Ni'Srilan: The Desert: i thought it sat on my head nicely.

"we dance amoung our shadows,
our enemies connected feet to feet."

She had taken to the land with great enthusiasm, after all it was her fresh start.

The ocean was quite different with its sea-salt smell and the constant wash of the waves. But her memories lurched as the hellish hounds came from the midst in the night from a brooding storm. She sighed weary, she would return on day, to visit at best, for now the deserts she considered her permanent home. The mountains too were different, vastly different. Lush with new foliage, the rigid edge to the cliffs and hidden paths. Part of her missed it there.

Even if Stelios was gone, if if Fenrisulfr the one who saved her from the hounds was queen, because all she can remember is the shadow horses as they moved across the meadows, chasing her into the trees and entering her being. Flesh wounds and the smell of decay along with the burns across her skin.

It was all there, a story of scars on her flesh of three claw marks, to the healed wounds covered by soft tissue. Her body was a story all in its own, ugly, and forsaken. But no longer does she look upon them with shame, instead they are her triumph.

Her skills were new to her, her body bathed in water and cool to the touch. Her lightning skittering across her flesh, dancing and playing with it. She was the mother of storms, or would be. Eventually she would be able to conjure them, but for now what she had she was satisfied with.

Her mind touched the others, her mind-reading ability still so very new to her. But she felt that cold touch move down her spin. Long ago she felt the same fear, fear of others and fought to make any physical contact. Her mind had been programmed to run. But it is when her mind touches this other new comer (for she is relatively new here too) She couldn’t help but want to be the first to welcome her. Because she of all people knows what it feels like.

That scared feeling, yet lonely feeling.

She follows her but only for a moment, watching her from a distance as the sand caressed the land. “hello“ She chimes, her voice high and girlish, almost flute-like. She hopes her attempts are not in vein. A friendly and welcoming smile set across her bay features as she watches her, skitter across the deserts.

She waits.

k a s p a r a
lightning III; water I; Kemush and Datura