This keening soul;
She looks at the unicorn that rears with groping hooves up to the stars which midnight holder, bright and twinkling. It’s flesh is pale, liquid moonlight and frangible as bone china. If she touched it, she is sure it would shatter into a thousand pieces, returning to little more than the blinking shards of stars above.
The horn, it points to one lone star. It gleams brighter than the others. It’s laughter is fire in the darkness. It’s lungs roar and it burns hot and wild. With glittering eyes it watches the star fire girl below; the girl who walks beneath that still, marble gaze of a sculpted unicorn.
Leto bears nothing as sharp as that unicorn’s horn. Her weapons are soft, their threat is nothing cold and solid, like a sharply worked blade. No, they are hot and wild. They are the gentle licking of a flame, soft blue edges, hot as a furnace. Her magic is the heat of stars falling and the keening of a world that watches its sky falling.
She comes for the blood divines such terrible things. It whispers of ancient magic stirring, rising and evolving. Leto comes, with her breath held like a vice in her lungs. Oh, oh, time slips and slips and the blood she wears is singing.
| "speaks" | notes: loooooong
STAFF EDIT***
@Leto has rolled a 4! She has been awarded +150 signos.
