Where a goddess from another world holds winter's chill in an intimate grasp, Solis bathes his desert kingdom in sundrops of gold. A stormsinger is a shadow that dances across those same sands; the burnished heat turning each fleck into glitter that shines into her eyes. For she could not be further from the embrace of her beloved goddess, as she travels not only farther from her home, but at the high noon of daybreak. The sun above is a sphere of fire that dribbles in heated bliss. Although the stars have long since fallen asleep, her comfort lies in the dark of her skin — for she knows, knows without a shred of doubt, that Calligo holds her close as she ventured farther into the Mors. The hooves that strike the sand beneath her is the roaring thunder in her heart, her soul. Each inhale is the churning of hurricanes, and every exhale is breathing carnage and havoc in its wake. Her power is an untouched gift; straining at the bit of her self-control with a wildness befitting of her and her alone. Not once did the stormsinger think she would return to the land made parched under a ruthless sun, and a god that burns his kin. She remembers how the frost dared not kiss the earth that slides beneath her hooves, and the hidden treasures within each swell of sand. Only once, was she brave — or foolish — enough to breach her northern borders. Then, she had been under the cover of a starry night, deep in the blanket of Calligo's grasp. This day.. this day was a completely different story. Now, she has come with purpose. As she crests the dunes and sweeps into the haven at the valley's center, Aislinn is a storm swirling in ash and dust. The dark silk of her skin sizzles with the lightning that strains to burst from her flesh; to electrify the pearly waters of the oasis. At the heart of lush greenery — a gem, in such a vile place — lays the woman she seeks. Or rather, her means to an end. She would be too reckless to have traveled so far to not know the face of the woman who's hand once served right under the nose of the Commander King. Maxence. But he was not her, truly. For she still laid under the swelter of Solis's sun, soaking in each drop of gold that landed on her skin. And he.. he was buried somewhere in the endless red sands; the bones of his painted body picked clean. A forgotten memory. The stormsinger could barely contain her scoff as she stops, a cloud of dust swirling around the ivory of her legs. Slowly, she exhales, and with it, she blinks back the surge of tsunamis that build in her lungs. The storm in her is barely contained as she looks upon the viper. For as her eyes lands upon her, they are no longer blue sapphires, rival to precious stones.. But flames that scorn, as she marks the face of the Davke Queen with a vengeance that sings war cries in her blood. Her lips curl then; wicked and lovely, chaos and bruises. She could almost swear that what little shadows were born from the sun above slithered closer to her still as she spoke: "Viper." @avdotya <33 "Aislinn speech." |
