[mature] the girl she's hiding horns; brunhilde

[Leokadia]

she got blood cold as ice
and a heart made of stone

Small, pretty, dainty Leokadia stares with rude interest at the flame. Tongues of fire erupt along the girl’s midline. Angry thing. You sound like a siren. The cremello frowns thoughtfully at this reply before keeping a smug silence. It is a rather complimentary accusation and she has nothing to return for it. The river between them hums its complaints about being confined between the two banks on which they stand but Leokadia is not distracted by the twisting splashing song, she remains focused upon the other girl. So much color, vibrancy and feeling to oppose Leokadia’s own pale and placid presentation. Were it not for the mud stains and the haphazard drag of her wings she might be considered angelic. Almost anyway. Her eyes are frequently narrowed just the tiniest bit, a look of restraint, amusement, or calculation, behind which blue-white irises are too intense for her refined and beautiful face. 

“Hello.” Is her only reply, and she does not even give it an edge of smartness. The same low lovely smooth tone only. Of course she knows how to introduce herself, she can be very complimentary when she wants to be but her only real interest in showing herself was seeing what would happen if the mare went into the water. “I know what happens when I go into the river.” Bored with the idea or so she puts on. Sighing she does as she is bid, wading in downstream of the other woman. A dare it might have been but she is not frightened by flames no more than she was frightened by plagues, or dark gods, or dragon kings. Leokadia is nearly in the middle of the river when she notices the way her companion’s body shifts and slips as her feet try to find purchase on the bottom. Lo slips too, some, but she isn’t in danger of drowning or of being extinguished. She has crossed and swam many times.

It is probably a bad idea to put herself in the way of being swept downstream by the other girl but she does it anyway, her own wings clutched tightly to her side. Where the water touches Lo’s skin the mud is washed away, leaving her only have filthy.She edges up to face the fire-winged woman and plants her feet. ”Here I am, Fireball.” She says flatly, glancing at the sizzling edge of flaming wings and then back to the topaz eyes in the saffron face. “I’m Leokadia.”

but she keeps me alive
she's the beast in my bones

Leokadia

@[brunhilde] @[Brunhilde]