your heart is a wild thing
made of stardust and thunder and hurricanes
made of stardust and thunder and hurricanes
She was broiling anger and earthquakes, hurricanes rumbling in her heart and her gaze flaming brightest blue. Her muscles groaned and her bones cracked as she absorbed the shock of her landing, her feathers bunched and still as she awaited the slam of the thief's body into her own. He would hit a wall of steel and muscle, if she had planned her assault right. Her lungs are burning, blissfully burning, as the stormsinger pants to catch her breath. The oxygen in her blood is boiling, hotter than dragon's breath, and her stance steadies as she prepares for the oncoming onslaught of the thief with their stolen coin.
Aislinn, a tornado of rage and a hurricane of fury, stood with her muscles clenched against her strong bones, like a pillar of stone against a battering sea. Unmoving. Intimidating. But instead of her prey slamming into her body and into her trap, her ears catch the sounds of hooves hurriedly scraping against stone. Not one set, she realizes, but two. Her gaze flickers to her right side, orbs landing on the tell-tale thief with a sly grin playing at her velveteen lips. All of the stars that normally graced their skies like silent watchers, glimmering pearls against the sea of her Goddess' beautiful darkness, were now slumbering. Calligo's obsidian shadows were their only witness, save for the second set of hooves that had pounded against the city's stones — a girl glad in red and gold.
Mila—? No.. A spark of familiarity struck her then; the sharp taste of surprise bright and tangy on her tongue. Another girl of sunbursts and desert sands, much like the devious little thing she had come to know very well, although she had not wanted to. Where Mila was mischievous and wicked and quiet lethalness, this girl — woman, she corrected, albeit young — exuded simmering fire and dusted gold. Between pants of breath, the woman's gaze was unmistakably similar; orbs as sharp as daggers of burnished amber. Up close now, Aislinn could finally see through the long casting shadows of her Goddess' starless night; she was freckled and beautiful, strong and lithe in her frame. Unbearably, painstakingly too similar to the other, lighter half that Aislinn had grown not too fond of.
Calligo forbid, there are two of them. She nearly sighed aloud in disappointment and disbelief, when the darker twin had spoke.
Give..what is mine back and just maybe. Maybe..I won't kill you.
With a sudden burst of brutality and rage, the stormsinger spun on the thief, quick and violent. She pinned him with her shoulder and left wing, creating a cage of pure muscle and feathers, her anger manifesting like a whirling summertide storm. He, a unfamiliar face with a coat the color of depthless obsidian, and a mane the color of topaz, was now forever burned into her memory. He, who had the audacity — or stupidity — to steal from one of the Children of the Night while they were under her watchful gaze. He, who now would stand judgement for his crimes, brought in by her hand and tried by no one other than the King of Stars and Smoke.
Night King?
The look the stranger gives her sends her stomach roiling, and not in the best of ways. She cannot place it; the tinge of something — attraction, disgust, she did not know. Aislinn's eyes only widened and sharpened and honed; spears of blue fire that sought to make her prey cringe. Let him be afraid of the singer of storms, the Champion that protected Calligo's court with an iron fist. His words struck her, and she nearly lost herself in her frustration, her building temper. "Do not pretend that you have willingly stepped into our lands and committed a crime whilst not knowing who sits on the Shadow Throne," she spoke, her voice pointed, hoping to bruise.
She was too close to him to realize that he had thrown the woman's satchel to the ground, immediately throwing his cards to the wayside. His hand played, it seemed. Aislinn nearly smirked, her lip quirking as she heard the clunk and clinking of metal on metal.
Take your stupid rocks. I was just trying to figure out — just take them back. I'm sorry.
A coy, amused grin tugged her soft lips upwards then as she leaned back. Her outstretched left wing still holding him where he stood, Aislinn's gaze flickered between the nameless thief and the woman whom he had stolen from. Her brow quirked as she watched the woman, her defiance over her precious cargo and willingness to catch him in the first place striking a sword of respect in the stormsinger. Thinking of Mila and her poisonous tongue, however, she was not quick to give the golden twin too much leash of trust just yet.
Kill me.
The stormsinger nearly loosed a wicked string of laughter then, but oh no, instead, she narrowed her eyes. Weapons of blue steel, through thick lashes, she bore into him. With a shake of her crown, Aislinn pursed her lips. "I don't think so. You will be brought before the Night King, and he will determine your fate."
As she moved to herd him towards the Keep, she stopped, looking down at the woman of red and gold and eclipsed suns. "You need to come with me as well," she stated, not asking, but demanding; the softest of winds from a dying hurricane.
By Calligo she prayed this girl was not like the other freckled mistress she had once quarreled with on the Peak.
@
here you go babes! please excuse ash as she has a WTF moment xD
@reichenbach @parade @
"Aislinn speech."
