This hurricane's chasing us all underground
the winter chill kisses the huntress' heavenly, blood-red flesh. she feels winter's icy breath, waft against her jasmine-scented skin; a frigid kiss. a harsher brush of dragon's teeth. up above her, ermine-snowflakes drift from the black-grey skies; how they float eeriely upon the cold, ebon night. a december ambiance, studded by a billion, shimmering stars. a december ambiance, caught in the dreamy throes of their northern lights, whilst smoke billowed from warm houses in the distance. it is waning starlight, waning moonlight, whilst miles away delumine stood, regal against all the icy terrain. delumine is an elegant fortress, doused in snows - their towers, raging, against the glowering, taiga woods. tonight, however, is no ordinary evening, as euryale remembers stepping out of her gothic bedroom chambers donned in her luxurious enchantress' silks. the cerulean skirts ride her waistline like sheer, silky film. cerulean gauze dripping down her hair, too, making her appear born for a queen's crown.
set-up on a blind date, euryale calantha is minimally dressed, as usual, although no excitement shows on her face - for now. her classic enchantress' attire, and glittering mythril jewels, glistens upon her lilac hair and soft-pampered skin. this evening the feral priestess is not covered in blood. she is not remembering sin and wrath. this evening she is refined, graceful; beautifully accentuated by silvers and blues, and she smells like wealth and glamour. against her deliciously dark skin, euryale's shimmery, azuline dress glows like winter. against her porcelain face, the mythril tiara, glows, too. she remembers throwing her sword at the foot of her bed, lined in wolven fur, and remembers, too, the heavy stares upon her svelte figure just as she had left her bedroom and entered the main hall. and if they all stare at euryale, it is for good reason; look at her, over there, the lady in red, they would all but sigh. they would all whisper.
several days before this evening, a winter's blizzard took hold of the delumine citadel. it left meters of snow, and out just beyond the borders of the city, where a small lake had frozen over. there were a few couples outside already, skating upon the frozen lake. euryale calantha waits for her blind date, beneath the dreamy glow of a single streetlamp. from the distance, she sees an elegant figure approaching, a figure bathed in lavender and hair made of palest silver. "good evening," her feminine voice, soft and husky, uncoils in desirous fashion, reaching the pale-skinned stranger amidst the subtle drizzle of snowfall.
@Mesnyi
and a riot about to explode into flames
