She is a tempest of whirlwinds and stormstruck eyes under Solis' thumb. The wilds of her storm is an uncharted sea chomping against the bit of her self-control. She need only hum, or whisper, or murmur a note in the far reaches of her throat to unleash the hell of her rage. But she does not; no, Aislinn only stands like a statue of ink and moonstone beneath an unforgiving sun. Her orbs do not waver from Avdotya, but instead hone into narrowed slits. The scoff that plays at her lips is all but breathed into the ash and dust that swirls around them both. The building symphony of her power swirls; its waves crashing in intimate pleas to be free, to wreck havoc on this woman before her. Calligo's shadows grow long under her brother's light; reaching towards her daughter in tender fingers. Show her, a voice croons, like a teasing breeze of ocean air. Show her who you are. And as if in answer, her mane is tossed by the desert's winds in a phantom caress, a push. A tug on the chain of her control pulls at her heart, her lungs. Oh, how she does wish to let herself become brutally undone. Her wrath is the violet billows of a bruised sky, and her fury is the lightning that strikes without abandon. What she would give to drown the smirk off of the viper's face with the waves of her hurricane. You walk into a nest of serpents seeking compensation? "I am not afraid of snakes," she spits. Her gaze is the only warmth of her; all blue fires and steel and daggers that dare not look away from the woman's own. You are a fool. Her anger rises, swallowing the sun bathing her skin like the black hole Calligo had designed her to be. The skies mirror her spiking rage; clouds of grey mar the sun of his swelter, rushing towards where they stand in the heart of the oasis. A rough wind tosses the braid running down her neck, loosening the strands intricately bound there. The feral beast of her power screams, yanking on the silver chains that is her self-control. She holds it barely, mastering it, despite the sweet temptation of letting her hurricane be unbound from where it is caged just beneath the surface of her skin. Her violence strains as her muscles constrict in anticipation; the cracking of white knuckles and split, bloodied lips. Show her. By all means, pursue your shred knowledge.. seek it out until Solis swallows you whole. The stormsinger refuses to be eclipsed by the sun god's viper queen. That one muscle above her lip twitches, tightening, and she nearly cracks. She can almost swear that Calligo's fingers wrap around her in this hell of scorched earth and buried bones. The clouds darken at the flare of her rage, but for a moment, before her muscles loosen. Not a single rain drop falls from the heavens above. No.. nothing at all. Her release is the calm breeze after a tsunami; the lapping of seas on a shore. A welcome cool that kisses the heat that beads in sweat upon the ebony of her skin. Her goddess cradles her as the storm inside her growls. Aislinn steps towards her, closing what little distance separated them. Like hell would she allow her to walk away so easily. The stormsinger only leans forward, just barely, just enough, as her smile curls wider. She could almost share breath with the serpent woman standing before her. Her voice is a soft whisper, flat and lethal. "You are not worth the storm," she lilts, tasting each word that graces her lips, "and neither is the snake I have come to find." She exhales, the breath hard and quick through her nostrils. A silent dismissal; craning her neck backwards with a step laid between them. Laughter bubbles in her throat, amused, as she squints upwards to the now cloudless sky. Aislinn only shakes her crown, before turning halfway to return from whence she came. But not before she muses, "I hope you're not afraid of the dark." @avdotya eeep ash tries to be a badass :P "Aislinn speech." |
