Jewelianna x Jean-Etienne | Eryra - Viridian Isles
This story under heavy reconstruction
[spoiler]
The cliffs that overlooked the white sanded shores of Eryra always made Jewelianna feel better. She sat cross-legged on the ground, hands twisted limply in the space between her thighs. She stared out, unblinkingly, into the rolling waves of the sea. Tall, foaming peaks highlighted by silver strips of moonlight. Salted, ocean air passed though the fur of her ears and ruffled her tail. It felt cool on her face, but made her skin feel dry.
Until this day, Jewelianna had lived in a perfect world where nothing bad happened to the people that she loved. One in which those people promised that they would always be there for you, and lived forever. Reality hit hard and left a bittersweet taste in her mouth. When her father passed away, it felt to her as if a hole had opened up beneath her feet and dropped her into a bottomless pit. She tumbled deeper and deeper into despair and heartache. So far down she could no longer see the light at the beginning.
It would have been comforting to think she sat at the top of the cliffs, reminiscing and sending well wishes to her departed father, but her thoughts were as empty as her heart and she was only here to escape her grieving mother. A childish, ill woman who behaved as if she was the only one hurt by her father's passing. The woman shrieked, and cried and carried on. Her mournful wails echoing down the castle's halls like the calls of a ghost.
It's like she wasn't even really here anymore. She felt so unattached from the world. She didn't hear footsteps approach. She didn't know she was being watched.
"What's the matter, lynx?" a voice like crushed velvet rubbed over her skin, breaking the silence. Her silver-furred ears twitched to either side, sweeping against the fall of her ebony locks. "You're crying," the voice continued. Jewelianna gasped softly, hands rising to scrub at her face with lacy sleeves.
She turned her head to throw a glance over her shoulder. She was greeted with the sight of the lacing on black leather boots that reached almost to the man's knees. Between the first time he had spoken and the last he had moved closer to her. Her eyes skirted up the length of him. He wore the Eryran military uniform, an impeccably cut combination of slacks and sharp jacket, accented with golden edges. He had skin like marble, as pale and smooth as she'd ever seen the stone. Even though the lower half of her face was hidden behind the too big sleeves of her dress, her shock remained obvious, when she reached his face. A widening of her green orbs, a meaningful perk of her brow caused the sliver of onyx hanging from her silver circlet to dance back and forth. He was tip-toeing a fine line between handsome and pretty. He had a lovely pink cupid-bow mouth, but a strong nose; blue eyes, framed by a long fringe of dark lashes; a strong jawline with high cheekbones.
The man walks around and casually sits down next to her. Her surprise remains, but the expression is now punctuated with an stand-offish glare.
"Who are you?" she squeaks, the fur on her tail bristled, ears pushing forward in his direction.
"Who are you?" he counters, leaning back on his palms and bringing his knees up. He stared out over the sea the same as she had before.
"What?" she snaps back, her pitch rising a bit higher as if she was not used to this being the response to her questions. "I asked you first," the emphasis was childish even for her and it was confirmed by the way he chucked softly afterwards. "Jean-Etienne," he replies, turning the intensity of those blue orbs to her green ones.
"Oh," her reply was soft, as if she had just been proven wrong, or scolded. "I'm Jewelianna."
"That's it?" he asks, bemused. The way he smirked was somewhere between a grin and a snarl. She caught a glimpse of pointed canines, where his lips pulled back.
"All you gave me was Jean-Etienne," she was clearly not the sort that was used to people arguing with her, or contradicting her. Benevolent or otherwise. His only response was another throaty chuckle as he looked away from her, back to gazing out across the shores. Jewelianna was not above staring. The breeze threw back his dark curls, revealing the whole of his face, which illuminated nicely in the moonlight.
"You're a leathcine, aren't you?" A half-breed, he had asked suddenly, bluntly. Rudely, considering the nature of the question.
"I am not," she answered too quickly, and the words rode the sound of a growl. It was hard to be convincing that way.
"No?" he shifted his weight to one hand, reaching with the one closest to her, brushing it down the length of her tail. He was obviously knowledgeable to notice that her tail was too long, too fluffy, too wrong for her to be a pure-blooded lynx.
"What of it?" she huffs, bristling once more, crossing her arms over her chest. She didn't look at him, more content to glare out into the night as her ears fell flat to the crown of her head.
"Nothing, of it," he mocks, curling his fingers into the soft fur, brushing through the grey-spotted strands as if he had any right. The appendage flickered out of his grasp, coming around the opposite to curl into her lap. She buried her own hands in it, out of spite.
"Do you have any idea who I am? Who you're speaking to?" When she looked back to him, with a well-practiced indignant mask of an expression, she faltered to find him staring right back at her. He didn't respond, he only stared. "Did you come all the way out here to remind that I am too tall to be a lynx? Too curvy? Too dark? Too ugly?" She spoke as if she was trying to provoke him, but she was the one getting worked up.
The first flickers of annoyance crossed his features, breaking that perfectly sculpted marble expression of collected calm. "Who tells you these things?" he questions softly, though his lips barely moved, hiding clenched teeth. He spoke as if he was closer to her than the stranger he actually was. A curious thing, they was he talked to her. As if she were not royalty and they were at all familiar.
"They all tell me these things."
Annoyance spilled into anger, and in that moment Jewelianna realized she was crying again. She didn't know why, but there were tears spilling out over her cheeks. She was crying because some stranger had defended her? She didn't say anything, but she let him see what was in her face, a solemn mask of acceptance; in her eyes, watery chartreuse orbs staring up at him from beneath dark lashes, clinging together in points like stars. She let him see that she didn't think she was beautiful. Jean-Etienne stared back at her. He seemed determined, as if he would take all the time it took to show her otherwise.[/spoiler]
This story under heavy reconstruction
[spoiler]
The cliffs that overlooked the white sanded shores of Eryra always made Jewelianna feel better. She sat cross-legged on the ground, hands twisted limply in the space between her thighs. She stared out, unblinkingly, into the rolling waves of the sea. Tall, foaming peaks highlighted by silver strips of moonlight. Salted, ocean air passed though the fur of her ears and ruffled her tail. It felt cool on her face, but made her skin feel dry.
Until this day, Jewelianna had lived in a perfect world where nothing bad happened to the people that she loved. One in which those people promised that they would always be there for you, and lived forever. Reality hit hard and left a bittersweet taste in her mouth. When her father passed away, it felt to her as if a hole had opened up beneath her feet and dropped her into a bottomless pit. She tumbled deeper and deeper into despair and heartache. So far down she could no longer see the light at the beginning.
It would have been comforting to think she sat at the top of the cliffs, reminiscing and sending well wishes to her departed father, but her thoughts were as empty as her heart and she was only here to escape her grieving mother. A childish, ill woman who behaved as if she was the only one hurt by her father's passing. The woman shrieked, and cried and carried on. Her mournful wails echoing down the castle's halls like the calls of a ghost.
It's like she wasn't even really here anymore. She felt so unattached from the world. She didn't hear footsteps approach. She didn't know she was being watched.
"What's the matter, lynx?" a voice like crushed velvet rubbed over her skin, breaking the silence. Her silver-furred ears twitched to either side, sweeping against the fall of her ebony locks. "You're crying," the voice continued. Jewelianna gasped softly, hands rising to scrub at her face with lacy sleeves.
She turned her head to throw a glance over her shoulder. She was greeted with the sight of the lacing on black leather boots that reached almost to the man's knees. Between the first time he had spoken and the last he had moved closer to her. Her eyes skirted up the length of him. He wore the Eryran military uniform, an impeccably cut combination of slacks and sharp jacket, accented with golden edges. He had skin like marble, as pale and smooth as she'd ever seen the stone. Even though the lower half of her face was hidden behind the too big sleeves of her dress, her shock remained obvious, when she reached his face. A widening of her green orbs, a meaningful perk of her brow caused the sliver of onyx hanging from her silver circlet to dance back and forth. He was tip-toeing a fine line between handsome and pretty. He had a lovely pink cupid-bow mouth, but a strong nose; blue eyes, framed by a long fringe of dark lashes; a strong jawline with high cheekbones.
The man walks around and casually sits down next to her. Her surprise remains, but the expression is now punctuated with an stand-offish glare.
"Who are you?" she squeaks, the fur on her tail bristled, ears pushing forward in his direction.
"Who are you?" he counters, leaning back on his palms and bringing his knees up. He stared out over the sea the same as she had before.
"What?" she snaps back, her pitch rising a bit higher as if she was not used to this being the response to her questions. "I asked you first," the emphasis was childish even for her and it was confirmed by the way he chucked softly afterwards. "Jean-Etienne," he replies, turning the intensity of those blue orbs to her green ones.
"Oh," her reply was soft, as if she had just been proven wrong, or scolded. "I'm Jewelianna."
"That's it?" he asks, bemused. The way he smirked was somewhere between a grin and a snarl. She caught a glimpse of pointed canines, where his lips pulled back.
"All you gave me was Jean-Etienne," she was clearly not the sort that was used to people arguing with her, or contradicting her. Benevolent or otherwise. His only response was another throaty chuckle as he looked away from her, back to gazing out across the shores. Jewelianna was not above staring. The breeze threw back his dark curls, revealing the whole of his face, which illuminated nicely in the moonlight.
"You're a leathcine, aren't you?" A half-breed, he had asked suddenly, bluntly. Rudely, considering the nature of the question.
"I am not," she answered too quickly, and the words rode the sound of a growl. It was hard to be convincing that way.
"No?" he shifted his weight to one hand, reaching with the one closest to her, brushing it down the length of her tail. He was obviously knowledgeable to notice that her tail was too long, too fluffy, too wrong for her to be a pure-blooded lynx.
"What of it?" she huffs, bristling once more, crossing her arms over her chest. She didn't look at him, more content to glare out into the night as her ears fell flat to the crown of her head.
"Nothing, of it," he mocks, curling his fingers into the soft fur, brushing through the grey-spotted strands as if he had any right. The appendage flickered out of his grasp, coming around the opposite to curl into her lap. She buried her own hands in it, out of spite.
"Do you have any idea who I am? Who you're speaking to?" When she looked back to him, with a well-practiced indignant mask of an expression, she faltered to find him staring right back at her. He didn't respond, he only stared. "Did you come all the way out here to remind that I am too tall to be a lynx? Too curvy? Too dark? Too ugly?" She spoke as if she was trying to provoke him, but she was the one getting worked up.
The first flickers of annoyance crossed his features, breaking that perfectly sculpted marble expression of collected calm. "Who tells you these things?" he questions softly, though his lips barely moved, hiding clenched teeth. He spoke as if he was closer to her than the stranger he actually was. A curious thing, they was he talked to her. As if she were not royalty and they were at all familiar.
"They all tell me these things."
Annoyance spilled into anger, and in that moment Jewelianna realized she was crying again. She didn't know why, but there were tears spilling out over her cheeks. She was crying because some stranger had defended her? She didn't say anything, but she let him see what was in her face, a solemn mask of acceptance; in her eyes, watery chartreuse orbs staring up at him from beneath dark lashes, clinging together in points like stars. She let him see that she didn't think she was beautiful. Jean-Etienne stared back at her. He seemed determined, as if he would take all the time it took to show her otherwise.[/spoiler]
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.