antlers and horns and scales [longclaw/any]

[Ajatar]

ajatar

devils speak of the ways in which she'll manifest;
angels bleed from the tainted touch of my caress.

Tephra.

The volcano stands a striking testament to the sheer uselessness of the denizens below. It is unlike the Mountain - capital M - lacking the striking mysticism that makes it seem fake. False. Like it might shift again and leave Beqanna with nothing more than rot to cling to. Ajatar was born after this tumultuous disruption, she doesn't know of the lands before it all happened. She knows only Pangea, which is gone, and the meadow, which she's left to follow Longclaw into the land he called Tephra.

"Wow," she breathes, awe clinging to her eyelashes like dew. She looks so young and so naive, as though it never occurred to her to fear or travel or harbor terror. She thinks back to their conversation from earlier - do you ever have a choice as a child? Maybe not, but now? As an adult? She can travel the world without worry about her mother popping up to destroy her new life. What a freeing thought! What a wonderful idea!

"And this is your home? Truly?" she marvels.