’s a minute furrow of brows, a purse of sun loved lips before they smooth out, something reminiscent of a smile dancing over them - gentle and soft, as rain is after an endless summer.

         Fingertips brush against the inside of his hand - the callouses make themselves known immediately, spots of hardened skin betraying the years of ache and punishment they've undergone  ( she has her own, a product of working on her skill with the sword, burnished by the unusual heat of her harsh light, accumulated during the years preparing for the next onslaught, but they aren’t nearly as pronounced ). An easy sigh escapes her, rosy cheeks coloring her features,  ❝ You don't need to give any thanks. I wanted to show you something nice, and I just like spending time with you. ❞

         But he continues. The second instance a small murmur, a confession lingering through the stillness of the air:

‘ i am so glad we were born during the same lifetime ’

         Teal eyes flicker upward, a steady gaze awaiting her. One that’s unreadable in some areas, but softer still in others, wisps of affection curling in those gold depths. It settles deep within her chest, both the words and the look, the weight they carry mixing and weaving with all the things she feels for the man resting in the grass, tucked against her side. It warms her soul, blossoming out, flowing through starlit veins.

         The celestial shifts, a brief rustle of clothes against stalks of crumpled grass, wings falling flat against her shoulders as she turns so she rises off the grass, leaning against an elbow. Hand moving to tuck silver strands behind an ear, she smiles down at the one calls friend, lover, hers.  ❝ ...Same lifetime ? ❞

         It'd be more accurate to say they came across one another in the same lifetime. A chance experience that never should have come to pass. He was born many years ago, sealed away then and freed now. He is depicted in all his fierce intensity upon the murals of her temples, should have expired along with the rest of his kind. But he persists.

         Celestials themselves are no longer so long lived. There is no Supreme Deity, magic decaying over the years and with it their extended longevity.  If she was a Celestial  ( a goddess, your true birthright; celestial is but a different label to the same brand )  of old, her years spanning millennia instead of the few centuries, then she could make that proper claim.

         Their very first impossible, never meant to occur meeting still stands stark amongst her recent memories. The time of ruin, a dizzying cacophony of confrontations. Steel blades clashing, hellish retribution conflicting against valiant deterrence.  ( failed vessel for something more divine, you were never designed to last / is that why the light of your spirited anger burns so fiercely [...] so brightly ? )  The suspicion that followed, seeing him on earth thereafter in the middle of her assignment, spotting him again in the Sky Temple. A series of the unlikeliest of encounters.

         A palm smoothes down the length of his jaw — the movement leading her forward until she’s able to grant a careful nuzzle to his cheek, and then another to his jaw, until finally landing a light peck up upon his temple and then simply pressing her forehead to his. Inner light buzzing at the proximity of his darkness, her movements are careful. They carry the grace of battle in them --- but also the tender care of someone who treasures what she holds. It’s accidental when their noses brush, the sensation enough to draw a light sound of amusement; still, the hand on his cheek seeks out one of his, fingers interlocking with ease, like they belonged nowhere else.

         ❝ I am too. ❞  For a moment she breathes, taking in him, soaking in the heat he radiates, green fixated on gold.  ❝ Thank you for finding your way to me. Despite everything, I’m glad I get to be here with you. ❞ 

          Rumours and tales of demons hail them cold, dead creatures, darkbloods with too many hearts that beat naught but cruelty, only existing to feast on the souls of the pure and righteous, and to sew chaos and destruction. It’s a sin to spare them. By all accounts they should be foes, not sweetly indulging in each other's time without a care in the world. 

          She, a smitten Celestial maiden, cradling he, a demonic warrior borne of the dark, ever closer and dares the world to cast judgement for her actions.

         (  it's alright now icarus, you may rest now / i will be the wings that withstand the sun, that will catch you when you fall  )

  -`.  @deathburns  \\  starter.

         Voracity, an apt descriptor, the fitting label to apply to the grisly scene unfolding. At the end of the day, past any threads of restraint employed or kind friendly gestures they may exhibit, demons were predators. Forget any notion of civilized manners. It's more animal than man this point, a wolf tearing into downed prey and all the morbid characteristics that came packaged with the visceral act.

        ❝ ...Oh. ❞  A single syllable, breathed softly to oneself. Words escaped her, perhaps for the best.

         When they paused for a break and he mentioned eating, disappearing and returning in short order with a catch, somehow this... was not the particular image that formulated in her mind's eye. Dragons were reputed for tough scales but Bellion shredded through natural armor like paper, shearing teeth and vicious claws, rending flesh from bone. ( he truly is a demon, look at the macabre picture he depicts with the blood of the fallen / far from a soulless, unfeeling creature but the unmitigated violence that begets this knight shines through with open clarity ).

         ...He's going to eat it all just like that ?  It's hard, incredibly so, to not openly stare. The celestial attempted to appear inconspicuous, but she's pretty sure if he bothered to glance her way any inklings of stealth would evaporate into nothing, revealing her gawking for what it was.

➤ ` BELLION. (  deathburns  )

it dawns on him that perhaps no other race really acts like this. predatory, claws and fangs ( hunters / they learned to fight like this / they learned to feed like this ) — he can tell after a few moments of silence and her soft breath that she’s … well … she’s not used to this. oh, and he must look a sight! blood on his hands, on his clothes and his face — crimson smeared from where he sank his fangs into raw flesh. ( she sits quietly but in shock / he realizes how frightening this must be / the celestials sat for their meals, didn’t they? ) ❛ er … ❜ 

there’s warmth, blue fire wrapping around the meat he’s taken ( roasting was normal, right? it smelled nice, too! ), free hand moving to wipe the blood from his mouth ( but really, it only smudges more / he’s trying, if nothing else ). ❛ sorry, right, you’d rather eat something cooked — ❜ but, it isn’t just that, in the end, is it? it’s a sobering reminder of the differences between them. this must seem horrific to her — and yet, this is how he lived every day of his life. there is still such a divide between the celestials and the demons ( the goddesses even moreso! ), and it is not the first time, now, that bellion wishes the divide would close. 

because he wants to be close to ellatte. for whatever time they have left, he wants to be at her side ( and isn’t that an odd feeling / they come from vastly different worlds / she is all that he can think of, now ). ❛ i … i can clean up. and fetch you something else, if you want — there were some trees with some really delicious looking fruit that i passed by when i went to … well … get this … ❜ 

         As expected, keen eyes caught the celestial red handed. The sight of blue flames jolted her out of her musings. Wide eyes blinked, stupefied, before they're wrenched away from thick blotches of red streaked across his maw, pointedly fixated on the smattering of tall trees off to the side.  ❝ Don't apologize. ❞  A firm retort, interjected as he stumbled over words, the frown playing on pale lips directed not towards him but herself. Hastiness to correct mannerisms, his thoughtful consideration to abate concerns and accommodate her spoke more than enough.  ❝ I should be doing that... It's rude to stare. ❞

         An innocent wayward look, her sole offense, yet a small amount of guilt curled up, sitting heavy in an unsettled stomach as a tinge of pink brushed the apples of her cheeks. The shock, while sudden and unexpected, wasn't meant to accuse or condemn. She's not here to criticize his palate, to inspect the extensive details of his natural diet.

         The offer had her shaking her head, a smile arising to placate his worries,  ❝ You don't need to go out of your way for me like that. I'm not very hungry right now, but thank you. I just... wasn't prepared. ❞

         If he’d asked, Ellatte wouldn’t have minded making him something. The cultivated art of culinary exploits was highly sought after, creating a fine meal to be enjoyed as an experience like none other. This wasn't that, abrupt flash roasting to get some approximation of cooked food. It's... an attempt ?  He’s skilled at great number of various things, often revolving in his expertise in the ways of combat, but this was one he faltered in. Maybe demons lacked the skill in general, absent among their lexicons of curses and magic, only a vague notion of cooking in their peripheral awareness. Hunting's a factor, a survivalist trait borne of carnivores and at the same time they consumed other normal things like fruits and grains, but... souls sat prettily at the top of their list of edibles too. A prize source of replenishment that needed only a bit of extraction. Who would ever find the need to cook a nigh immaterial object, a collection of thoughts, feelings, and memories ?

         Rather than comment on that aspect, sidestepping the pitfall lying in wait for a single misstep, the most pressing issue was brought up. A fitting answer still eluded her, his response from last time never manifesting, brushed over in wake of shortening his hair and his admittance over losing a bet.  ❝ Aren't you going to get sick ? ❞

-`.  @deathburns continued from here !

         Downy wings slowly beat the warm air, kept her aloft before him as hands twisted and unwound, guided by the nervousness coiled around her throat. Any notion for the guarded stance demanded of being so near to a demon, an extremely dangerous one at that  ( she remembers all too well, the fires of destruction consuming her home, baleful look piercing as poisonous rage thunders ), seemed non existent.

         She knew he noticed. How could he not ?  Perceptive as he was, the celestial didn't even try to keep warring misgivings buried. This close he could easily strike her down with little more than a thought of consideration, but... she wanted to try. Test the depths of these uncertain waters and see if their carefully cultivated friendship would allow such a move to exist within it.

         The first embrace as a whole had been tentative, unsure of the reaction such an act would elicit from the demon. The way he immediately withdrew from her presence intruding further on his space as arms reached out almost made her second guess again. Only the raw intensity of the astonishment and confusion scrawled across perplexed features stopped her from abandoning this altogether  ( rather than the disgust or discomfort she wagered might appear despite it all, would it sting if that's what flickered through his eyes then, all sharp thorns digging into soft skin, warding off a threat / danger / her ? ), pushing her forward with more confidence. She still could do this. Limbs braved the challenge of settling themselves around his neck, and he shifted again, drawing out a tinge of frustration. If only he’d just stay still !

         Amazingly, incredibly, it’s not rejection awaiting her, but wholehearted acceptance.

         His laughter emerged akin to the sun breaking through the cloud cover, her inquiry a key opening the floodgates. A gentle warmth rather than a violent scorch. How could someone look robbed of breath yet convey the highest of spirits ?

         What a sight it is !  It's her turn to watch in stunned silence, so enraptured by the startling  ( but positive, everything she hoped for )  change. The effortless twirl ruffled the tips of her feathers and the sensation of digits tenderly carding through silver tresses hardly registered beyond a faint tingle. Welling emotion softened the sharp edge of his gaze. Dulcet tones radiated wonder.

         He called to her, spoke of how wrong he was, asked her to stay here in this village / stay with him.

         Said he did better as part of a team.

         ( perhaps, what she lacks in, here is clarity. fails to grasp the scope of what he's requesting or perceive the magnitude of change. doesn't realize the affection delicately wreathing his words nor see the seeds of his care for her sprouting into something entirely new )

         ❝ Huh ?  You want me to stay... ? ❞  So suddenly too. A whiplash in subject that's hard to follow. Brows furrowed as the words sunk in deeper, head tilting askew as she searched for his rationale. Teammates, they're of great importance to him. She understood that from the way he spoke of his own. Knew he's still reeling from their loss.

         ❝ ...Alright. I don't mind having this village be where I stay as long as I'm down here. I still have to do my job though. ❞  Up until now she only passed through on an infrequent basis. Rooting herself in one spot defeated the whole purpose of why she came down here... didn't it ?  He's aware of that, and it's not as though he typically strayed very far from this location. Accompanying her was likely out of the question, so maybe this could work as a middle ground.  ❝ I know it keeps me busy, but I'll work to be around as much as I can for you. Teammates stick together, right ? ❞

@deathburns asked; ‘  you are teaching me to love  ’ but its the good bellatte content :)

►  ❪  YOU & THESE BONES  ❫

          Comfort seldom greeted those mired among the threads of war, but no sounds disturbed the ambience of night resting easily across this human village. If she focused her hearing enough, ears soon picked up on the activities of nocturnal creatures, of the wind rustling the leaves, of the villagers enjoying a safe evening. The illusion of peace only made Ellatte appreciate these days all the more.

         Here, under the lonely gaze of distant stars they met again. He sat and she stood, one of few ways they can see close to eye to eye. Was it weakness that led her, leaning into a demon's touch rather than recoiling ? No. The celestial didn't believe so, not when loving itself took strength. Again and again, she found it in these interludes that was theirs alone. She found it in him.

         It laid in the way he cradled her face, capable of terrible wrath yet carrying nothing but tenderness when handling her. In the way he gifted a nuzzle to her forehead, foreign / familiar beats of affection eliciting a shiver and suspending breath - slowly, she's growing accustomed sensations it brought. In how his palms lingered after, war-worn and calloused, not unlike her own marked by battle. In the quiet words felt as much as heard, a breath of vulnerability skimming across her skin, a confession she listened to in rapt attention with a reverence of her own.

         ❝ Don't be silly. ❞  A reprimand, but one lacking bite, teasing in tone. Gently, fingers curled into locks whitened silver by the soft glow of moonlight, tucking loose strands behind the shell of his ear. Isn't this time they shared together proof enough ?  ❝ You already knew how to. ❞

         ( to love is not to ask, it is to give. and he had given so much already, so filled with love. she never needed to teach a thing. )

         Reaching up, her hand grazed his, coaxing and clear with intent, and soon fingers intertwined into a secure hold. Closer, closer she pressed forward, unafraid and earnest. Roseate lips ghosted over top his, her own words feather-like in their caress.  ❝ You'll stay with me tonight... right, Bellion ? ❞

@deathburns​ asked; “  i trust you with parts of myself i’m afraid to show anyone else.  ” /   “  you make me feel brave.  ” [ jazzhands bellatte agenda ]

►  ❪  AFFECTIONATE  ❫

         Greenery thrived on the isles elevated among the sea of clouds. The long expanse of years upon years allowed isolated ecosystems to flourish new life in the sky, but not to this extent. Removal of limited space and a change in altitude made all the difference, a staggering contrast highlighting what one celestial picked up on soon after her descent. Earthen flora spilled over into countless varieties, and Ellatte found herself falling in love with each new one stumbled across, another entry to her expanding journal.

         A lively bouquet / parting gift from the owner of a flower shop the town over secured in the crook of her arm as she gave her usual greeting to Bellion. It didn't take long for a question about the flowers' presence to wind up with him holding them as she launched headfirst into enthusiastic rambling.

         Maybe in another life, she could have focused on caring for plants, immersing herself in wondrous botany rather than readying herself for battles lying in wait. A fear born from the guillotine poised over the exposed necks of her people, constructed thousands of years ago by the litany of demons. But there's more to their presumed executioners than meets the eye.

         ( would she still know bellion in that type of world, personally, dare she say almost intimately ?  would he occupy the same space in her life he guarded now ? )

         A gentle tune punctuated the lull in her explanations, a voiceless melody reverberating in a soothing hum as she took in his countenance. The easygoing posture as he reclined against a thick, weathered branch of one of many oaks of the forest. The expression he watched her with.

         It's hard to describe the look she's seen on him more often than not as of late, to varying degrees. Thinking, consideration. A touch stifling in its focus / searching / intensity. But the heated edges were softened by... she's unsure.

         It felt like he's testing something. Surveying her reactions.

         Sometimes it’s a prelude to bursts of odd behaviour. Like the times he brought her heaps of food  ( more than she knew what to do with / the majority of it ends up given to the villagers ), or he'd say something strange. Missing proper context, connotations she failed to grasp, it sailed right overhead. A blank stare in response may force him to backtrack and offer tentative reasonings or simple, evasive denials to requests of further insight. A confusing blend of distant yet overly affectionate. Why the hell did he make himself both open and hard to read at the same time ?  The avenue of mixed messages waltzed in far too easily than it had any right to.

         It frustrated Ellatte, yet also tragically endeared her. But she wouldn't dare be caught telling him as much; he's prideful enough already. The last thing he needed was any type of ego boost courtesy of her.

         ❝ You almost look like a completely different person when you let yourself relax. ❞  A genuine observation and a past one often kept to herself. It's verbalized this time, slipping through the cage of idle thoughts with ease. She's almost aghast at how freely it's aired but he seemed none too bothered by it.

❝ I trust you with parts of myself I'm afraid to show anyone else. ❞

         It's spoken casually to the point she wondered if his words were conjured up by the imagination. A demon placing any measure of faith in a goddess. I trust you, like he's commenting on something utterly mundane. I trust you, like a simple natural fact, rather than the gravity of what it inherently carried. Trust. A precious component underlying the bridge of connection formed between two entities, sometimes paving the way for the unthinkable to happen.

         Colour crept up from her neck, cheeks gaining a rosier tint as the basest urge to glance away from his vivid scrutiny seized her, a refusal to show flustered reaction in full,  ❝ I'm glad that you can tell me that. I really am !  But you shouldn't say such things so lightly. That... It's... ❞

         It's treading unknown waters.

         He trusted her.

         Ears burned under the force of the heat brewing beneath skin. A fist pressed against her chest, a silent plea sent to a heart picking up its pace to cut it out at once. Mind quickly redirected before it could fasten itself to the train of thought. If allowed to sit and set roots, it'd making her think. It’d make her... wonder.

         It's hard to imagine Bellion as getting scared over anything. He's Bellion. A high ranking demon entire armies followed into battle. The surviving leader of the former six knights of black, terrifying figures carved into the celestials’ history and spoken of long after in hushed, wary tones as evil, ferocious monsters without fear, the impure who murdered and devoured life. The strong — if at times lax — front he presented rarely faltered. The pillar of almost insurmountable strength he represented in her eyes felt ironclad. What could shake the foundations of his heart ?

         Some tension's expelled as she forcefully loosened the tight knot sitting firm within her chest, whitened knuckles regaining colour as fingers slowly unfurled. A sigh transitioned into a miffed huff mid breath and she pushed hair out of her eyes, tucking stray strands of white behind the shell of an ear.

         Her feathers needed to smooth out. She shouldn't be so blatantly thrown off balance by this. He's her friend. Of course she's happy he trusted her. To hear him say that gave a certain warmth, a lightness to her chest like it could walk on clouds. It's not any different from when Solaad chose to confide in her and having the knowledge that it's because she could be relied on.

         The faint flush of pink lingered from the earlier flood of happiness on the apple of her cheeks and tips of the ears, heart a touch upbeat from baseline but poise was restored for the most part. Hopefully the brief interlude of silence from her end as she collected her thoughts didn't come off as abnormal. She chanced a glance up.

         He's there. What once spanned a few strides had been reduced to mere steps as he stood before her, not wreathed in hellbent wrath but surrounded by the embrace of flora, taking her hand in his once he regained her wandering attention. He did nothing but hold it, something like a smile playing on the corner of his lips, and with him closer she found she couldn't look away as easily. So unnecessarily close, and tender, and fond, and strange. Bellion, forged from war and yet... she began to think. This might be a version of him that maybe no one else ever quite had the opportunity to witness, and she’s painfully aware of how lucky she was to have been given this chance.

         Then almost as fast as it came into existence, the almost smile disappeared, replaced by something she didn't recognize. Something that almost looked like longing.

❝ You make me feel brave. ❞

         The bricks of composure painstakingly built up... she could see crumbling into dust as indiscernible emotions railed into them at full force. He's...!

         Ellatte retracted her hand from his grip, cutting the advancement short, unwilling to allow the feelings to fully take hold and petrify her into another round of stunned, flustered silence. Uncertainty bit, clamping down like a wild thing. ( what would looking upon him again reveal ?  rejection's far from her intent, but she didn't want to feel the if only brief sting of whatever emotion she could've wrought by pulling away ). Closed lungs were forced to work, to speak through the spun sugar oh so sweet on the tongue and threatening to clog the throat.

         ❝ Flowers can hold so many meanings. It's another language entirely, and I may be a novice at it but I think I'm getting better at speaking it. Look here at this one. ❞  Leaning closer, ever mindful of the proximity, a particular flower's separated from the rest and she plucked it from the bouquet, thumb caressing vibrant petals,  ❝ It's a freesia. I've been told while others can imply similar things, this flower is the only one that symbolizes trust. ❞

         Stem tucked between two fingers, she reached out to him this time. Catching his hand in her own set, both folded around it in a gentle yet firm hold.  ❝ I carried it here after I heard that because when I looked at it I thought of you. ❞  She didn't lift her face yet, letting her gaze fall upon their joined hands, the blossoming flower sprouting from that connection.

         A goddess and a demon, bound not by the violence expected of them but instead trust. A nigh unthinkable engagement between the clans, meaningful chances for such long since torn apart with ashes scattered to the winds, leaving behind inherent hatred and instinct to draw blood before one's own met that fate. A willingness to engage in those acts may have been there originally — natural after the nature of their circumstances — but it too, like all things, dissipated with time.

         Those days were behind her now. While the future's more uncertain than before, she's all the more ready to confront it. With Bellion here, it seemed...a little bit easier to take that step. What was bravery, if not the will to continue despite shackles of doubt and fear and doubt plaguing one's resolution ?

         Silver crown tilted forward, bringing forehead to rest against his torso, an action gingerly done in execution with the barest of force behind it. A light tap more than anything / a silent apology for moments before. The wide margin of height placed the flowers a scant breath away from a small smile that softened features, the bright petals reflected glow casting a mosaic of colour as leaves brushed against skin. The freesia truly did look beautiful.

         Face prickled ever so slightly with the hint of the returning blush, lips shifting into something just shy of stupidly joyful.  ❝ I'd like to be brave too. ❞