#akisse

... Hopefully this letter finds you well. 

Arcana apprentice {1/?} | Akisse

my arcana apprentice’s masquerade outfit!

It always starts as a soft ache in her heart that creeps up on her when she is halfway between consciousness and slumber, and it swells until it strangles her in her sleep and she sits up with starlit teartracks and a grip on her chest that she cannot explain. Her dreams are heavy with flames and smoke but also light with gossamer gowns and strange masks; unfamiliar, yet the smell of sea salt is unmistakable.

He misses what she cannot remember.

Late nights with the candles burning low, white smoke from burnt sage misting up the air, the sound of bare feet on the floor and jingling anklets and her laughter; afternoon walks up near the aqueducts where they always found more paths to explore, more hidden wild gardens to sample, and more sun-spotted clearings to lie in; the most anticipated evening of the year, crystal chandeliers floating high above the masked partygoers, the stars on her dress scintillating whenever she refuses to dance with anyone but him.

Now no one dances, no one wanders, no one holds masquerades for witches and apprentices to fall in love at anymore.

She always thinks that he is asleep when she wakes up at night, wiping away tears that she cannot understand, and she is always surprised when he rises silently and engulfs her in his arms and whispers beautiful somethings in her ear.

For how long will he stay with me, she wonders.

For as long as you need me, he always answers.