It was a marvel how he managed to turn this girl to ice.
He supposed he could spend a lifetime watching the way her fire dimmed and frost began to creep across those storm-fierce eyes. Her dancing, wild flames cool to ash and embers within his presence. And yet, his words are her gasoline. The silver crow knew how to light her like spark upon his gasoline words. He had never been a firesinger, yet, for this Solterran girl, he would learn. Rhoswen would scold him. She would burn him, but he would learn.
She moves nimbly, vibrantly, beneath this sun, even when her crimson skin is darkened silver and slick with sweat. The sun smiles, hot and heavy, as it weighs his limbs down with heat. It is effort, it is torture, for the boy of night to be here. Yet to watch this girl flourish, a creature born in the black, in the star-strewn sky of night, is infuriating.
Fire steps close to him, the sling swaying across her back. He continues his work, listening as her body hisses with the effort it takes to step close to him. And yet she does; they are magnets; night and day set to dance together, to push and pull forever and always.
A smile, as black as pitch, creeps its way across his lips as she stands near to him, stiff and reluctant. She has rebuilt herself, ever the slumbering volcano again. The fire girl simmers, smoky and dangerous, but quiet, for now.
“Water?” The Crow offers her simply, when she tells him to go home, when she says he does not belong here. Rhoswen is right, of course she is. Solis is no god of his, this desert with its scolding sands seeks to drain him of everything. He has no shadows here, he is exposed and weakened and the dunes as they laugh their sandy laughs.
He places a bucket between them, his ocean blue gaze finally finding her. Electric blue eyes see the ice within her own and the gleam of summer heat across her skin. “You really do thrive here.” He observes roughly, disdain flaring, chasing the heat across his silver skin. Turning to the sling upon her slender back, his voice lowers for her ears alone, “If I returned home, who would you annoy then?” Smoothly he takes the cloth and buckets from her, “Besides, I am not sure who will kill me first, the heat, or you… I am curious to find out.”
With that he is gone, returning to the water with her buckets, her sling. Just his words remain to bite along the shell of her ear.
@Rhoswen dum dum de dum
He supposed he could spend a lifetime watching the way her fire dimmed and frost began to creep across those storm-fierce eyes. Her dancing, wild flames cool to ash and embers within his presence. And yet, his words are her gasoline. The silver crow knew how to light her like spark upon his gasoline words. He had never been a firesinger, yet, for this Solterran girl, he would learn. Rhoswen would scold him. She would burn him, but he would learn.
She moves nimbly, vibrantly, beneath this sun, even when her crimson skin is darkened silver and slick with sweat. The sun smiles, hot and heavy, as it weighs his limbs down with heat. It is effort, it is torture, for the boy of night to be here. Yet to watch this girl flourish, a creature born in the black, in the star-strewn sky of night, is infuriating.
Fire steps close to him, the sling swaying across her back. He continues his work, listening as her body hisses with the effort it takes to step close to him. And yet she does; they are magnets; night and day set to dance together, to push and pull forever and always.
A smile, as black as pitch, creeps its way across his lips as she stands near to him, stiff and reluctant. She has rebuilt herself, ever the slumbering volcano again. The fire girl simmers, smoky and dangerous, but quiet, for now.
“Water?” The Crow offers her simply, when she tells him to go home, when she says he does not belong here. Rhoswen is right, of course she is. Solis is no god of his, this desert with its scolding sands seeks to drain him of everything. He has no shadows here, he is exposed and weakened and the dunes as they laugh their sandy laughs.
He places a bucket between them, his ocean blue gaze finally finding her. Electric blue eyes see the ice within her own and the gleam of summer heat across her skin. “You really do thrive here.” He observes roughly, disdain flaring, chasing the heat across his silver skin. Turning to the sling upon her slender back, his voice lowers for her ears alone, “If I returned home, who would you annoy then?” Smoothly he takes the cloth and buckets from her, “Besides, I am not sure who will kill me first, the heat, or you… I am curious to find out.”
With that he is gone, returning to the water with her buckets, her sling. Just his words remain to bite along the shell of her ear.
@Rhoswen dum dum de dum
![[Image: x341oLX.png]](https://i.imgur.com/x341oLX.png)
You're one microscopic cog
in his catastrophic plan
in his catastrophic plan
