resting in diamonds
From the shadows, she watches him.
Raum may be the ghost of Denocte, monochromatic and silver and stealthy, but Caligo is the night. She fades away into the darkness as if she were a part of it - or rather, as if it were a part of her. The stars scattered like diamonds upon her pelt glitter and gleam, like moonlight playing off the stones and trees decorating the edges of the place of worship.
Her eyes are pools of shadows deeper than the ocean, and yet they miss nothing.
His daggers are thrust upon the altar, a pair of gleaming twins catching and refracting each other’s moonlight in an intimate dance that sings of malevolent intentions. It’s a sweet, sweet melody to the demigoddess’ ears, particularly when coming from one of her children, one of the followers of the Night Court.
“Vengeance.”
Her voice echos his from her place within the darkness, as she takes her first few steps forward and into the light. Peeling away from the sparse trees and boulders, her form slowly takes on a shape of its own, shedding its chameleon skin as she stands beneath the moon.
Caligo smiles, her teeth bright against the darkness, bright against her midnight pelt, bright like the full moon shining over her head. His wicked joy is her own, burning hotly inside of her despite the many, many years that had tried to temper it. But Caligo’s wrath is wild, untamable, unbroken - centuries of wrongs committed to her and to her people have chafed at her spirit. Their words and actions have bended her, molded her, and strengthened her as a sword is strengthened by the fire. His rage is her rage; and the love she harbors for her Court is stronger than all else.
“And what sort of vengeance is it that you have in mind, Quicksilver?”
Step after step after step, each one bringing her closer to the Denoctian Warrior. She does not stop until she is finally upon him, standing nose to nose with hardly a hair to separate the demigoddess from her servant. For a moment she is silent, letting the light of the stars glimmer as a thousand eyes in the sky and upon her belt. Bright, silver, and watchful.
“Pick up your steel, Raum.”
It is not a suggestion, but a command - one that she suspects the Ghost will be all too willing to obey.
@Raum
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