Summer isn't summer without the smell of rain, as the Sun dipped low over the horizon, the very sky wept in relief. Fine drops made to mist manes and drip daintly from whiskers, the kind of rain one laid by the window and watched wistfully with soft eyes.

It curled ink and mist strands as Neha flew through the night, a star made of night, ivory and gypsy gold. A picture of Denocte's natural beautiful, fierce and beguiling, she is serene as she dipped and swirled through the clouds. An effortless dancer whose performed for those who kept their gazes skyward. Inside, her heart hammers, wildly it fluttered against her white boned breast as anticipation skittered down her spine. It branched, as the lightning forked in the heart of the storm, into her veins and energized her blood.

This is a reunion she has longed for, after all, what is time between sisters but a promise of meeting again? A separation which allowed them to come together, stronger than before. She cannot keep the grin off of her pale maw as finally, finally, the Night Court's flickering fire light comes into focus. Warm and soft, illuminating the water which clung to stone and flora alike.

She's in there, an excited part of her rasped. It has been too long, comes the next breath. She had missed her when the Crow King and the Maiden had visited, somewhere else, preoccupied with another task which had come at an inopportune moment. But there are no duties now, to keep them from this, and it took her all to keep herself together as her golden hooves reached out to touch damp stone.

Neha alighted with all the grace of a warrior, precise as a dancer's toe upon the stage. Her wings folded anxiously to her sides as she hurried into the stone arch, her hair curled and clinging wetly to her neck and shoulders. Her gold glinted in the firelight, raindrops shimmering in the light's embrace as her own inferno gaze peered out.

"Stormsinger?" She cannot contain the excited lilt to her accented voice now, as it echoed through the stone and wood, deeper and deeper into the Palace she drew. It is hard to keep the traditional face of a Rahliah born and raised a warrior, even if this one is the rain and wind made flesh and blood. In this moment she is a sister looking for a sister, cast to opposite ends through fate and destiny who have finally managed to find their way back to one another. "Aislinn?"

The night sky wept in tears of dribbled starlight and storm. And she reveled in it’s contradiction, it’s chaos, it’s wicked beauty as she flew.

The heavens opened up for her with their clouds of bruised violet, shrieks of lightning burning the ivory of her mane like a shining star. She is glowing amidst the darkness, flying free beneath the canopy of rainfall. Hidden, blissfully, wondrously, in the secrets of the summer’s tempest as it ravages the land far, far below. It is a symphony, a lullaby, a chorus that sings for her as much as she sings back.

Aislinn had never felt more at home, at ease. It was almost a reunion. Almost.

Silver-dipped feathers catch the wind as she dives, a meteor crashing towards an unsuspecting earth. The mist clears, sudden and all at once; Veteris gleaming in the shadows like a city inlaid with smoke and starless skies. Defiant bonfires dot the city with the Denoctian’s revelry, music thrumming in her veins like the storm that roars all around her.

What she would give to stay forever aloft in the eye of the storm. To share in this moment with one other.

The Court of Stars is alive, so so alive. But instead of joining them — her people — the regent circles, swirling closer and closer to the tallest tower of Castle Night. The wide doors of her window remain clear as she swoops inside, nestling her wings close. Her heart is wild; thundering unconstrained in the cage of her ribs. The rain continues to weep for her, in bliss and in despair at the loss of their stormsinger from their grasp. But she is never not far.. no, not at all.

Calligo’s shadows sing to her in hums where the thunder does not. Aislinn steps into the throes, vanishing into the deep of the castle. She follows the silent music — that tug where a whisper murmurs to her soul. It is the very same that speaks of her beloved storms, her hurricane, her stars and moon and night. But this time.. this time, the whispers have a different voice.

It is a voice she knows all too well. A voice she craved to hear again.

Stormsinger?

She knew the accented whisper of her name on gold-dusted lips. Aislinn is rushing, her hoofbeats quick on the stone floor. Light, desperate to find the home of such a voice.

Aislinn?

”Wind Whisperer?” she calls back into the dark. The thunder outside rolls in answer.

Her sister. Her sister is here.

Aislinn halts, blue orbs flaring wide. ”Neha.” Her gaze flickers like kindling, warm and.. joyous her in disbelief. She had changed, but yet she had not. Her sister, beautiful and burnished in night gold and silver. The same air of salt and brine and rain’s sweet kiss. Aislinn couldn’t help the smile that played upon her lips. ”You’re here.”

Adopted or no, there were some bonds stronger than blood.

And she is here — right in front of her.