#though i cant recall where
Summary: His lips touched the butterfly, a gift to you.
a/n: okay, so this hits a couple requests i got. one from the prompt challenge #169: What a pretty sight. and another one asking for stuff w/ fondness towards aaravos’ little speaker.
As they perched atop of his fingers, he was reminded of just delicate life could be. Once, not long ago, they had been shielded inside cocoons, and now their glittering wings trembled as though in dance, a tiny starlit night all their own. Their soft flutters across his skin were fragile, gone in an instant if it were something he was compelled to do.
Instead of that, however, he only watched as the pair of butterflies with their dazzling wings and black bodies flapped erratically to the inverted dome of the tall ceiling and clung to the marble. His eyes followed them, and as the fireplace dimmed and the warmth of it coiled through his fingers, he thought they were a night sky he remembered, though it was still so very far away.
