[AW] the last of her kind

[Israfel]

Israfel

’You’re troubled.’
 
Israfel gave a snort but did not look away from the setting sun upon the horizon, her expression that of a brooding foal. “When am I not troubled?” Anymore, it was a constant state of existence. Now? She still was, but even more so, and despite the ire brimming in her blood, she was exhausted. It was tiring, being upset and angry and irritated at the world, wanting and needing so much more but unable to discover how to find it.
 
Settled upon a low branch of the tree that the Warden had taken respite under, Solaris shuffled her mighty wings and gave a soft sigh. The Phoenix’s lavender eyes regarded her charge almost cautiously. ’Is it because Asterion has tasked you with the venture to Delumine?’
 
The Sun Daughter frowned. Was it? “No,” she started, the words sounding uncertain on her tongue, “At least, I… I don’t think so?” It was hard to say for sure.
 
When the majority of Terrastella had fled towards Denocte for shelter and assistance, Israfel and Solaris had stayed behind. They fought the storm together, remaining behind amidst the torrential rain, the landslides, the massive sinkholes, doing their job to tend to the land that they had sworn vigil over. Now? Now, things had begun to settle down. The rains had passed and their land was beginning to heal, but instead of continuing her duty of protecting Terrastella, Asterion had given her a new task. Traveling to Delumine with a select few to tend to the Dawn King’s frail son. It would be her job to look over the traveling party and protect them, and that was honorable in itself… Not to mention it would probably do her some good to get out of the Dusk Court. So why was she so irritated?
 
“At least maybe I could swing by and see Ulric again while we’re there.” The Warden of Delumine had been the only individual that she had conversed with during her brief stay in the Dawn Court, and he had been interesting in his own way. Something about him… Well. At least she had that to look forward to.
 
Upon her perch, the ivory Phoenix seemed to grin down at her chosen child. The large avian’s royal purple eyes were shining in knowledge, in knowing, and she dipped her head. ’Indeed, perhaps you could. Now, release your troubled thoughts and try to relax? Things are calming, Israfel. Don’t ruin this victory.’ Vermilion eyes flicked up towards the Phoenix for a moment, holding her keen stare before letting out a soft breath. With a ripple of gilded feathers, the Sun Daughter let her eyes, and thoughts, wander back to the horizon.
 

x - x

@Euryale

[Euryale]

WHEN EURYALE WAKES, SHE WAKES TO THE SCENT OF DUSK ON HER LIPS AND A BED MADE OF BONES. SHE STIRS FROM HER HALF-SLEEP. RISING, IN THE GENTLE APPROACH OF MIDNIGHT HOUR, WITH THE BRISTLE OF HER CRIMSON FUR AND A WILD FLASH OF FANGS. EURYALE IS THE BEAUTY OF BLOOD, AGAINST A BRIGHT, RED MOON.

EVERYTHING ABOUT OUR SHE-WOLF, DRIPS OF BLOOD; SWEET, RED BLOOD; PULSATING. MOIST. WET. ARTERIAL. THE KIND OF BLOOD THAT SPILLS FRESH FROM OPEN WOUNDS, AND COVERS GOLDEN THRONES; STAINING, THE GILDED WINGS OF GODS AND ANGELS. THE KIND OF BLOOD, THAT SINGS AND SINGS AND POURS OVER, DANCING INTO VEINS AND RIVERS OF ETERNITY; FOREVER RED - FULL OF RAW PASSION.

HER SLENDER CURVES, TWISTS, GRACEFULLY. THE SONGS OF HER BODY A CRIMSON VIOLENCE, AGAINST THE ORANGE SEAS OF A SETTING SUN. SHE DANCES LIKE WILDFIRE; RECKLESS, GRACEFUL, WICKED. HER IMAGE, A SULTRY TAUNT OF WOLVEN LANGUAGE, AS THE FURS ON HER NECK BRISTLES AND HER FANGS DRIP WITH A PANTING FEVER. AS IF TO WHISPER IN ALL THEIR PURRING VENOM; COME SATE THIS HUNGER, I DARE YOU.

SHE PROWLS IN THE SHADOWS. FOLLOWING, THE FADED BREATH OF SUNLIGHT. SHAKING THE LEAVES OFF HER SILKY COAT, UNTIL HER SHADOW RIPPLES ACROSS THE EARTHEN FLOOR. LONG, LEAN, LIKE A STARVING PACK OF WOLVES. ONLY SHE IS A SINGLE, SOLITARY PREDATOR AMONG THE COMING APPROACH OF NOCTURNAL BLACKNESS. LAST LIGHT, WEAVES FEVOR THROUGH THE BOORISH CLIFFS, AND HER PAINTED PHYSIQUE SINGS WITH RAPTORIAL EASE. ALL BLOOD-RED ANGLES OF HER, FLASHING THROUGH THE VAST WOODS IN A SHARP, RAZOR BLUR OF SCARLET.

THE SPRING CHILL OF AIR, DOES NOT RELENT; CLINGING, LIKE MIST TO THE COOLDOWN OF SUNSET. ITS ONCE CARESSIVE TORRIDITY, NOW SMOTHERED TO A BRISK CHILL AS DUSK FOLDS ACROSS THE EARTH LIKE THE GREAT, LANGUID WINGS OF AN ARCHANGEL - FOLDING, INTO A SWEET, FEATHERY DARKNESS; EACH FOREST MELODY, NOW PAINTED IN THE STIRRING OF CRICKETS AND THE SOUNDLESS WHISPERS OF DREAMERS.

RAW REDS AND GOLDS, LANCE THROUGH THE SHADOWY SINEW OF THE GRANULAR-SCULPTED CLIFF AND ROCKY CREVASSE. SOMEWHERE AFAR THE OCEANS, BELLOW. EURYALE WATCHES THE SUNFIRE AS IT DRIPS GOLD. SLIPPING, LAST RAYS FROM LUSH FISSURES UPON THE VERDANT CANOPY. THE GREEN, LIT AFLAME BY SHARDS OF AMBER, AS THE SUN DRIPS INTO A BEAUTIFUL CHORUS OF COLOR; BEFORE RESTING UPON ITS COFFIN OF BLACK OCEANS.

EURYALE WANDERS THE PRAISTIGIA CLIFFS. THE LAST BEAMS OF DUSK, WERE HUNGRY FOR ANY STRETCH OF LIFE,  AS THEY SPILL OVER UNTO TWO FIGURES; A FLAXEN-HAIRED MAIDEN AND HER PHOENIX. EURYALE TAKES IN THE WOMAN'S PERFUME. DELICIOUS. ETHEREAL. THAT PALE, IVORY FLESH, BRONZED IN LUSH GOLDS AND THE HOURGLASS CURVACEOUSNESS OF ANGELIC FEMININITY.

As if led by instinct AND lupine impulse, EURYALE is a silent observer in their midst; only the faint trail of EURYALE'S perfume lingering across the brazen, honey-soaked air will WHISPER OF her sensuality.  Lilac curls, fold elegantly about her slender nape; shadowing the bridge of her delicate nose, in a feathery cascade of wild, untamed tresses. The she-wolf will listen, quietly. lobes pulling forward atop her skull, catching THEIR dialect across the SHADOWY EXPANSE.  EURYALE WHISPERS TO THEM, AND HER BREATHING IS NO MORE A black velvet SIGH IN THE EVENTIDE.

"THE MOON WILL BE OUT SOON."

[Israfel]

Israfel

It was Solaris, bright, inquisitive, mythical Solaris, who realized they were not alone. The Phoenix’s head twisted about, beady lavender eyes peering through the daylight and spotting a shape of blood and lilac curls weaving through the encroaching shadows. A whisper on the wind, ever so faint and full of oil, graced the mythical avian’s ears. It would take one second, one moment of perceived threat, for the Phoenix to ignite and set flame to the stalking she-wolf’s oil.

’Hackles up, shield-maiden,’ came her words internal, flowing effortlessly through the mental link between equine and bonded, ’We have a visitor that thinks to skulk and hide in the shadows.’

Israfel bristled, her gilded wings slowly stretching outwards, feathers fanning, and with a deliberate slowness did she turn, full of ivory and pale gold hairs, wind tossed and wild. Petals of fire lilies drifted down from her mane and tail, carried upon the gentle breath of the ocean breeze, but her eyes… Oh, the Sun Daughter’s eyes, vermilion gems full of fire and ire, pierced through the veils to spot the newcomer. Wings poised for flight, feathers fanned, Israfel spoke with a deliberate force.

“… It is unbecoming and dishonorable to sneak about like a rat, stranger,” the shield-maiden’s voice, so typically sensual and coy, had dropped an octave to convey her deep displeasure and warning at this undesired interruption. She grinned dangerously, a slow stretch of rose-kissed lips, an expression of warning and guile spreading upon a face so feminine. “Especially me. Speak your name, and why you have stolen into Terrastella’s borders unannounced.” Ever so faintly could she catch the stranger’s scent, and it smelled nothing like the denizens of Terrastella. It was a foreign stench, the smell of darkness and cunning, and Israfel did not like it.

Above her, Solaris continued to watch, lavender eye never roaming from the wolf in hiding. Ever so slowly did the colors of the Phoenix begin to change, gradually twisting from the ivories and golds that mimicked her bonded to a burning orange and crimson. Flames licked upon the Phoenix’s frame, curving, winding like a gentle caress up body and feathers. The flames seemed to not burn her wooden perch, so carefully controlled as they were, but the threat was clear; speak, or fight.

x - x

@Euryale

[Euryale]

upon her smooth, crimson flesh - soft as blood red silk, against pale snow - new moons, dance in the dark, twilight hour. blue floodlights trails thick cresent lashes as they unfurl in wicked, obsidian lengths along the ivory lines of euryale's cerise-dusted cheekbones. there is a subtle pause here, for the stranger's unmarked hostility; euryale calantha, merely stills. blinks, back her confusion for a moment longer. blood-red countenance, glistening in apathy, in shadowed abundance of embroiling chagrin.

an eloquent, ruby gaze is to rest upon the flaming other. piercing, with vulpine bemusement. where genuine curiosity once festered, now lay a fiery musing for this hot-tempered, fire-headed mare; even if euryale calantha, had thread the path of darkness, the soft lilt of her voice were gentle and soothing, enough; offering, no such warranted threat, but invitation. who had the time for this? nevertheless, the stranger proved no less unapproachable, and less than engaging, leaving euryale filled with distaste. though, a genuine need to apologize arises; perhaps, the individual simply didn't want her company. Euryale relates to that.

"My apologies for interrupting you. 
I can leave if you wish, 
phoenix."
Dulcet tones, sing their cherry red against vampiric lips. Eyes aflush with incarnadine, smouldering hue; flicking smoothly between the bird and the fire-enveloped mare, now singed in ember-licked flames; angel-wings aflush in coppery petals. there is a sincerity to the tone of voice, a wolfish candor emboldening each delicate, feminine syllable as it drips from feral, serpentine tongue. Ruby eyes, lashed in heavy khol, held the other in solemn regards, passive quiet beneath a steely gaze; muzzle, tilting in elegant formality towards that flashing, razorblade grin. An inky smile settles upon smooth, crimson lips; fangs, glinting softly in the now-moonlight.

"My name is Euryale. A new comer to Terrastella."