A I S L I N N
some people are born with tornadoes in their lives, but constellations in their eyes.
other people are born with stars at their feet,
but their souls are lost at sea.
- nikita gill
Colors. So many colors washed in hues of deep violet, crimson, and luscious orange.. like watercolors melting together across the ocean of sky. The air was thick and humid; the world fully blossomed as spring slowly gave way to the coming heat of summer. Soon, the fever to come would blanket the land, and with it.. the coming off summertide storms.
And oh, how the storms ravaged. Wild and untamed and wicked in their beauty. Each tide of heat would bring them, swirling in their madness and destruction. But when the riot of rain and thunder was over, a quiet calm would left in it's place.
From a young age, the summer storms called to her. Lightning in her eyes, hurricanes drowning oxygen in her lungs, and the color of storm clouds forever painted on the plumes of the her wings. The shattering of rain on the sea and the crack of thunder rolling across the darkening sky sang to her like a sweet lullaby. And as the sun fell asleep to welcome the coming of night, the inky mare stood with orbs on the horizon.
She stood proud on the edge of the cliffs overlooking the angry sea, strong winds whipping her silvery mane and tail around her warrior-built frame. Salt and brine filled her nostrils as she breathed deeply, the crash of waves below her as loud as a clap of thunder. Across the ocean, she eyed the gathering of dark billows, their violet and indigo clouds suffocating the last colors of sunlight from the sky. Flashes of light cracked, the blood in her veins thrumming as the storm gathered it's strength. The gypsy woman stretched her wings, aching to take flight and soar to the eye of the cyclone. Instead she watched silently, waiting, her heart drumming as the storm sang a song only she could hear.
Thread inspired by this playist.
