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𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝟐𝟕𝟕 𝐀.𝐂.
Traction of rigidity increased between the two siblings, folding larger by the day, tension rising as the two stood beside eachother, fingers folded into their hands as their taut frames eyed the boat that approached.
The dusty wind howled against the murky sky, fighting with the salty waves of the ocean that rocked against the hull of the wooden ship. Prominent was it's shimmering turqoise banner, stitched with an even more luminesced seahorse on it's fabric. It's flowing material was gracefully dancing against the gust, as if a tone of heaven tainted itself in macabre notes of melancholy.
Indeed the very opposite of the scintillation of fabrics was the dreary sight of weather, an impecable match of the mood that the brother and sister were in. A foul taste was left in the elder one's mouth after the comprehension that his younger lover was exactly what she would remain in his mind; an illusory, notional seraphic being whilst carried in the arms of another.
Rhaegar's body ached with choler, braided in ire and dysthymia. He wasn't sure what was it that had managed to keep him so transfixed in his position and state of mind all these years but now he was disturbed more than he was willing to admit.
His indigo irises scattered to find the softer shades of his sister, somehow scavenging to note something. "Is this really what you desire?" He trailed the pitch of his voice.
Drhaella turned around to face the countenance of her sibling, her locks flowing to secrete parts of Rhaegar's profile. "Jacaerys is as good of a match as any, and besides I don'tthink I have much of a choice." She mumbled through a half closed mouth, body palpitating against the wintry tones of weather.
"But you do." He replied, his honey voice dangling off his lips, eyes covered by a layer of demure sweetness.
"What are you prating about?" She asked, genuinely perplexed by his reasoning.
Rhaegar seemed to open his mouth to reply but his gaze flew to the ship that was now exceedingly close to the harbour. Drhaella followed his vision to the ever approaching barque.
Both stayed in the tranquillity of their surroundings, awaiting the figures that loomed in the short distance. Only a few months have passed since they last had spoken, often eschewing their way out of eachother's presence, and yet as the boat approached ever so closer, Rhaegar could't stop himself from being anguished. The mineral fabrics and the sea-green colour alone made him timorous as it symbolized a threat he wasn't sure how to solve.
