[Worship] godless

[Aislinn]

SWITCH THE LIGHT OFF, WELCOME THE NIGHT WHAT’S THE PROBLEM, NOT GONNA MAKE IT RIGHT BITE THE BULLET THEN PULL THE TRIGGER HOLD TIGHT IT’S A FEELING, YOU KNOW In the darkness that gathers, her orbs find the dust of stars that shine brighter than strikes of lightning; the very same lightning, that not so long ago showered down upon Solterra’s Warden. The very same lightning that sizzled across earth and snow, blood and sweat, igniting her veins with a burning that could not be quenched. The very same lightning that she adored, for the wildness and beauty of something untamed, that created the opening in which Torstein took. It was then that the opening in her defenses ripped a hole in her armor, her rage. Still, her wing still aches where the bones had snapped under thundering hooves — still, the stars in her vision then spark across her eyes as she looks upon Calligo’s night sky, peaking through the pillars of the mountain citadel. Even now, she hears his voice. Unwanted and dripping in poison. It’s not safe to be alone with me. In the shadows and filtered starlight, Aislinn’s lips curl in a soundless snarl at the memory. She would not be so naïve this time. Not while the Solterran queen stands only a few paces from her. Aislinn can only wonder — wonder if this woman before her thought of her as weak. Weak from her arrogance, her broken body, and the feud that had been clashed in a world made colorless by snow.. all except for her blood. Splashed and contrasted in an ugly crimson against the white. But now.. now she was strong, and every ounce the guardian she had been trained from nothing to be. Like hell would she be anything or than the warrior she had been born to be. She would not break. Not again. Not by Solterran hands. Not by anyone. And I know who you are, Stormsinger. The queen’s calmness was irritating, only serving to rouse the storm inside her with a burning for violence. Where Aislinn is a barely contained beast hiding behind a mask of starlight and ebony skin, Seraphina is all regality. Restrained even, where the stormsinger’s seams begin to unravel with her hatred for any under Solis’ thumb. Most of all.. their queen. Their Sovereign. A muscle twitches violently in her upper lip, her gaze unblinking as she swallows. Angry waves crash in her blood and bones, beating against her insides with a swirl of hurricanes amidst an open sea. But with an inhale, the waters calm, just enough to satiate their broiling rage. Her fury that knows no bounds. All she needed was the right push, should this meeting turn sour. What would you have if me? What did she want? Vengeance. Revenge. Her Warden’s head on a silver platter. But what did she truly want? The safety of her people, of all Calligo’s own. Every night-born and star blessed child to be saved from the unpredictability of the Davke. And yet, not even the Day Court’s Queen was safe from those who called Solterra their own. A question burns in her mind. How long would they be safe until the Viper’s hunger for blood for no longer quenched by Solterra alone? How long until they breached into Denocte? And what would she do to stop it? Ask this queen — if she was still a queen — to be allies? To share in a common enemy? Aislinn didn’t know. She only knows the darkness of Calligo’s shadows that curl around her in their silence, the clouds drowning the starlight from the temple. She finds a comfort in the dark of nightfall, where her goddess’ fingers dance across her in answers to each unspoken question. Aislinn can only decipher them for her own. In this moment, swallowed in darkness, her orbs nearly glow brightest blue, finding her answer. She pins Seraphina and her mismatched gaze of gold and blue — the sand and sea. Her disgust is hidden in the dark, only noticeable with the clip of her words as they drip from her lips. "I would like many things from you. Where would you like me to begin?" She steps forward, uncurling herself from behind the Night goddess’ rearing statue. Aislinn stops just shy of the silver, cracking her neck. "First things first" — her right wing hooks, aiming for Seraphina’s cheek — "that is for your Warden breaking my fucking wing." With a huff, she grunts, retreating and swiveling her muscles of her wing. The very same one, that not so long ago, had been damaged and broken. Bleeding and shredded, all torn feathers and dripped blood on snow. Not anymore. The stormsinger raises her chin, fires in her eyes glowing blue embers in the moonlight that streams into the temple, illuminating them. "Now let’s talk." RUNNING UNDER LIGHTS OFF IN THE SKY NOTHING MATTERS WHEN YOU’RE IN THE FIGHT HOLD YOUR FIRE MAYBE WE CAN MAKE IT ALL RIGHT @Seraphina <33 -screaming- "Aislinn speech."

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