you have poison in your heart
The mountain peak was like a beacon in the distance -- staring at her, beckoning to her -- as she traveled. A place of worship, an aclove close to the gods themselves; a stairway to heaven as she climbed. A string of curses loosed from the wicked lovely thing's lips as she trotted higher and higher still. Damn the gods, all of them. The gods of this world were no different than the nasty beings that had her bastard parents throwing wee little babes across the desert sands to rot; no different than the so-called gods that sent "saviors" to scoop them up and take any ounce of innocence they had left. The only one she felt even a shred -- however small, however hesitant still -- of indifference was for Calligo. The demi-goddess of Night, triumphant of shadows and stars and miracles born of darkness itself; the only true home she had ever felt. That was why she had found a sudden, shriveled up desire to make the climb to this world's highest point. In a half-attempt to try and thank her, to pray like the devout.. well, she hadn't exactly figured it out just yet.
Nearing the peak, her breath comes out in soft pants as the air thins. Her ears flicker at the sound of voices, suddenly aware of the presence of others lurking within the citadel. Mila slinks into the shadows, a phantom of red and gold, her ears pricked and listening. She roams and finds solace in the darkness at the corners of the cave, moving deeper inside as emerald-jeweled eyes take in the sight of.. not strangers, but family. Her heart floods warmly as she takes them in; Raum, a ghost of quicksilver and secrets (and reeking of sand and scorched earth, although she would not tell him this), and Freya, her ocean-kissed skin and gold trinkets shining under the little light in the sacred aclove.
The freckled chestnut beauty melts from the shadows, all grace and fluid movements as she makes herself known. Her locks of flaxen ginger-gold are tied up into a messy bun, loosely held by a shimmering gold ribbon, and adorned with trinkets throughout. As she nears the shrine of her Goddess, Mila pulls one of these trinkets from her thick tresses -- a small one in the shape of a star -- and places it onto the altar. She whispers a prayer, half-heartedly but not at the same time, before turning to her company with a coy grin tugging at her lips. "Fancy seeing you two here.. all alone," she teases, a bell-like giggle bubbling in her throat.
@Freya @Raum
second post with her -- still trying to get used to her persona! please bare with me c:
"Mila speech."
and fire to your touch
The mountain peak was like a beacon in the distance -- staring at her, beckoning to her -- as she traveled. A place of worship, an aclove close to the gods themselves; a stairway to heaven as she climbed. A string of curses loosed from the wicked lovely thing's lips as she trotted higher and higher still. Damn the gods, all of them. The gods of this world were no different than the nasty beings that had her bastard parents throwing wee little babes across the desert sands to rot; no different than the so-called gods that sent "saviors" to scoop them up and take any ounce of innocence they had left. The only one she felt even a shred -- however small, however hesitant still -- of indifference was for Calligo. The demi-goddess of Night, triumphant of shadows and stars and miracles born of darkness itself; the only true home she had ever felt. That was why she had found a sudden, shriveled up desire to make the climb to this world's highest point. In a half-attempt to try and thank her, to pray like the devout.. well, she hadn't exactly figured it out just yet.
Nearing the peak, her breath comes out in soft pants as the air thins. Her ears flicker at the sound of voices, suddenly aware of the presence of others lurking within the citadel. Mila slinks into the shadows, a phantom of red and gold, her ears pricked and listening. She roams and finds solace in the darkness at the corners of the cave, moving deeper inside as emerald-jeweled eyes take in the sight of.. not strangers, but family. Her heart floods warmly as she takes them in; Raum, a ghost of quicksilver and secrets (and reeking of sand and scorched earth, although she would not tell him this), and Freya, her ocean-kissed skin and gold trinkets shining under the little light in the sacred aclove.
The freckled chestnut beauty melts from the shadows, all grace and fluid movements as she makes herself known. Her locks of flaxen ginger-gold are tied up into a messy bun, loosely held by a shimmering gold ribbon, and adorned with trinkets throughout. As she nears the shrine of her Goddess, Mila pulls one of these trinkets from her thick tresses -- a small one in the shape of a star -- and places it onto the altar. She whispers a prayer, half-heartedly but not at the same time, before turning to her company with a coy grin tugging at her lips. "Fancy seeing you two here.. all alone," she teases, a bell-like giggle bubbling in her throat.
@Freya @Raum
second post with her -- still trying to get used to her persona! please bare with me c:
"Mila speech."
