Neerja's whiskers twitch first, in her sleep they jerk and shudder, her nose turns up and her lips curl back as fangs extend, reaching for something that the tiger does not know in her sleep. Her great body rolls with shudders, racked with silent movements that remind her Pagasus of just how deadly her companion can be.
Like the fluttering of birdwing, Moira Tonnerre's eyes open softly, slowly, and all too quickly to the twitching and unease of her sleeping friend. Around them is magic, a sea of pillows and blankets sparkling and engulfing them, a canopy drooping, heavy drapes closed around the bed the two shared. Here, they are hidden to the world, but not from it. Phoenix heart shivers as she reaches forward, carefully running her nose down the tiger's neck, gently soothing her until golden eyes meet golden eyes. Are you okay? the girl asks, and the tiger frowns in return. Something is happening she returns, unnerved.
Nothing good ever comes when Neerja is brought to stillness such as this.
Hands tingle along the healer's spine, dip flirtatiously along her ribs to lure her out of bed, bring her to her mirror where she dawns her bangles upon her wings, her bracelets about her ankle. Carefully she combs through braids from the night, pulls them into some semblance of decency with only a few strands pinned away from her face. She is a beacon of the evening, a herald of night, and glory reincarnated with the face of a sharp-eyed girl.
One last glance in the mirror leaves searching eyes watching the tiger that pokes her head from between heavy curtains.
The ensemble walks quickly, humming a reply to the magic that seeps into the air, a boiling pot of potential and a breeding ground for disaster. But she cannot resist, and Neerja is sworn to protect her cub.
The field is first seen by the beast, a look of distaste heavy on her brow until she glances upward, upward into the face of the sun who wears a gentle 'o' upon her lips. Delight, surprise. Her silver bracelets chime as she glides forward, her bangles sing a song to the wild mountain flowers on the Steppe where they met Sabine not so terribly long ago. Neerja cannot resist the childlike awe that is sewn into the seems of the phoenix heart beating so loudly.
"Neerja, there are jungle flowers here!"
Lobster-Claw glistens under the dying sun, made ever more radiant in their crystalline form. Promeliads seem to beg her to look at them, to reach forward and try to smell the magic that they stew in, and oh how she answers. The winged girl with a carefree smile slips between poppy petals and gardenia leaves to bend closer, closer. Eyes sweep closed, she's near enough she knows she should stop.
But how can one deny the request of a flower?
She does not stop, does not feel as crystals graze her nose, does not feel when a cut upon her cheek from a too-sharp edge begins to bleed red. Red as the sunset, red as orchid veins. Neerja does, and the tiger growls, demands her Pegasus return.
Moira does not listen as she hears their jungle song, its frantic rhythm pulling her heart as the magic does, thrumming inside, strumming outside, humming from carmine lips pulled back in a haze. And she dances. A slow waltz through crystal fields, a solo act of isolation, a piece of art her mother would love to join in on. Perhaps then, she does not stop because she feels close to the soul of her gypsy dam, the fire that a long-ago artist once felt as she danced and drew until love swept her away on a tide of misery. So she lets those leaves graze her knees, lets the blood splatter drop by drop upon leaves of yellow and white and blue. Moira does not feel dead, oh no, she feels very alive as euphoria climbs higher and higher. She does not think of what it will do when that feeling dives off the cliff, into an unknown below, for there is too much to forget, to let flow from her now in her wild and wondrous display.
OOC: I didn't put her at a specific time with anyone, so if anyone wants to see her dancing like a
***STAFF EDIT
@Moirahas rolled a 4! She has been awarded +100 signos for interacting with the flowers.
