[AW] kindling in my soul;

[Acton]

Acton these violent delights have violent ends It was the kind of storm that was only born at the death of summer; the sky was an ominous band to the west, lightning flickering low and mean, the air too humid for this late in the season. There was no question that a cool front would sweep in behind it, coaxing the leaves to color and drop, breathing frost on the plains.   Acton didn’t mind autumn, but he intended to give this last behemoth storm the audience it deserved.    He was not different than much of the Night Court in his love for storms. But the buckskin found more muse in them than most. In each hungry fork of lightning and each groaning rumble of thunder he found inspiration. To be able to hold others in thrall the way a storm did, or to cause such a dramatic scene – ah! He loved each mighty crash, especially the ones that shook the world to its bones. Acton could feel the reverberations of those moments echoed in his heart.   This one he watched from a parapet walk, careless of the consequences of watching a storm roll in from one of the highest places for miles. If he was struck by lightning and lived, he’d consider it a blessing – if he died, well, he deserved worse than to go in such glorious fashion.   For the moment, all was quiet. No rain had reached the castle yet; the air was still and thick, clinging to his skin like damp rags. His raven-dark hair curled in the humidity as he stood, a perfect counterpart to the momentary stillness. Acton was a livewire, blood humming, every nerve alive, alive, alive, eyes wild and going white-rimmed. His heart leapt with each distant flicker of lightning, each promise of the storm.   He was only utterly himself in moments like this.   So absorbed was he in the coming tempest that he did not notice the moment when he was no longer alone.  @Lavinia and anyone else who wants to come say hi to the magician crow.

[Mila]

you have poison in your heart

and fire to your touch

Autumn had quickly set in and stolen what little warmth there was from the earth; leaching it of the sun's heat and instead bringing with it frost and the promise of winter far on the horizon. But summertide did not lose her clutches on the land so easily; for the skies still darkened and bruised and churned, lightning crackling across indigo clouds in the distance. The chilly air was nearly vibrating; the sunburst girl swearing that the shivers down the length of her spine were simply the cause of electricity building in the air. Or excitement, or adrenaline. She was not for certain save for one thing — she was not unlike the many others of Night who adored the chaos and beauty of thunderstorms.

Her thoughts immediately traced over to the embodiment of such storms itself; a gypsy woman — her King Crow's knight — whom was stardust and hurricanes crafted into flesh and bone. And fury, she recalled. The memory of Aislinn's fiery rage, and Mila's own annoyance, was quick to resurface; bringing with it the bitter taste of poison on her tongue. When lightning sizzled across the sky along the horizon where the clouds touched the earth, the desert-borne girl — woman now — shuddered. Her memories thick and heady and unwanted.

She did not desire to think of such nasty things; not now, at least.

Instead, she had decided, albeit half-heartedly, to roam the castle. To find and discover every nook and cranny. Every tower and dungeon and secret servant's stairs and noble's hiding places. She mentally noted every crevice, every aclove, every treasured little hole that hide behind tapestries and stone. For her own use, for the Crow's, she did not know. But now her wanderings have led her here; to a parapet walkway where in the distance, she could feel the electricity running lengths of shivers along her freckled skin. And from the shadows, lit only by the distant brightness of lightning and the scarce candelabras, was someone she knew very, very well.

He was burnished gold and the ebony black of spilled ink; the buckskin barely older than she. However, despite their closeness that were more akin to brother and kid sister, but now.. well, Mila could finally note the handsomeness that lined his chiseled face. Perhaps it was not only his looks that were alluring to her, like a tempest, but the illusionist, mystical side that brought wonder flooding into her blood like a drug. A magician, and best yet.. a thief. Then again, she was no better — for the Crows were a band of misfits bound by more than blood; and she, their toxic mistress with her beloved bottled death and plants.

A coy grin played at her soft lips as she thought such things, stepping out of the darkness and into the firelight. Her voice was musical, and pointed, like one of her twin's cherished daggers, as she spoke. "Being up here when a storm is about to hit is reckless, even for you, Acton," she said by way of greeting, in her own special way. She bumped him with a shoulder, her emerald gaze far off and watching the rolling clouds. "How have you been?"

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@acton @lavinia hope y'all don't mind Mila dropping in ^u^
"Mila speech."

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[Acton]

Acton these violent delights have violent ends Her steps were soft even on the stones, the sound of them covered by distant thunder. Even the scent of her was muted by the thick humidity, the pungent smell of ozone. He did not notice the sugar-and-spice of her (tempered by burning, by the darker smell of herbs) until she was beside him, until she spoke. He jerked in surprise, the motion quick as lightning across his skin, and tried to cover it up with a derisive snort, a toss of his proud head. As quickly as he scanned a potential mark he flicked his gaze over her, the freckled, dusky skin, the hair the color of fire first lit. Acton did not try to hide his smile. Ah, Mila. Beautiful and deadly, like most everything he liked. “I’ve been bored,” he answered her, eyes turned back to the horizon, dark pupils reflecting the lightning that flashed and threatened and worked its way ever nearer. What he said was the truth, but not the whole truth. What he meant was Ever since Reichenbach was made king things have been different. And I don’t like Raum being gone or being in Day alone. And maybe, most of all - I want a war. But he gave voice to none of them. She might know, anyway; she knew him about as well as anybody, save maybe their silver Ghost. At last he turned to her, his grin a fearsome thing, the same feverish, waiting energy as the storm rolling off his skin. He looked half-mad, which was to say, he looked himself. “That’s exactly why I’m up here,” he said, answering her earlier statement out of order. “One has to keep up appearances.” His expression turned briefly inward, some private joke (or maybe secret), but then it cleared again and he leaned companionably against her. The buckskin wondered if she felt as kinetic as he did; she always seemed so measured, at least by Crow standards. When she lashed out, it was never accidental. His gaze followed hers back to the dark front as another groan of thunder rolled toward them, this one closer. Almost close enough to feel in his chest, his bones. “But reckless isn’t my first word for you - what brings you up here?” Beneath that question was an echo of her earlier one - his own way of asking how have you been?   @Lavinia @Mila

[Lavinia]

Lavinia MAKE IT LOOK PRETTY, BUT TRAIN IT TO KILL The storm managed to drive its way into the castle, no matter how heavily they barred their doors. In some places, it whistled through the cracks in the walls and sung eerie songs in the dead of the night. It was not the storm that was so unbearable, but the constant screeching of the wind ripping through their walls was almost enough to drive anyone mad. Almost. She had taken to wandering the halls under the guise of patrolling. It did not bother the others to see her walking aimlessly with a mass of dancing shadows trailing behind her. What people didn’t know was that she was planting eyes all over the castle. Small eyes that were mostly unseen. They faded out of view when someone looked directly at them, but to turn away they caught the strangest glimpse of their figures in the corners of their eyes. Some would have sworn that the castle was haunted at this point, and there had been the occasional murmur of ghosts. Usually, when she overheard such rumors, she would smile and continue on her way. Lavinia was not an expert thief for nothing, she had outside allies as well as within the crows. The eyes were just there to watch, and tell her who came and went. And in case they spotted problems for the Night King. Today, wandering the halls, she grows bored and wonders where her twin might be around this time. Her wandering led her to a parapet where she could very easily see the storm as well as feel it. Her golden gaze landed on two familiar figures not too far from her, her twin and Acton. "Not surprising to see you both up here." @Mila @Acton "this here is your speech colour!

[Mila]

you have poison in your heart

and fire to your touch

The crackle of white-hot lightning was not the only cause of the shivers trembling down her freckled, sunburst skin. Flaxen locks flittered madly against the chilled breeze, the metal moon and star pieces adorning her long hair tinkling in the wind. She stood on the edge of the soft shadows gathered around them, but in the far open enough where the chill of autumn began to seep into her bones like shards of icy glass. Mila shivered, visibly discomforted, but she did not dare voice such things. Instead, her ears pricked at the illusionist's words, her fellow Crow. Acton, who was a master of mischief like them all. His words spoken and unspoken were of no surprise to her; in fact, a wicked grin tugged one side of her red lips into a cruel, amused smile.

I've been bored.

"I often worry about what happens when you become bored, Acton," she started with a slow shake of her crown, "but then I remember that you are attracted to mischief, like us all." A bemused glint her eyes gleamed as she blinked at him with an all-knowing grin. Acton, her brother Crow, was chaos and discord bound and woven into beautiful, deadly gold-and-ink splotched skin on a muscled canvas. A magician, an illusionist, a master of the arts of smoke and mirrors and distractions. Her emerald-jeweled eyes met his of topaz. The threat of the storm swirling in the distance and above them had every nerve in her body on fire, her skin heated under his golden gaze. He looked nearly mad — at ease with the brutality of Calligo's bruised skies and the lightning crackling through the clouds.

Freckled nostrils flared as thunder rolled and drummed across the sky — loud and ringing through her ears as it clapped nearer to the castle. Her smile did not falter however, as her gaze blinked to take in the gathering storm. "Always doing what I do best," she answered, his unspoken question hanging between them. She peered at him from the corner of her eye, as she replied with a wink, "Tinkering, tailoring, and killing my enemies in my dreams." Cryptic and lethal and beautifully violent.

Her other half, her beloved twin, however, was a wraith of shadowed crimson and sharpness that melted out of the darkness gathering around them. Surprise did not touch Mila as Lavinia's presence joined them; like a magnet they were, always drawn together. Where one was, the other would surely follow. That was how they were, had always been, ever since their youth when they learned that they could only count on each other. Until the night their King Crow had arrived, saving them, and plucking them out of their tragic existence before offering them an oasis.. a family.

Her poisonous little heart warmed at such thoughts as she took the sight of her sister and her brother figure. "Lavi," she breathed, affectionate as her shoulder bumped her twin's, "dare I ask what you've been up to?"

---

@Acton @Lavinia our crow babies <3
"Mila speech."

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[Raglan]

The storm front was a wily one.

Drafts pushed up and down and every which way as the Silvertongue careened through the clouds, thunder rumbling at his back and adrenaline coursing through his veins. Stretching his neck forward, silvery locks pulled away from his face by violent winds, Raglan whooped with joy and plunged down down down, through the cloud cover and toward the earth. Racing the tempest, the blood hued youth responded to the bellowing of the storm with a wild scream of his own, his reply quickly eaten up by the rolling of the clouds as they clashed with the gods. 

Folding his wings to his sides, the Crow angled his body into a straight dive toward the parapets and thick stone walls of the fortress, the figures that peppered the walkways growing larger with every passing second. The drop stole the breath from his lungs and the laughter from his lips as he plummeted, the ground looming before him. Closer closer closer the walls grew larger and more imposing, death from fall becoming more of a likelihood the longer he waited to pull up. The trio of figures huddled along a parapet's edge became his aim, the fiery coloring of the Twins and the Magician grabbing his attention. Thrilling fear lent a sharpness to the features of the world around him, and the grin that stretched his lips became as wide as it could as his wild, opalescent eyes took it all in - the last moments before what he could decide to be his death. 

But even if he died, the Silvertongue knew that hell would spit him right back out. 

At the last second, Raglan flared his wings, the air snapping at them with a mighty cracking sound as he clenched his teeth in defense of biting his tongue from the sudden deceleration. With a series of powerful down strokes, the Young Crow was able to reduce his speed and flutter the last few feet to the stone floor. Pressing his hooves daintily to the walkway, Raglan shook the tension from his limbs and flashed his fellow Crows a breathless smile, eyes still wild with thrill and looking every inch a wildling. Folding great feathered wings along his ribcage and offering a nod to Acton and a shallow bow to each of the Twins in turn, Raglan stepped forward to join them.

"Magician, Twins, it's been a while," Flashing a roguish grin, the Silvertongue considers sending a wink Mila's way just to rile up Lavinia's competitive nature, but thinks better of it at the last moment, "Reich and Cam have had me busier than a rooster in a hen house."

@Acton @Mila @Lavinia aaa my first thread with other Crows aaaa

[Acton]

Acton these violent delights have violent ends He grinned and ducked his head at Mila’s response, amber eyes flashing at the look in her jeweled green. “Good. Shattering hearts as well, I’ve no doubt.” Indeed, the girl’s eventual disdain for her admirers was well-known in Denocte (and unheeded, most of the time), perhaps second only to that of her twin. As if the thought had conjured her, Lavinia’s voice rang out over the stone, and Acton turned toward the red girl, giving a nod and grin in welcome. He had often wondered what it might be like to have a twin, a bond like the one between the two flame-touched girls before him. Acton always decided that he wouldn’t want someone to know his deepest secrets. To be fully understood – what a wonderful, terrible, strange thing that would be. He hardly understood himself, some days. The stallion kept an ear on them both, but couldn’t help his attention slipping back to the skies. The storm had drawn closer, now; the sharp-chemical smell of ozone was thick, even all the way up on the parapet walk. Soon they would be able to see the rain, the thick sweep of it from far across the valley. Acton never tired of watching that curtain of silver sweep in. All the better that this time, something else swept in with it. At first he thought it must be some sort of eagle or crane, something huge and tempest-tossed that fought with the tumultuous wind. But as it dove nearer it resolved very clearly into Raglan, and Acton laughed even as he backed away to give the Silvertongue space to land. “I’ve heard of storms heralding strange things, but nothing quite so strange as you,” he said with a grin, admiring the sight of the wind-tossed Crow. The buckskin, half distracted from the storm itself, now, leaned companionably against Mila and shook his head at the wild-haired boy. “I thought it was the hens that did all the work.” Whatever he was up to, it was for the best that Raglan had a job – idle hooves were the devil's playground, and all that. What a strange and complimentary gathering they were – Reichenbach’s flames, all orange and red and burnished and wild. Gods help anyone who got in their way. Another groan of thunder, and there it was – the rain was coming in. @Lavinia @Mila @Raglan <33333

[Lavinia]

Lavinia MAKE IT LOOK PRETTY, BUT TRAIN IT TO KILL Lavinia remained quiet as she regarded her twin and Acton for a moment. She didn't feel the need to speak at that given moment as her golden gaze looked towards the thundering storm ahead. It was just like Lavinia's spirit, nothing about her was calm or collected. She was wild and devious, any 'calm' she had was usually before she struck out. When she felt her sister shoulder bump her it was only then that she looked away from the storm towards the other two. A brief smile crossing her lips, "Practicing with my knives of course. I have new moves I'd like to use in a performance soon." She replied with a slight shrug of her shoulders. Her ears pricked back at the voice of another familiar crow, not quite one she was super close to but one she cared about nonetheless. "Clearly they must be trying to keep you out of trouble then, Raglan." Came her only reply with a slight grin upon her face. With a small shake of her head, she leaned forward a bit to look out at the rain as it began to pour. A part of her wanted to be out there dancing in the rain but she didn't want to be the only one out there. Oh well. @Mila @Acton @Raglan "this here is your speech colour!

[Mila]

you have poison in your heart

and fire to your touch

In a flurry of wisps and wings, a show of adrenaline and sheer stupidity, her eyes looked above. Orbs of spring green narrowed, pointed as she watched a figure the color of dried blood plummet from the heavens. Like a meteor, the Crow fell, before his wings snapped open to catch his descent. She could only shake her head, her brow furrowing, but not without a sly smile tugging the edges of her lips upwards as well. Even as their Silvertongue stepped forward to join them, lightning crackling along her skin, her blood bubbling at the sight of him.. she could not help but glare at him. Save for a glitter of warmth hidden in the emerald of her eyes.

It's been a while.

The mention of their common enemy curled her pretty mouth into a wicked snarl, her growl matching a roll of thunder rumbling around them. She was brutal and violent, quiet and honest. Her lethal tendencies more silent compared to her brethren Crows gathered at her sides. She giggled, elated and amused, the storm winds tossing the wild of her flaxen mane.    Mila's grin only grew when she caught Raglan's wink. With a bite of her lip, she returned the gesture, if not only to just poke at her own sister's sore spots. They may be twins, after all, and she would go to Hell and back for her sister.. but that did not expel them from simple sibling annoyances.

"It seems I missed the meeting between Maxie and our King of Thieves," she drawled, gaze flickering back towards the gathering storm. The thought of the painted commander strolling through their doorstep made her freckled skin crawl. "I would love nothing more than to feed him one of my concoctions and watch the skin fall off of his bones." Her lip curled, and she cracked her neck, her heart and soul screaming for blood. Revenge. Vengeance. And if she could be the one to drag him to the pits of Hell itself, so be it. With a sharp intake of breath, she burned, silent and as murderous as the storm that embraced them. Rain pattered upon her body in cool droplets, like fingers of ice that she could have sworn turned to steam the moment the sky's tears touched her. She cooled, asking, "What did I miss, Crow?"

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@acton @lavinia @Raglan sorry for the wait lovelies <3
"Mila speech."

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[Raglan]

There was a certain warmth that blossomed within the Crow's chest as he beheld his family, each painted in shades of flame while he stood draped in blood; it seemed a fitting wardrobe for the street-gang-turned-imperial-network. It was odd to consider, really, that the lot of them had clawed and crawled their way from backgrounds that would make weaker creatures cringe only to rise - and rise together - to the forefront of a nation. Raglan felt as the mischief in his grin melted away and transformed into an expression of genuine adoration for the trio of Crows before him, a fierce pride flickering within those opal eyes.

Fire and blood would always suit the Crows better than most. 

Laughter bubbled up from his belly as he suffered the onslaught of teasing remarks from his comrades - he hadn't nurtured a reputation for roguish nonsense for nothing. In fact, it proved to be a wonderful springboard for boyish charm and stupid decisions. Rolling his eyes and nodding his head in exasperation, the Silvertongue replied through the remnants of his laughter, "I'll be honest, there was a particular hen that caught my attention, and it wasn't Maxence, though his meeting with Reich was more or less a pair of turkeys flaunting their plumage," Raglan then gave a pause for dramatic effect and slid his gaze over for pointed glance at Mila -- a wretched girl, really, but Raglan wouldn't want anyone else at his back if it came to a fight. They had all been through too much, shared too much to do anything but love one another. 

"Her name is Bexley Briar and she's a Day Courtier... She and the Old Crow are friends. They share secrets with each other. Ones that we don't even know..." His brow furrowed as he thought back on the conversation between his King and the golden girl with murder in her eyes, "She is more than what she pretends to be and I don't trust her."

He didn't have to say anything else, they all knew one another too well to need the verbalization of the mighty question that swirled about in the Silvertongue's mind - What do we do about her?

@Acton @Mila @Lavinia I AM ALIVE AND I AM SORRY FOR THE WAIT