'I was born with lightning inside my bones and violence flowing in my veins '
There are few things in the world that Calliope trusts. She trusts her violence, that lion of fury sprawling in wait deep inside the marrow of her bones. The horn upon her brow is a loyal, thirsty weapon and it has ever drank deep of blood, torn though skin like satin and it's never dulled or worn to anything other than dangerous. She trust herself and the others like her that live by a dark sort of justice.
Calliope does not trust gods. She trusts 'monsters' that could have flown high enough to avoid war and chose not too even less. And she trusts gods that have power weak enough that they can do nothing for war and claim peace when the world is bleeding like a sore even less than both birds and all the corrupt gods she's known before.
Mistrust lights across her back and leaps from bone to muscle when she quivers with her rage and fury. Electricity runs down her wounds and while it's weak her horn is not when she moves close enough to count the stars on Caligo's flesh. “Strange.” Calliope says and it comes out like the growl of a storm, distant enough that the promise of thunder is still a promise and not a gravestone.
She doesn't elaborate. She only looks at those stars and starts to count them one by one until there are no more that she can see through the shadows of the darkness when a cloud passes over the moon like a curtain over a stage.
Until there are no more left.....
And in the silence, between the space where Calliope inhales and Caligo exhales, she whets her horn on the stone at the goddess's feet. Sparks of lighting flash along the sharp tip of her horn as if that point of contact isn't bone on rock but metal upon metal.
Calliope lifts her eyes to the queen's, to Raymond's and then back to Caligo and there is no mistaking the violence ebbing in that sea of silver lightning. “If they turn I will be there to convince them that even the stars are not without the ability to destroy when shaken loose.” This time it's more like a roar in the distance made by a lion instead of a storm, that pours from her lips like a volcano of vengeance.
