she's a tornado
with pretty eyes and a heartbeat..
Too long had she been wrapped in bloody bandages and made weak by a Solterran's hands. Too long had she looked upon the pink blossoms of spring and seen her blood spilled on snow instead. Too long had the storm that wrecked havoc inside her lay dormant. Slumbering. Chained within the confines of her skin and bones. So now, when she had heard the whisperings for Calligo's protectors to convene.. Aislinn could not ignore the call.
As she walks, Aislinn tests the mobility of her healed wing. Not so long ago, the bones had been ripped, ruined; the once beautiful plumes shredded from her skin in plucks of skin from his teeth. Now, Reichenbach's healers have done wonders for her. Although she had yet to taste the air with newborn flight, the stormsinger's wing was made new again. She felt surprisingly rejuvenated, despite the anxiousness that had settled within her like a second shadow. All she needed, to her healer's protests, was a good old fashioned brawl.
To this day, there was nothing like settling frustration and pent up anger like the ache of fresh bruises and torn knuckles.
Alright ya bastards, let's get to it!
Aislinn stops short of the dais overlooking the square, with storm-wrought orbs on her friend. She expected nothing less from Rostislav. He was just as much a soldier as she; after all, he was their king's chosen Warden. And she, his Champion. Even now, she could still recall the first time they had met with crystalline clarity. A summer night born under a sea of their goddess' stars, and together, they had battled with no names, no titles. Only their fists and mutual burn for the battlefield. In that way, they were very much alike. And in that moment, when she did not know at the time, Aislinn had gained a new friend. A colleague. A comrade in war.
A low chuckle rumbles deep in her throat, but it is one of amusement. Excitement. Things she had not felt in some time, that they almost were entirely foreign to her. She welcomed it gladly, dipping her eyes and her crown in respect to Rostislav. As she blinked upwards, Aislinn sought to catch his gaze. Her orbs land upon Damaris, before swirling into twin blue hurricanes that sweep over the crowd gathered here. Faces new and old it would seem have found themselves rapt to hear their Warden's words.
Funny, how she was their leader and barely recognized a single face. She would need to remedy that.
Her voice finds her, raspy and light on her lips as she tilts her head at her friend. "Let's hear it then," she muses, "you know better than anyone that I can't say no to a fight."
@rostislav ♡ welp here. because liquid time is a thing xD
As she walks, Aislinn tests the mobility of her healed wing. Not so long ago, the bones had been ripped, ruined; the once beautiful plumes shredded from her skin in plucks of skin from his teeth. Now, Reichenbach's healers have done wonders for her. Although she had yet to taste the air with newborn flight, the stormsinger's wing was made new again. She felt surprisingly rejuvenated, despite the anxiousness that had settled within her like a second shadow. All she needed, to her healer's protests, was a good old fashioned brawl.
To this day, there was nothing like settling frustration and pent up anger like the ache of fresh bruises and torn knuckles.
Alright ya bastards, let's get to it!
Aislinn stops short of the dais overlooking the square, with storm-wrought orbs on her friend. She expected nothing less from Rostislav. He was just as much a soldier as she; after all, he was their king's chosen Warden. And she, his Champion. Even now, she could still recall the first time they had met with crystalline clarity. A summer night born under a sea of their goddess' stars, and together, they had battled with no names, no titles. Only their fists and mutual burn for the battlefield. In that way, they were very much alike. And in that moment, when she did not know at the time, Aislinn had gained a new friend. A colleague. A comrade in war.
A low chuckle rumbles deep in her throat, but it is one of amusement. Excitement. Things she had not felt in some time, that they almost were entirely foreign to her. She welcomed it gladly, dipping her eyes and her crown in respect to Rostislav. As she blinked upwards, Aislinn sought to catch his gaze. Her orbs land upon Damaris, before swirling into twin blue hurricanes that sweep over the crowd gathered here. Faces new and old it would seem have found themselves rapt to hear their Warden's words.
Funny, how she was their leader and barely recognized a single face. She would need to remedy that.
Her voice finds her, raspy and light on her lips as she tilts her head at her friend. "Let's hear it then," she muses, "you know better than anyone that I can't say no to a fight."
@rostislav ♡ welp here. because liquid time is a thing xD
