i'm a geyser, feel it bubbling from below
hear it call, hear it call, hear it call to me, constantly
Dance, she does. Between the dark trunks of the trees she weaves just as gracefully as a forest nymph. She giggles to herself, a girlish tinkle, at the thought of her existence as a nymph. Brunhilde thinks she would quite like that, a fiery nymph setting the forest’s trespassers ablaze. Perhaps she will petition the fairies. Though, she does get wildly distracted and will not remember her little fascinations in a mere few hours.
Speaking of intruders, a beautiful golden and white boy seems to float into the yearling’s vision. Perhaps he was there all along, but she certainly did not take notice. Her sharp eyes go cold, gleaming, like edge of a steel sword mid-swing. Her gaze drags over his entire body, first suspiciously and then vaguely admirably. Though this is a common land, and he is handsome, she does not like that he lingers beneath her canopy. Before he speaks, she melts the icy glaze of her body and smoothly transitions into the girl that knows exactly what she wants and how to get it.
The leaves shiver as she smiles, a gleaming thing that - try as it might - cannot hide the cool turn of her mind. Simpler beings would fall for the facade; Brun hopes he is much more complex.
His talk of wolves pulls the sweetest chuckle from her lips. The little flame will never give away her lion, his protection always lingering just behind or ahead of her. She can feel Khal a short distance away, hunting something but keeping a close eye on her emotions. The companion that serves more as a guardian is certainly aware of Abysm, though he finds the stallion of no threat just yet.
“I think I have attracted exactly what I’m looking for, actually,” she calls back, stepping daintily through the foliage to get a better look at her new acquaintance. Her eyes cast over the dark of his mane and the pale of his tail, the way his champagne sparkles beneath what little dapplings of sunlight breakthrough.
“Brunhilde,” she murmurs, allowing what trickery she controls to slip from her face. She quite likes the lines of his neck and the gleam of his eyes. She is offering her hand to him, expecting a charming kiss placed upon the back. No doubt that he is not the gentleman one would imagine in such a scenario, but he is just the kind of suave the flame likes.
and hear the harmony only when it's harming me
it's not real, it's not real, it's not real enough
