pawnstorm | (CLOSED) it's a war dance

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(CLOSED) it's a war dance

Who: Sion Astal & Aisha Clanclan
When: 06/05
Where: Caissa Center Plaza
What: Have a Drink! and related shennanigans.
Rating: PG?!

[ He'd taken her by the hand when word of the festival reached his ears, hardly needing Jaunne Cinna's request to offer the Lady a King's escort to the central plaza of the capital where the fair citizens of Caissa were sure to have congregated in celebration. Where he had once shied away from such things—how he had stood, distant and removed, when the color and merriment of First Bloom had decorated the city streets!—he is now only at play, light of heart and carefree as a summer's breeze which would carry all troubles up, up and away into the aether.

The aether which Sion seems to be considering intently now, for how he sorely wished for his wings here, in this moment...! ]

My Lady Aisha— [ His voice is (theatrically!) grave, his golden eyes falling shut for an instant when all seems to go still, and he can keenly feel the warmth of sunlight upon his face; the wind tousling his hair. ] —had I but known we would meet with our end in such a way, I would have insisted that we both bring a spare change of uniform.

[ Corralled at the fountain at the center of the plaza, they stand back to back, surrounded by a ring of water-gun toting robots and revelers. But even if there is only one future which might come to pass (and that is a thoroughly soaked-through, thoroughly sodden future!), Sion will rise to it, beckoning it forth with a beautiful, willful smile.

And it is this smile which is turned to Aisha as he glances back, over his shoulder, catching her eyes: ]

Then... shall we go out with a splash?

[ Perhaps they are not done just yet. There's a glint to his eye, and one last card up his (addmittedly already quite damp!) sleeve. ]

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[Aisha doesn't quite know how she got Jaunne Cinna's request, considering she couldn't see him. But there isn't anyone here she'd rather face the crowds with than the king that was shaping up to be her partner in crime. The only crime here though, was having too much fun with the job, and once again Aisha thinks about how amazing it is that they're getting paid for this.

She would have done it for free, easily.

Once again, she is a wild thing, her eyes full of mirth and something else. Meeting Sion's eyes, she nods.]

Ah, but we can face the end with our heads held high! Our dignity intact! They should be grateful to go up against the likes of us!

[It seems the theatrics were catching. Her gestures are wide, and the revelers seem to be eating it up, the idea of being their opposition. Maybe they're just taken by the king's smile, beautiful as it is. How lovely this hour, with the sun on their faces and water, water everywhere.

He has a plan. She trusts it.]

We'll never surrender! We'll never say die!

[ Laughter, true and unabashed, has not found him so easily in ages. As freely as the Lady's voice rings out, the King finds himself of the opinion that it would be far too great a disservice to her, and to all those who have come to crowd about the fountain, not to wholeheartedly express his joy; his absolute pleasure to be at service for a festival which promised only blessings and new beginnings.

And so: he laughs, and the revelers are jovial with him, with Aisha as she gives testament to their stalwart character, their Hero's valor, proclaiming them immortals and more as her hair catches the sunlight.

That light...

The festival-goers will not hear a word of it, the incantation which falls from the King's lips, the spell which causes the water from the fountain to coalesce and to lift, surging upward into a geyser which dissolves away into a gentle shroud of mist. Counterproductive, such a move may be, for it has left both himself and Aisha a good deal more sodden than before (but then, so too is the crowd perfectly drenched!), but the Hero King is not done, not just yet.

There is a second spell, calling forth the light intrinsic to him, and as it cuts through the mist it disperses and it refracts, forming a magnificent arch of colors which has young ones exclaiming a rainbow! and their elders applauding with awe. ]

Unto us no end at all, but a beautiful beginning!

[ And perhaps a great escape he suggests, mischievously, to Aisha alone. ]

[It's so wonderful, the way their laughter blends together. It sings like bells, and surely they've captivated the crowd now. In turn, she's just as taken with it all in this moment. This, here, was a moment in the sun, and it was hers.

Theirs.]

Our opponents are worthy, but our fight is just! Our hearts are true!

[The magic is enchanting to everyone, including her. Aisha watches the water rise and douse the crowd (and them!), the rainbow shine on everyone. She'd hardly say it was counterproductive, weren't they here to put on a show? To capture the affections of the people?

She whispers back ready when you are, quirking her lips. Then she takes a deep breath, takes Sion's hand in hers.]

Our hearts are light as air!

[A spell. Magic. Magic that works, as her and Sion are lifted off the ground. It's a slow rise, not very high, but not bad for a first shot. The crowd's already applauding, and she soaks it up like sunlight.

Right now, her heart really does feel as light as her incantation claimed.]

[ More than magic and more than mana, the force which sees them lifted from the ground seems to be a manifestation of the Lady's spirit itself. Surely, they are held aloft by Aisha's passions, just as they are aglow with Sion's own iridescent shine, their hearts light as air but tethered together by virtue of the handhold they share. This moment could be infinite, undying, the delight of the crowd marrying with the Lady's jubilation and the King's effervescence in joyous consonance.

(There is some part of him which is unable to bear it, this happiness.) ]

And we are the warm winds of summer, carrying with us your hopes and your blessings. Always, our hearts will be for you!

[ —his voice is a lovely, silvered thing, vibrant and dynamic in its own right, though he fears he is nowhere so compelling as his Lady companion. Between the link of their hands, he offers her his mana, his palm pressed flush to her own as he opens a link between them, asking that she take enough to hold their present position for just a little while longer. ]

So be burdened not by regret and send us away well! [ For they are the perfect targets, suspended in mid-air, and what a farewell it would be, to have all manner of bad luck washed away from them by the civilians they defend. ] We will be gone with the gale!

[ And gone they are, propelled forward and higher still, over the crowd with wind at their backs and swirling about their feet to cushion their descent...! ]

Edited (woooords) 2016-06-08 00:02 (UTC)

[Aisha can't say she's ever had an audience so enthralled, and it had been a long time since she'd been so in sync with someone. This was so much different than how she'd fought with an assassin by her side, the occasion more joyous than anything else. The adoring public suits them.

She's never had too much of anything, is greedy for everything. This too, the Ctarl takes with both hands open.

The mana link is comfortable, even as they're pretty well soaked. Sion speaks and everyone listens, the definition of power. But this is too light and easy to be something like that, and even his voice is musical. So she holds them up, steadfast, waving with her other hand gracious as you please.

Going higher is a bit of a surprise, but she squeals in delight. The crowd sends them off with a splash (so much water, those guys have good aim) and their well-wishes. There's nothing but happiness, all around, and it's fantastic.

In the sense that it's the stuff of dreams; in the sense that it's absolutely marvelous.]

[ It's dizzying, when their feet meet with the ground a good distance away from the crowd—though they are windswept and soaked through to the bone, Sion is somehow yet vivacious, thoroughly alive and grateful to feel as much as he does. There is the damp of the water and the lingering chill of the wind; the gentle warmth of sunlight and the Lady's hand, held secure and safe in his own during their descent. Once upon a time, he would not have been able to distinguish between these things, for the curse he carried had left him numb to them all, but in the here and now...

He swings the link of their hands in a light back and forth, to and fro, as his fingers curl about her own in a gentle squeeze. ]

We made it, you and I. [ ...though perhaps he's spoken much too soon! Where the hearts of people might always be won, there remains the matter of robots equipped with water guns, and there is the fast approaching whirr! of the miniature automatons Sion had battled once before during a great snowball fight...! But this is likely an adventure to be touched upon later, perhaps when recanting other fantastic tales, and Sion is left to take decisive action: the swing of their hands turns into a playful tug as the King beckons for her to take flight with him once more. ]

Now we've only to cut a path to the gardens. Let us take our refuge there, my Lady!

[ Smiling still, his eyes are flashing and alight, and no sooner than he's graced with the Lady's assent, he'll dart forward with her, weaving past all obstacles and racing to a future which is not so ever-distant as it seems. ]

[They land, robots around them, still in danger of being thoroughly drenched. But they'd gotten this far, who said Heroes couldn't change their destiny? When Sion tugs, Aisha goes along, grip tightening in his. Here, there were no wings, they'd have to run.]

Coming!

[So they do. It's very much like playing, the way they dart through crowds, gracefully avoiding threats both watery and not. Granted, the biggest threat is knocking down a family's funnel cake, but no such tragedy happens. Sticking her tongue out at the automations, Aisha gives a whoop when they reach the gardens.

They made it, him and her.

Laughing, she scoops him up in her arms without warning, carrying him to a nice spot up a hill, under a tree. The sunbeams are beckoning, offering to dry them off and warm them up. She accepts it, and once they arrive she sets him down.

Then she looks at him and bursts out laughing, pure joy.]

That was... that was the best, did you see their faces?

[ She lifts him, after they've made their great escape. As though he weighed nothing at all, she sweeps him clean off his feet, and he is startled (so much so that he swears, his heart skips a beat...!), delighted, and full of smiles as she whisks him away to a hilltop in the gardens, setting him down at the foot of a tree with sprawling roots and sunshine filtering through the reach of its branches. ]

Their looks of astonishment, I remember, as I do their happiness and awe, but you must forgive me, Lady Aisha... [ She is laughing, gleeful, and he is still very much afluster from being carried and cared for that a blush lights his cheeks, a golden glow suffusing through the skin. ] ...for it was you who I looked at most.

[ So it is only quite natural, isn't it, that he reach for her? After holding hands and knowing one another in embrace, it seems only a seamless progression of things when he loops his arms about her, gently guiding her to lay beside him on the grass (and use his lap as a pillow, if she so wishes!) so that they might bask together in this small bit of glory. ]

Thank you, for accompanying me today. [ His voice gentles and it quiets as he finds himself relaxing, his eyes vibrant with sentiment. ] In you, and in everyone, I glimpsed something which I thought was unattainable.

A summer's day, where everyone can laugh foolishly without worry or care... Someday, I hope to grant my people the very same.

[That blushing is adorable, she can't stop giggling at the whole affair, even when he flusters her in turn. Aisha isn't sure if it's a royalty thing or just part of Sion's charms, but she doesn't mind at all. Doesn't think, when his arms go around her. The grass feels nice, it's a perfect spot for a catnap.

The was ridiculously comfortable.]

I can't blame ya, I was trying to draw a crowd. [There's a playfully smug grin on her face for a moment, before she smiles, softly. Her head rests against him, this closeness so natural to her. She'd never had much sense for personal space.] Never pulled off magic before...

[Why it worked then when it hadn't before, she couldn't say.]

But you don't have to thank me, it was fun.

[His people. Sometimes she forgets the nature of rulers, but it's a fair thing considering how different they could be. Some wielded their power like a hammer, crushing anything that opposed them underfoot. Conquerors. Aisha could respect that, that sort of thing was in her blood.

Sion's wish was worthy of respect too. It was soft, gentle.

Why would he think that was unattainable?]

You shouldn't doubt that you can do it. Your heart is for your people, and they'll trust in you in turn. Just... be what you are, okay?

[ What he is.

Hers is a comfortable weight against him, as they recline in embrace, the tall blades of grass which have become their bed swaying and bending in the breeze to tickle at their arms and legs, their feet. He is happy, still, he is certain of it (even as his chest constricts, and for a moment, as surely as he is smiling, he seems to be on the verge of crying as well), but in his heart he knows that the person his people trust in, the King who shoulders all of their hopes...

That beacon of light does not exist.

And perhaps a long time ago, Sion himself had ceased to exist as well. He is a man given fully to his people, a King who would sacrifice anything, and become anyone—conquerer, slaughterer, monster—to save the realm which he loved, and to preserve something soft, gentle, and perhaps very much like the embrace which he hasn't parted from even now.

Aisha's head against his chest, the little flicks of her ears, and the afternoon nap which seems to be looming just around the corner... these things, he would always protect and adore. ]

Right now, Lady Aisha, what I am is heartened, free of doubt— [ And perhaps something close to being free, as well. ] —and more content than anyone has a right to be, especially when donning waterlogged clothes.

[ The melancholy is gone from his smile, then, and playfully, he brushes back a strand of the Lady's hair which threatens to fall and cling to her face in its thoroughly saturated state.

Thank you, he needn't say again, for the sentiment somehow resonates through their link of mana exchange. ]

Truly, though, you are most impressive. A wonder, for that to have been your very first spell.

[ A levitation which had taken even his breath away, despite how often he took to the skies with gold gilding his shoulders and wings of light at his back.

Teeeeasing: ] Why, have you been practicing without me all this while?

[She watches him dip in that moment, the sadness palpable in his expression, yet alone his mana. Wondering why was a natural response, but she figures it's not any of her business at the moment. Maybe a royalty thing... or just a Sion thing, who knew?

The moment passes, as moments do.]

We should have brought a change of clothes, now that I think about it. But as long as you're good Aisha's fine.

[More than, considering the praise. Aisha nuzzles into his skin before answering, pouting at the teasing tone. Just because she likes him doesn't mean he can think she's soft.]

If I'd known it was that cool Aisha would have learned it a long time ago. And maybe I have! A lady has to have her secrets, riiight?

[As if she wouldn't tell him if he asked.]

[ Lady Aisha? Soft? As surely as she is nestled against him, her breath warm against his skin as she huffs and pouts, Sion knows that Aisha is the farthest from such a thing. Tenacious as she is, he cannot imagine that she has not wholly given herself to the pursuit of becoming stronger—be it through the practice of magic or otherwise!—and as he had written to her in days past, he is quite sure that nothing is beyond her reach.

She's lifted him today, in more ways than one, and it is that very strength which will one day move mountains, and perhaps even the heavens above. ]

They are a Lady's greatest weapon, or so I am told. [ Secrets. A Lady's weapon and a King's curse. ] And you wield them aptly, holding them high overhead with maybes and might haves.

[ A hum upon his lips, he glances to her (coquettishly, though he fails to realize it), his body thrumming with their mana bonds, their closeness setting him at ease. This is a link forged without worry or care, a manifestation of happiness, and Sion finds himself unwilling to infringe upon it. ]

But if you should ever need another to practice with, do not hesitate to call upon me. [ He laughs, though the sound is quiet, gentled by his own repose. His head lays now upon the grass, and if his voice drifts in and out... Well, he is only tired. They have been out for quite some time, after all. ] Think of me as your whetstone, if you will.

[ Closing his eyes, his lashes fan silver against his cheeks. ]

Always, I will keep you sharp.

Aisha's a regular politician, huh? But I just do it cause it's fun.

[To tease him back, turnabout being the fairest sort of play. There is a delicacy in this, being willing to rest with someone without any concerns. Aisha hasn't learned that it isn't a weakness, not yet. But as the thought hasn't come to her mind, there's nothing to deny or push back against.

She glances back at him and... that expression is cute, wow.

It would be a much more jarring realization if she wasn't so cozy and warm.]

Yeah, 'd like that. You're good at that stuff so it'll be a good challenge. [He sounds sleepy. She is sleepy, and where she got her rest was never a problem to her. A hand cards through his hair absently, her own voice getting softer.] And in return, I'll...

[What could she do, here?]

Be here, whenever ya need me.

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(CLOSED) it's a war dance

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