#nightdame

"we're losing moonlight."

she understands the mourning that comes when the familiar source of light goes away. for āl azif it happens at dusk, for aylin at dawn. the two of them are polar opposite yet so alike, if not the same. it's confusing and surprising, comforting yet strange.

the priestess has met selûnite acolytes before, as the lady of silver is a known ally of lathander. and while the sense of allyship is palpable when in their presence, there is an added layer of kinship to aylin's very own existence that azif has not really ever felt with anyone else before. she would struggle to put it eloquently into words if she tried to do so, how could one describe the otherworldly greatness of the blood of those from mount celestia in their veins with mere mortal words?

āl azif may not be lathander's literal daughter, but it is his warmth, energy and magic that brought her life into existence. she would not exist without him. the dawnfather is the only father she has ever known. in that sense, aylin and āl azif are alike, too. the sword of the moondmaiden and the radiance of the morninglord.

“ do not worry, dame aylin. the sunlight will keep you warm. ”  she promises with soft voice, looking up to meet the paladin's gaze. the disparity between their builds could not be even more abysmal, the sight is almost comical in all truth. azif considers perhaps this is due to how much more human and close to the material world she is. she has never been to the celestial realm, but she has read on how those from that plane are much taller than humans.

mayhaps it’s a selfish thing, the crucial intensity in which she feels exactly the same. like a moth to a brilliant flame, warm and centered in aylin’s ever-present light. the corners of her lips quirk into a smile, currently knelt beside selune’s chosen sword after another round of healing. even now, with relief filling her once-still heart, she worries immensely for her love.