He had not been with Freya long before the temple begins to sing with a familiar rhythm of clipping feet. Too many time Calligo’s darkness worked like a blindfold and by now, through many years of working the shadows, Raum had become accustomed to seeing through the darkness where others might not. Yet Calligo’s magic could always work deeper still, would always knit itself together, tighter and tighter until the black was near impenetrable, even to this Corw’s eyes. It was then she taught her Ghost to listen. Raum had long ago learnt the sound of each twin’s feet, the rhythmical dance of each Crow’s own body.
Raum knows, even before the desert girl’s bird-like voice begins its taunting song, that Mila is there in the shadows and darkness. He turns to where she pours out across the temple like liquid gold, hot and dangerous. The blue of Raum’s gaze is as deep as the sea and he turns the full force of them upon Mila; his water set to strip the heat from her skin.
There is no intent to strip the girl of her humour, it is just impassive the way he watches her. For a long while he regards the younger Crow, wondering if she merely aims to tease or if she knew that he and Freya had once had something. A something borne of convenience, granted.
Freya, viperous, wild as she was, bit out a fierce and biting retort that had Raum’s lips curling into smirk. He remained limned in shadow beside Calligo’s altar, his offering of ebony roses wilting softly in the cool mountainous air.
It was there he remained when Rhoswen also slipped from the darkness, her body blazing with a fire that even Calligo’s shadows could not quench. He blinks, as if to keep from dousing her flame with his ocean blue gaze.
The look she gives him is bleak, even for the wild storms her gaze normally yields. Yet the silver boy holds it, like the raging sea beneath her squall, until she looks away and then, only then, does he shift his gaze back to the others. It would be a brief passing however, for from the darkness approaches another. The Crow instantly recognizes this creature with his pallid skin and imposing torso. Nerves begin to tingle, electric awareness seeping through his skin as coils of wariness begin to knot within his body. But Raum is quicksilver and to quicksilver he returns, becoming once again sleek, cold and unaffected.
Raum lets their gazes of electric blue and bruising plum meet, holding them for as long as Solterra’s Warden wishes to. An ear twists forward, though retreats with Freya’s caustic quip. Raum turns the tide of his ocean gaze upon her, the blue of his gaze suitably cold for the presence of Torstein. “Touché.” He murmurs, his lips no longer finding the curve of a smile as he schools his reaction into something more subtle. This was a lesson in tact, for how long had Solterra’s Warden been watching? Enough to see a Crow lay a rose at the altar of his goddess?
The Ghost’s face smooths into easy acknowledgement, “Indeed, it is good to see other Solterran’s here. It brings some balance to our numbers.” His eyes flit between the four others gathered before returning to Torstein, “I saw your appointment to Warden at the meeting, congratulations.” The Crow’s lips curl into a smile as cool and freely flowing as water. “I am Raum, by the way.”
He would have left it there, would have found some way to free himself from this situation, in an unsuspecting manner and yet the situation continued to spiral, wild and out of control: A girl arrives, battle ready, bearing shadows as her armour. Her eyes flit to Freya and Mila at the rough rebuke.
Freya’s laughter ricochets around the temple as caustic as the gypsy warrior’s. Her dismissal is sharp and this time Raum does allow an amused smile to light his lips, a smooth, perfect lie. “Discord amongst the ranks in Denocte?” He asks slyly with blue eyes glittering like a sea before the storm.
Begins the long list of tags:
@Freya @Mila @Rhoswen @Torstein @Aislinn
Raum knows, even before the desert girl’s bird-like voice begins its taunting song, that Mila is there in the shadows and darkness. He turns to where she pours out across the temple like liquid gold, hot and dangerous. The blue of Raum’s gaze is as deep as the sea and he turns the full force of them upon Mila; his water set to strip the heat from her skin.
There is no intent to strip the girl of her humour, it is just impassive the way he watches her. For a long while he regards the younger Crow, wondering if she merely aims to tease or if she knew that he and Freya had once had something. A something borne of convenience, granted.
Freya, viperous, wild as she was, bit out a fierce and biting retort that had Raum’s lips curling into smirk. He remained limned in shadow beside Calligo’s altar, his offering of ebony roses wilting softly in the cool mountainous air.
It was there he remained when Rhoswen also slipped from the darkness, her body blazing with a fire that even Calligo’s shadows could not quench. He blinks, as if to keep from dousing her flame with his ocean blue gaze.
The look she gives him is bleak, even for the wild storms her gaze normally yields. Yet the silver boy holds it, like the raging sea beneath her squall, until she looks away and then, only then, does he shift his gaze back to the others. It would be a brief passing however, for from the darkness approaches another. The Crow instantly recognizes this creature with his pallid skin and imposing torso. Nerves begin to tingle, electric awareness seeping through his skin as coils of wariness begin to knot within his body. But Raum is quicksilver and to quicksilver he returns, becoming once again sleek, cold and unaffected.
Raum lets their gazes of electric blue and bruising plum meet, holding them for as long as Solterra’s Warden wishes to. An ear twists forward, though retreats with Freya’s caustic quip. Raum turns the tide of his ocean gaze upon her, the blue of his gaze suitably cold for the presence of Torstein. “Touché.” He murmurs, his lips no longer finding the curve of a smile as he schools his reaction into something more subtle. This was a lesson in tact, for how long had Solterra’s Warden been watching? Enough to see a Crow lay a rose at the altar of his goddess?
The Ghost’s face smooths into easy acknowledgement, “Indeed, it is good to see other Solterran’s here. It brings some balance to our numbers.” His eyes flit between the four others gathered before returning to Torstein, “I saw your appointment to Warden at the meeting, congratulations.” The Crow’s lips curl into a smile as cool and freely flowing as water. “I am Raum, by the way.”
He would have left it there, would have found some way to free himself from this situation, in an unsuspecting manner and yet the situation continued to spiral, wild and out of control: A girl arrives, battle ready, bearing shadows as her armour. Her eyes flit to Freya and Mila at the rough rebuke.
Freya’s laughter ricochets around the temple as caustic as the gypsy warrior’s. Her dismissal is sharp and this time Raum does allow an amused smile to light his lips, a smooth, perfect lie. “Discord amongst the ranks in Denocte?” He asks slyly with blue eyes glittering like a sea before the storm.
Begins the long list of tags:
@Freya @Mila @Rhoswen @Torstein @Aislinn
![[Image: x341oLX.png]](https://i.imgur.com/x341oLX.png)
You're one microscopic cog
in his catastrophic plan
in his catastrophic plan
