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Mila
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#2



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?"




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


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Messages In This Thread
kindling in my soul; - by Acton - 10-03-2017, 08:45 PM
RE: kindling in my soul; - by Mila - 10-08-2017, 02:20 AM
RE: kindling in my soul; - by Acton - 10-09-2017, 10:07 AM
RE: kindling in my soul; - by Lavinia - 10-15-2017, 01:13 AM
RE: kindling in my soul; - by Mila - 10-19-2017, 08:12 PM
RE: kindling in my soul; - by Raglan - 10-19-2017, 08:46 PM
RE: kindling in my soul; - by Acton - 10-23-2017, 11:20 AM
RE: kindling in my soul; - by Lavinia - 11-07-2017, 08:06 PM
RE: kindling in my soul; - by Mila - 11-16-2017, 11:40 PM
RE: kindling in my soul; - by Raglan - 12-10-2017, 03:58 PM
RE: kindling in my soul; - by Acton - 02-01-2018, 11:38 AM
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