[private] heaven is on fire; aeolus

[Celina]

As the light fades, so does the warmth of the day, and soon all that is left is the purple-grey sky and the promise of a cold spring night to come. Dusk is Celina’s favorite time, and a soft smile curls around the crocodilian teeth that protrude from her white lips. It’s not a pretty smile, not even with her pretty sea green eyes or the glitter of iridescence that surrounds them, but it is a happy one. Her steps are light on the forest floor, a thing much practiced in her woodland home, but she makes no special effort to go unnoticed. That would be nearly impossible on a night like this anyway, when her white coat shines pale in the moon and dozens of fireflies blink a constant light show in a cloud around her. She makes her way toward the sea, forging her own path through the chest-high ferns rather than follow a trail. Celina likes the way their fog-damp fronds tickle the white scales of her neck and belly, the way they bend and sway in the wind that grows stronger as she draws nearer the rocky shore. There is a bit of a swagger to her walk, one that she works to emulate - the prowl of an arrogant predator. Her father’s walk, and though it looks out of place on her lanky teenage frame, perhaps practice will someday make it natural. When she steps out into the open air, the striped filly takes a deep breath as she closes her eyes. It smells of salt and stone, and in the woods behind her a white owl calls out a single warning before its hunt begins. Celina is growing tired, but she has found the nest she shares with her father empty, and she does not like to sleep alone. He is busy tonight, she thinks; he is often busy. What he gets up to on such nights is no concern of hers (or so Wolfbane has said), but the white filly is sure that it is something important. Celina adores her father, and his return to Taiga has filled her with delight. That their growing closeness has come about at the same time she grows more distant from her mother is of no concern. Mother wants to keep her sheltered, to keep her from exploring, to keep her from achieving her full potential. That is what Dad says, anyway, and Celina agrees. Why else would Lepis try to keep Celina away from her father? Why else would she say to be careful, as though Wolfbane is someone to be cautious of? A yawn reveals a mouth full of sharp teeth, but the crisp air is invigorating, and the young filly is soon trotting down towards the black water. The beach here is as much stone as it is sand, and her steps are slow, each hoof placed carefully on a foothold illuminated by the glow of fireflies. When she stands cannon-deep in the water, Celina stops, and lowers her head to the lapping sea. Her fireflies grow dim, all but one that hovers just in front of her nose. It blinks - on off on off - and just as the water beneath it starts ripple, she strikes. A dozen teeth snap shut on the wriggling body of seabass, drawn to danger by the lure. Celina throws her head back, and with a few quick crunches, swallows it nearly whole. With a satisfied smile and a midnight snack taken care of, the young girl turns back to the shore, only to find someone else standing there. She tilts her head curiously, but does not speak. celina i'm that bad type, make-your-mama-sad type make-your-girlfriend-mad type, might-seduce-your-dad type