AISLINN
SHE TASTES LIKE MOONBEAMS AND LAVENDER
The stormsinger did not know of whom flew freely across Calligo's borders — her king's borders — and maybe that fact alone would be her undoing. Her eyes did not meet his, as instead she watched his painted wings pump against the sleet in calculated strokes. She mimicked him, sweeping her own feathered plumes, like a breathing second shadow as she tailed him. Her legs pranced against the soaking earth as she landed in the glade, stopping to a halt with mud sucking at her ankles. As she turned to him, she noted the refined muscles of his splotched ivory frame; the strong wings that carried him through the screaming wind and storm. She breathed in the air, searching to find his scent, to put a name to a place of where this strange man could have hailed from.. but she was met with only the stench of mud and dying autumnal leaves.
Speak — quickly and to the point.
"You do not command me." Fiery blue orbs narrowed on him, gaze unfaltering as she searched his ocean eyes. There was an undeniable, untamed spirit that beheld the painted man; and one that she did balk at. If anything, she raised her defiant chin, her eyes daggers and her muscles burning for spilled blood.. should things turn to that. That was her duty after all, as the chosen Champion that worked hand in hand with their Warden. A leader of their warrior clan, defenders of the Night and their king. But before that she was a gypsy. A warrior-hearted woman born and bred for the battlefield. A protector, a knight, a destroyer. She would go down until her last dying breath should it mean the livelihood of her beloved kingdom..
..and she had just let the Sun King walk through their door.
She watched as he preened his wing, and as he did so, Aislinn tilted her crown. Small braids falling through the rain-soaked threads of her mane, she folded her wings to her sides. He was not of this Court.. not a Child of the Night, not a son of the beautiful and wicked Calligo. Suspicion burned in the back of her throat as her body tightened, searching his face. Unaware of whom stood before her, or of the potential damage he could cause. If only she had known.
Her voice did not falter or break as she stated: "State your business or see yourself out of our lands."
@maxence ohhh shit
SHE TASTES LIKE MOONBEAMS AND LAVENDER
The stormsinger did not know of whom flew freely across Calligo's borders — her king's borders — and maybe that fact alone would be her undoing. Her eyes did not meet his, as instead she watched his painted wings pump against the sleet in calculated strokes. She mimicked him, sweeping her own feathered plumes, like a breathing second shadow as she tailed him. Her legs pranced against the soaking earth as she landed in the glade, stopping to a halt with mud sucking at her ankles. As she turned to him, she noted the refined muscles of his splotched ivory frame; the strong wings that carried him through the screaming wind and storm. She breathed in the air, searching to find his scent, to put a name to a place of where this strange man could have hailed from.. but she was met with only the stench of mud and dying autumnal leaves.
Speak — quickly and to the point.
"You do not command me." Fiery blue orbs narrowed on him, gaze unfaltering as she searched his ocean eyes. There was an undeniable, untamed spirit that beheld the painted man; and one that she did balk at. If anything, she raised her defiant chin, her eyes daggers and her muscles burning for spilled blood.. should things turn to that. That was her duty after all, as the chosen Champion that worked hand in hand with their Warden. A leader of their warrior clan, defenders of the Night and their king. But before that she was a gypsy. A warrior-hearted woman born and bred for the battlefield. A protector, a knight, a destroyer. She would go down until her last dying breath should it mean the livelihood of her beloved kingdom..
..and she had just let the Sun King walk through their door.
She watched as he preened his wing, and as he did so, Aislinn tilted her crown. Small braids falling through the rain-soaked threads of her mane, she folded her wings to her sides. He was not of this Court.. not a Child of the Night, not a son of the beautiful and wicked Calligo. Suspicion burned in the back of her throat as her body tightened, searching his face. Unaware of whom stood before her, or of the potential damage he could cause. If only she had known.
Her voice did not falter or break as she stated: "State your business or see yourself out of our lands."
@maxence ohhh shit
