Stood far away from the merry making by choice, finding herself in need of prayer to her one true God, the lady Farwynd gazes at the ocean sprawling down below the balcony near which she stands very still, her breath stilled to near motionlessness, transfixed, as the moonlight coils around her with all the grace of a mythical serpent and her dark eyes glow unnaturally, strangely deep and malefic as she strains her senses to see what Darkness has to offer, what whispers her God murmurs for any ear that cares to hear it.
She looks otherworldly, heralded by the moon and stars, draped in black and silver silks, her shoulders bare under the frothy lace of her sleeves, languidly leaning against the wall as she whispers something very softly under her breath, a summons to the Great Other, and the darkness that hangs over the world around her grants her with its dark secrets.
Entranced, almost, a furious, cold energy thrumming all around her, she inhales exceedingly slowly, black eyes narrowing, searching the seas, as her mind fills with visions, half dreams and memories, synapses flashing. The shadows part and as the veil of Darkness lifts she sees only death and grief. The sharp pang of winter, terrible and drowning. Blood filling the icy slopes of a mountain, rivers of it dripping like a flood that threatens to upend the world entire, and black-bright rain filling the land. Somewhere on those mountains, a wolf howls.
Ayenna gasps, blinks rapidly, heart racing. Somewhere near her, footfall heralds an unexpected arrival. Torn from her reverie, she pries her eyes open and exhales sharply, drawing the light velvet cape draped over her shoulders, tighter about her. Something bitter rises in her throat, but she does not let it consume her. She gathers herself, an icy veil of indifferent detachment swiftly cast over herself as she returns to the world around her. She's exceptionally lovely as she stands coldly up right, with something of both the dark cold ocean and velvet in her. Her eyes are dark and moist, her mouth glows, sweet with lipstick; her skin reflects the starlight. When she speaks, her voice, so very cold and melodious, does not betray neither the spike in her pulse, nor her annoyance at the disruption of her reverie.
β I was feasting my eyes upon the view, which you are now blocking.β she informs the unexpected wanderer elusively, her smooth voice trailing off as she remains with her back pressed against the wall and her dark eyes gleaming like shards of obsidian. When she moves, the strangely bright devilline stone upon her throat, shimmers amidst the shadows that envelope her. The gentle breeze whips raven-black curls into her face that she does not deign to pull away again.
@rvnxnt Alaric & Yenna
