Desreal: nightshade and aspirin; saphira;

The lurker enters, the unknown fact of why she has came.

But her fire writhes inside her, coiling around her attempting to bust loose. The scarred black hag-mare can taste some significant on the wind, that there is some meaning to her arrival, that there is something or someone calling to her, touching her, whispering to her.

But yet she burns inside herself, her fire explodes and in one moment she blazes. The black of her flesh steams lightly, Her mane and tail replaced with fire, her orange-gold eyes shimmering beneath the heat they hold. Her breath comes out like charcoaled smoke and every step she takes fire tracks are left. Her element consumes her, untamed, and wild and for now, it is here, on display for all to see the power she has.

Her Vulture looms high above the trees, spanning in endless circles as he takes from others the power of their element, giving her strength, giving her the power she needs.

Lebanon smiles, wicked and cruel, but she does. Leaves and grass burnt to ash as they touch her heated flesh.

She forgets her children, forgets her ties to the Deserts, forgets Hypatia and what she means to her, because she is all she has left. The iron fist queen.

She does not know why she forgets, she just does. The spy moves on in search of whom it is that is calling her. But she smiles, and continues to do so because after all, she knows this will be no pleasant encounter. Instinct told her so.

But then again, she welcomes the morbid, the chaos and she never turns back.

mc. lebanon
abomination;