"So long ago,"
his voice drawls, half a dream and half a moan, half alive and half dead and so very otherworldly.
"So long ago,"
she answers in a whisper, voice nearly cracking, for how long has it been since she'd sung? Since she'd sung for him from the bottom of her dead, unbeating heart? Since the lilt of his voice had made her blood burn and boil and simmer? Since warmth had pooled in her gut at the sound of him.
Philippe. Philippe sings for her once more, his voice a thousand choirs, his fingers dancing a sinful twirl across the strings of his lute, and for a moment, Sept-Tours feels like home once more.
He looks at her, a twinkle in those devilish eyes, as his fingers pluck at chords and his song picks up, rises and sighs, paints his unseen world. A smile, a soft smile touches his lips, and his golden green and brown eyes crinkle as his face lights up.
"This is for the long-forgotten,"
she doesn't miss her cue, although it's been years upon years upon years,
"light at the end of the world,"
their voices join, hers high and lilting, his a rasped bass, and her fingers tremble,
"Horizon's crying the tears he left behind,"
and it'll be over, and her throat constricts and her eyes fill with blood, but he looks at her again, more man than ghost, and his sad, sad smile breaks her heart,
"So long ago."
A/N: drabble for Philippe and Ysabeau, because those idiots break my heart. cross-posted on ao3. lyrics are from Nightwish's "the Islander", which IS SO DAMN FITTING FOR THEM, OK. I HAVE FEELS
cheers :D