“both beauty and terror, without beginning, without end.”
Ah, here it is, the spark and ember glow of the end.
She laughs as the flames rise like dragons around Morrighan. The heat makes her eyes water but she does not look away. This is only a mockery of the sacred fire, of all the viciousness that sleeps half-forgotten in the center of her marrow. Her hooves whisper over the grass, using flight and gold-song, to hide the wrath itching its way down her spine.
It pools beneath her burning eyes, flashing white as lightning when she blinks away the smoke and tears. The pain makes her smile.
She's still laughing as she circles around Morrighan and her furious flames. The gracefulness of her steps turns lion feral, wolf feral, djinn feral. She is soot, and smoke, and embers sheathed in white-fire. “Love?” There is only scorn, and bitterness, and a thing unleashed in her voice. She is danger instead of dancer.
Al'Zahra bares her teeth at the space between the two of them, firelight echoing on them and turning them profane. This, this look of hers on the face of beauty, is a thing that consumes worlds and unmakes them down to cells, and organs, and bones scattered like seeds. “What do you know of love or of me?” Her eyes are aching from the smoke, but she still circles and circles like a snake about the newborn world.
There are still too many teeth in her look as she throws herself into fury instead of the noose of this thing between the two of them. “Tell me, Morrighan, tell me one thing about myself. Prove to me that you love me. Or is it only loved now?” And she does not tuck away her teeth, or her wrath, as she stops to face the woman who knows nothing about all the things that Al'Zahra is.
@Morrighan
