04-28-2020, 08:18 PM
xi
our gospel is living flesh sprawled in dust
Unsuspecting of Xi's abrasive temperament, the obsidian youngling is noticeably ill-prepared for the woman's singular command. The painted woman observes as the girl's iridescent wings lift away from her spindly frame to appear larger and at the way her youthful muscle defiantly grows taut. Xi's own hardened lavender eyes soon find company in a small grin that appears only just because she is amused by the girl's challenge (apparent, it is, that she does not have someone in her life to readily explain social etiquette), though it has a short life upon her beautifully harsh face.
The sounds of the surrounding area deaden unnaturally ─ the birds, the lake, the wind all falling flat in her angled ears. Why? the obsidian girl asks, and her quiet voice is the only thing that does not sound muffled. And despite what it is that has slipped from her lips, a single-worded inquiry, she does what Xi has asked.
Maybe her ears hurt.
Whatever had hushed the Field had extended to the stallion's hooves; Xi does not notice him until he is near enough to join the conversation, her irritation in his sudden arrival apparent in the way she flutters her lucid wings rapidly against the gleam of her hips. His honeyed voice, though reprimanding of the younger winged girl, feels almost too kind. Especially when paired with a face as admirable as his.
Ivar. She wonders what higher power he'd sold his soul to for a face like that.
“If you don't want to, it does not matter to me,” she darts her lavender gaze back to the girl's brief moment of petulance, “but perhaps you would prefer to answer my questions about this place without the distraction of explosions?”
Her words are clipped, and offer no additional explanation beyond the downturn of her lips and the tightness of her pupils.
“Now, if you would both be so kind as to tell me where I am,” a conspiratorial whisper as her gaze turns from the charcoal girl to the paint-splashed man and back again, “You'll be free to go and can both enjoy your day elsewhere.”
The sounds of the surrounding area deaden unnaturally ─ the birds, the lake, the wind all falling flat in her angled ears. Why? the obsidian girl asks, and her quiet voice is the only thing that does not sound muffled. And despite what it is that has slipped from her lips, a single-worded inquiry, she does what Xi has asked.
Maybe her ears hurt.
Whatever had hushed the Field had extended to the stallion's hooves; Xi does not notice him until he is near enough to join the conversation, her irritation in his sudden arrival apparent in the way she flutters her lucid wings rapidly against the gleam of her hips. His honeyed voice, though reprimanding of the younger winged girl, feels almost too kind. Especially when paired with a face as admirable as his.
Ivar. She wonders what higher power he'd sold his soul to for a face like that.
“If you don't want to, it does not matter to me,” she darts her lavender gaze back to the girl's brief moment of petulance, “but perhaps you would prefer to answer my questions about this place without the distraction of explosions?”
Her words are clipped, and offer no additional explanation beyond the downturn of her lips and the tightness of her pupils.
“Now, if you would both be so kind as to tell me where I am,” a conspiratorial whisper as her gaze turns from the charcoal girl to the paint-splashed man and back again, “You'll be free to go and can both enjoy your day elsewhere.”
@[Quietude] & @[Ivar]
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Xi possesses Spontaneous Shattering.
Noises louder than a whisper result in nearby objects exploding.
Noises louder than a whisper result in nearby objects exploding.