#nahilvi

It is the 10th Anniversary of the Succulent Tart's Fire Fest

Come out to enjoy the vendors, performers and raves on Friday and Saturday nights. Thursday, June 18th - Saturday, June 20th Mar'at, Uldum Hosted on Wyrmrest Accord

As the Shal’dorei adjusted his tie, he looked at himself in the mirror, unsure if what he wore was right for a Sin’dorei memorial. Should he have chosen black? Was there some unspoken expectation of red and gold, or perhaps something more symbolic, rainbows or ritual adornments? Either could be true, given how his people’s allies handled such things.

He would have texted Iren, but his friend was in the depths of his mourning. Jes respected that. Grief deserved space. In their last exchange, when Irenthalas had invited him to his wife’s burial, Jes had asked how Nahilvi was. Iren had answered that he wasn’t sure. It was an odd response. If anyone would be able to leave someone guessing at her emotions, it was the Banshee.

Jes had his own secrets, important ones, the sort that could reshape how the Shal’dorei leadership of the pre-Legion era was remembered, but even so, he felt more open with his emotions than the lovely performer ever was. Nahilvi remained an enigma. No matter how long he watched her, listened to her, tried to read between the notes, she was never someone he could figure out. He might have texted her directly about Sin’dorei funerary customs, but she was likely overwhelmed already. And he did not know if Irenthalas had told her that he had been invited at all.

Reaching into his jacket sleeve, he tugged his shirt cuff down until the sapphire cufflink winked in the light, then repeated the motion on the other side. A deep blue suit, pristine white shirt, and grey tie would have to suffice.

Using the coordinates Iren had sent, Jes adjusted a portal near and stepped through. His polished black shoes landed quietly on a walkway of crushed shells. Ahead, people gathered along the path, and he fell in step behind a couple walking toward the house, yellow and red roses cradled in the woman’s arms. Ah. People brought flowers to these funerals. Too late now. Besides, he had known the deceased only through her husband’s fond recollections over long lunches.

Nahilvi’s violet gaze landed on him as she greeted others. Confusion crossed her features, followed swiftly by anger, quickly masked beneath a warm, welcoming smile, as she thanked the woman before him for the flowers and asked if she would lay upon the coffin.

Jes barely heard the exchange. His attention lingered on Nahi herself. There were shadows beneath her eyes. Charcoal grey was not her color, though the gold and red accents she wore made her look like the inside of a jeweler’s display case. He wondered if she had eaten. If she looked thinner. It was difficult to tell, and he was far too wise to comment on such things even if he knew.

When it was his turn, he caught the stubborn tilt of her chin, the one that always preceded frustration with something he had said or done. Irenthalas stepped forward, and Jes turned from the near glare Nahi fixed upon him to clasp the man’s hand.

“Thank you for coming, Viscount,” Iren said. He rarely used Jes’s rank, but today he kept things formal. When Iren looked back to Nahi, Jes saw a flash of understanding and she dipped her chin in a greeting, Nahi’s eyes found Jes’s silver gaze, and her smile warmed. Even drawn with grief and sleeplessness, he was pulled in by her. “Jes. Thank you for coming. I’m glad you’re here to support Iren.”

Nahilvi drew in a steadying breath as she set her focus on the people that arrived behind him. An older Sin’dorei man approached, accompanied by a younger woman whose pinched expression suggested she had swallowed something unpleasant. The woman stared daggers at Nahi. There was an expression on her face that made him  want to pull her free from whoever stood behind him. He would have, if she wanted that. But he knew she didn’t. 

“I’m glad to be here for you both,” he said. This was not a day for anything but quiet presence. Still, he would not let her believe for a moment that he did not care about her grief as well.

Iren guided him past Nahi, leaving her to greet the newcomers. Jes watched carefully. The normally loquacious beauty offered only a short, polite greeting before stepping aside to let them approach the plot as they wished. There was a resemblance between the older man and Nahi, subtle but unmistakable. Another man approached her, murmuring something low. She placed a calming hand on his arm. He rubbed one hand over the other, fingers pausing at the faint indentation where a ring had once been worn long enough to mark the flesh. He, too, shared Nahi’s features.

At last, Nahi moved to tuckher arm through Iren’s and murmured that it was time. The four moved to the grave’s edge. A blonde woman took Nahi’s free hand and squeezed gently.

There were not many in attendance. Most formed lines along either side of the coffin. Jes positioned himself behind Iren and Nahi, where he could watch, where he could protect, whether or not it was needed. His attention did not linger on the casket, instead he watched those who attended. 

Most of the mourners were openly moved. The final two arrivals were not. Years of navigating social arenas had sharpened Jes’s eye; he could tell immediately that they felt nothing for Nahilvi’s mother’s passing. The woman stared openly at Nahi and then the man  ahi had calmed. The older man surveyed the grounds when he could, appraising, or else his gaze rested on Nahi, cold and measuring.

When Nahi stepped forward to sing, all attention settled upon her. From the first note, Jes was lost. The song itself was beautiful, but it was the emotion threaded through it that captured him. He could not say what happened among the others; he could not tear his eyes from her. He had always enjoyed her performances, but this, this was different. This was a masterpiece of a song, sung with a voice filled with.

When the final note faded into the breeze, no one moved. Silence held, reverent and fragile, unwilling to intrude upon what she had given them. Jes did not fully return to himself until they reached the patio.

Iren spoke with a physician he had once worked alongside, who he had introduced Jes to. Nahi made polite conversation with those who approached her but she was not his focus. Jes lifted his drink and watched the oddly acting pair  over the rim of his glass. The man remained calm, eyes roaming the estate and gardens. The woman kept her attention fixed on the man Nahi had soothed earlier.

Without knowing who was who, Jes observed and prepared to act if it was needed. Eventually, the woman crossed the patio and confronted the man who was her focus. Their argument grew heated, voices rising. When Nahi’s name carried across the space, Jes’s attention shifted to her.

To her credit, she ignored it entirely, turning instead to speak with another guest before moving with them toward the buffet.

The older man intervened, diffusing the confrontation. The arguing pair departed shortly after. The man she had confronted stormed off around the manor house, which appeared far more neglected than Jes would have expected of a noble estate. There was a story there. Likely several.

As the gathering dispersed, Jes made his way home, wisps of curiosity weaving through his mind. There were pieces yet uncovered, threads that might, if followed, draw him closer to the delightful, elusive Banshee at the center of it all.

(Mentions of @nahisummerhold)

🔥

"Nahilvi is quite a lovely woman, I think. I do not know her as well as I might like to, but she certainly seems rather sweet and endearing. She is warm and welcoming. Very friendly with everyone. I think I admire most her ability to draw others to her and to so effortlessly make friends. She has that kind of personality. If I were to pin down what exactly it is about her that accomplishes such a thing, I would not be able to. Perhaps it is that she is a fair bit mysterious. For all that I feel I know about her—her studies, her home renovations, her appreciation for tiramisu—I find that I know really nothing more. Perhaps it is the mystery, the illusion of knowledge and not having any real knowledge, is the draw...!"

—-—-—

"We get each other. At least, I think we do. Nahi's full of life. I'm really drawn to people like that. Obvious reasons, I guess. If I'm not full of it and if I can only act like I am, then it makes sense for me to be around people who are like that. I... think I have a crush on her? Don't know if that's possible. She's cute, though. She's got this great zest for life. Doesn't seem to care very much what anyone thinks of her. I feel like we're on the same level. And I feel like she gets me. Even though I'm gonna guess I don't really share much of myself with her."

As Magister Palecrown took to the fighting ring Hoovanil watched him, the man was absolutely ruthless, it was what built their friendship on. Palecrown looked for opponents with enough skill to make him look good, but never beat him. Hoovanil’s only experience fighting had been in these confines, a world of dulled blades and padded tips. It was nothing compared to those who had actually taken the field in conflict like Palecrown had. Hovanil was solid with a bit of flash that he learned in his days of fighting those worse that him, it made him the perfect opponent for the magister. Allies had been made in lesser ways. 

The fights today were no different, Palecrown won, Hoovanil would have a number of bruises, but he would make it look like it was a fairly even match. With a salute they both went to the side of the ring where others would not hear them. “So it is going well? I know that serving the papers had a big impact.” He didn’t say he knew because his son had stormed into Hovanil’s fiancée’s manor demanding to talk to him. When they were situated in his den, Hamdil took him to task and threatened to expose him. Hoovanil had claimed it had nothing to do with him and acted surprised at the news, which wasn’t believed but the threat of his secrets coming to light made him nervous, he would have to get that smoothed over, hopefully before this legal machination was handled. 

He did not plan on even being at the court proceedings for that very reason. None of this could be linked to him. He and Palecrown were opponents in the ring, but not thought of as friends or acquaintances outside of the club. 

“You didn’t tell me that she would be so prepared, was she tipped off in any way?” Palecrown sneered at him. 

Hoovanil thought for a moment, only Banictusia had known of the plan, and then only in general. She cared little for the method, only the result, and currently the result was not that pleasing to her, but she would be loyal to him to the end. “No, no one could have warned her, and as good of a performer as she is, the surprise was real.” 

The magister looked him over, as if he would pull out his soul if this didn’t work in his favor. “She has retained some of the best lawyers in the city, and my office has been buried under a mountain of paperwork that has been filed with the courts in her defense.”

“She has proof of her birthright?” That was impossible, even if someone had made the same claim against his children, it would be hard to prove it. Just like with Nahilvi, most of the records were lost with the Scourge attack, and his family had never  been concerned about filing things with the court system.

The other man began to stretch. “No, they are all financial records. We are having to wade through inventories and deeds, banking records and legal documents about her mother. If her mother was not dead we would never have a shot at this at all.”

Hoovanil had assumed that, he had flipped through the things she had brought with her when Nahilvi first returned with her declarations about her and her mother’s presence, and how she would kick them out if they didn’t comply. He never thought that she would really do it. Banictusia just had to know why Nahi didn’t want her mother bothered and kept making attempts to get them inside the Dowager’s House, couldn’t leave well enough alone. “A good thing she is dead then.”

He had been making inroads at getting his debts settled before the losses to the estate would be noticed after she came back. His niece’s anger at their refusal to honor her wishes, had been swift and harsh. 

He couldn’t believe she would even kick out Hamdil and his children, the cousins had always been close, maybe too close when they were young. It was part of how Banictusia had become so dedicated to Hoovanil, she was always jealous of Nahilvi and Hamdil together, but was no proof anything improper went on with the two, unlike he and his daughter-in-law. 

“I had no idea. She always seemed out of touch with anything but her own needs.” Had she really changed that much since her spoiled behavior as a young woman? He figured that she had become like her mother, not caring about much but her own pleasure. “In fact, with the request to keep her mother sequestered when they came back from Dalaran, I thought that she was stealing from the Diva and needed her silenced.”

Palecrown threw him a filthy look. “These attorneys of hers are sharks, they will tear apart any weakness. Make sure your witness is ready, and there better not be any others out there to speak for her or we will lose for sure.”

He had given the star witness just enough inspiration for their appearance, and they would never betray him. A deep sense of right and wrong made a zealot, even if it was for a poor cause. 

There weren’t any that would, or could, testify differently. The only loose end would be if his brother came back from the dead, which Nahilvi herself had verified that he couldn’t. That was something he had doubled checked through, his brother was truly lost with so many others that had followed their Prince. “I will make sure everything is in order with the witness. Will the date be delayed?”

“No, it seems they are not looking to drag this out.” Palcrown sighed, “That is a good sign, it gives them less time to find witnesses, but it also gives my office less time to go through all the documents. Hopefully, this will be cut and dried once we get to the courts.” 

Hoovanil took a breath and nodded to his friend, “Good, see you next week?”

The Magister looked around the club, “No, better to not be seen together until after we win.” Gold eyes fixed back on him, “And we better win, a loss like this will look bad for me.”

He nodded at the man and then threw one of his gloves to the ground looking like he was mad about the match and stormed off. Look bad for him? This would be devastating to his family if it went wrong. The magister was right, this better not go wrong.

The Banshee’s Wail

TW: Dementia, infidelity, violence

A woman’s voice screeched through Nahilvi’s comm, hidden under her hair, you could hide an entire engineering shop there with as full as the ombré curls were. “You PERVERT! You stay away from me! My daughter will be home any minute!”

It was the last day of the Hearts Of Tenacity fest and Nahi was kicked back around the fire sharing snacks with Pheonix, a woman she just met, while wearing her jeans, boots and Starstriders tee. One last night of freedom, then she would go back to the chaos of her family life, that was all she had been hoping for, one last night.

Scrambling to her feet, she apologized to the people around her who could hear the screaming, it had been so loud, and ran away from the circle. She stopped behind a tree and clicked the small device. “Mother… what in the Fel is going on?”

“There is a MAN here who tried to climb into my bed.”

Before she could respond another voice came from the shared family channel. “Hey Nahi, sorry, she has been so good all weekend.”

The singer ran three fingers up the center of her forehead then down to the bridge of her nose and kept her voice calm, “Mother… that is your husband Irenthalas. You have been married for years now.”

“No! I don’t KNOW him.” The pitch of the wail was so high only a trained singer could project it. Her mother had been an opera singer for hundreds of years, she had perfected it.

Well there went the last night of the festival and she hadn’t even been able to say goodbye to the new people she met. “I will be there in a minute, Iren.” It would do no good to address her mother, she was in one of her lapses. The dark skinned performer reached into her pack and pulled out her hearthstone, setting it for their home in Dalaran.

In the time it had taken for that simple action, Nahi could hear something shatter upstairs. The stairs were traversed three at a time with her long strides and she slid into the doorway to take in the chaos. Irenthalas was on the floor, blood streaming from his head, there was shattered porcelain in a blue and white pattern around him and her mother was lifting a lamp like she was going to throw it. “Mother stop!”

“Call the guards! Where is the one posted at my door? Our Prince would never leave me unguarded! Did this man kill him?”

Alright, this was one of her bad episodes. Nahilvi’s mother had been a singer in Kael’thas’ court for a long time, one of the favored entertainers that only performed in the main throne room. When the keep was attacked, she had fallen after taking a blow to the head. Nahi had picked up a sword to protect them but luckily the invader’s were focused on Prince Sunstrider by that time and it had allowed Irenthalas to get to them.

He had secretly been infatuated with Acenadalia for decades, but he was a lowly priest and her mother was married to Viscount Preado Sunburst, the ennobled bastard that her mother had found in her dressing room getting head from two of the Summershade triplets while suckling the third’s breast. Of course that wasn’t the first time he had been caught with his pants down, but it had been the latest.

Iren had helped get them clear before the keep was locked down completely, taking the women to his familial home in Dalaran. He treated her mother but the damage that had been done had left her permanently impaired. She had taken a glancing blow to the temple from an invader’s mace, the skull fracture and cuts healed well, but when Acenadalia woke it was clear she was not in her right mind.After it was clear that Nahi’s father had not made it out, Iren and her mother were wed.

With more work the lucid times outweighed the spells when her memory lapsed, but her mother had to be watched all the time. The last time she had not she walked right into the Alliance alcove in the city and demanded that she be taken to Kael’thas immediately along with no few ‘don’t you know who I am’s’ thrown in for good measure,

“Iren?” Nahilvi questioned while keeping an eye on her mother as sometimes she wasn’t recognized either.

The man’s deep voice sounded exhausted, “I’m alright, she just threw a teapot at my head. I never liked that set anyway.”

“Wasn’t that your grandmother twice removed’s set?”

“Yes, but family lore said she was a harridan.”

Nahi wanted to laugh but was expecting a lamp to be hurled at her or her step-father at any moment. “Mother, it is alright I am here now.”

“He crawled into my BED!”

The shrillness of her mother’s voice caused daggers of pain to embed themselves in Nahi’s head, “I am here now, you are safe, put down the lamp.”

“MY BED!”

“MOTHER!” Nahilvi yelled, she hated doing that most of all, “I am here, we will get everything sorted, put down the lamp.

Acenadalia’s gold eyes snapped to her daughter and narrowed, then they opened wide, “Nahi? When did you get home? Did you enjoy your festival? Did they like my song? I bet they did, you have such a lovely voice. Iren? Why are you on the floor? Did you fall?” She set the lamp back down and crawled into her huge bed, “Come to bed dear, I am sure our daughter would like a bath and settle in for the night.”

Just like that, all the drama ended and they were all one big happy family again. Her mother hadn’t been wrong, she did want a bath and bed, but that bath was going to be accompanied by a bottle of brandy. “Sleep well mother, Iren. I love you.”

The Midnight Mercenaries, Prompt 1

The more Nahi worked with the healers the more setting up for injuries became ingrained in her, allowing her to work smoothly with the others. It was becoming a well rehearsed dance, one that involved many of them coming together so they could best prepare for something that one could never truly prepare for. You just never knew what the fighting would bring to them. Her eyes snapped to the path cutting through the magic shield as the first injured came through. She moved with the others, helping guide them down, hands already reaching, already working. They looked skewered, torn through, and carried a thick, earthy smell, like mulch clinging to their skin. How was that even possible? What was in there? More injured poured in, some on their own, others carried. Too many. Nahi’s gaze swept over them, her stomach tightening. Many weren’t fighters. They looked like civilians, an older man with blood soaking through his clothes, his steps unsteady as someone tried to keep him upright. Were they from the town? 

She shifted from tending the wounded to preparing for them, laying out pads and blankets as quickly as she could. If this was only the first wave, they were going to need far more space. It didn’t register at first when she saw the flowers sprouting from a woman’s hand. They’d been treating wounds from the plants all day. Around her, the injured spoke of the town breaking apart, of people still alive as the plants took them. It wasn’t until she saw the woman’s skin shift, something moving beneath it, that it clicked. Then more flowers burst through her arm, splitting flesh as they spread.

Nahi stumbled back. All around her, bodies twisted, changed. becoming more vegetation than human.One of the priests called on the Light, trying to drive them back. But the instant it touched one of the shambling forms, its mouth gaped open and stalks erupted faster, spilling outward. 

“Stop using Light magic!”

Nahi didn’t know who shouted it, but she saw Nara already moving, sprinting for her weapons.metal flashed as she turned back into the fray, sword cut down one of the half-formed creatures before it could rise, then drove it back, keeping it away from the healers. As they tried to group to defend themselves. The horror around her locked her in place. Nahi wasn’t one to panic easily, but this… This was worse than anything she’d faced before. A memory surged unbidden, people talking about the shambling dead that had ravaged Eversong not so long ago. 

A scream cut through the haze. She turned. Roots lashed out from one of the creatures, coiling around a nearby victim and dragging them into an atrocious embrace. Her hand flew to her mouth as she stepped back, eyes glued to the horror.

Out of the corner of her vision, another slow-moving being crept through the fight toward one of the company’s druids, still focused on a man who wasn’t rising like the others. As her magic began to weave over him, it was siphoned away into the creature with a horrifying inhale. It swelled, twisting and stretching until it resembled a monstrous treeant. Branches clawed outward like a starving person desperate for a scrap of food. A lightning strike sparked into a handful of the shamblers, catching them on fire, a gust of wind followed and the creatures were forced back around the center of the healers. Then more fire began popping up around them as arrows rained down on the beings, who began to trip and fall into things. A cot at Nahi’s side began to burn and she turned to see a face formed of petals in a bud that had yet to blossom moving in towards her. Instinct overcame her, she screamed and ran… The healer’s carefully arranged space? Obliterated. She had no clue where she was, so she bolted toward the closest gap in the tents. Debris and roots threatened to trip her at every step, but she darted through it, dodging gracefully like the lifelong dancer she was.

People came into focus. Kai was flinging ice at the leafy monsters but where was everyone else? She glanced back. The plant creature had not given up on chasing her. Not wanting it to grab her friend like the others were doing, she dove sideways, barely avoiding a tent that erupted into flame. 

And then… her foot hit ice. She slipped, flailed like a new born chick out of an egg, and landed in what should have been a graceful roll, but instead, she ended up tangled in a mountain of green canvas, tumbling headfirst into a pile of… pillows? Soft, sure, but really?

Pulling at the canvas only made it worse. Trying to stand she slammed her knee into something unhelpfully solid and just tangled herself more when she fell and tried to crawl through the fabric that had caught on fire that was spreading behind her. She clawed herself free and stood just to receive a face full of water from someone trying to douse the tent. 

Everywhere, the camp was burning. Somewhere, monsters were still vegetating. And here she was looking like a drowned rat standing in the middle of total chaos.

(( Danced to this SONG <<--- click there! ))

The music begins with the sound of two heartbeats, then an explosion erupts at the side of the stage and Nahilvi runs in. Turning, she backs away tripping over her own feet as another burst of fire strikes the edge of the stage where she has just entered. The flames seem to pursue her, each retreating step more desperate than the last as the pounding heartbeats echo through the air.

Fire licks across the ground. Leaping up, she twists through the air in a series of fluid jumps, landing lightly on the other side of the stage. Her arm sweeps in front of her and her head shakes, a curve along her spine as she rises onto her toes. She spins away as embers dance at her feet, scattering with each turn. Fear leaves her violet eyes wide, her head making small, frantic shakes as though denying the inevitable.

Nahi’s head whips around, her body following in a spiral, one leg curving through the motion, and a graceful spin begins then becomes faster. Throwing her hands out, she tips like a child's top beginning to teeter, slowing her. One foot steps forward, but her body is drawn back as more fire slams into the ground. In a moment of desperation, she dives forward, her body seeming to float for a heartbeat before she tucks and rolls across the stage. 

Her movements become staccato, the smooth flow of the dance breaking apart as her shoulders jerk forward with a cough. Limping backward, each step looks like it is draining her strength. Every time her foot lands heavily on the ground, her body sinks lower, resistance giving way to exhaustion. Finally, she collapses to her knees, her head thrown back, mouth open in a silent scream as fire and smoke swirl around her.

The flames go out, leaving her kneeling alone, hands covering her face with her clothes burned to a dull grey. Blinking, she slowly looks around. Ash coats the stage around her. Running a hand through it, she lets the dust slip between her fingers before lifting it in front of her face. Leaning forward, she reaches out searching through the ashes for anything that remains, a horrified gaze taking in the destruction.

Rocking back, she throws her weight behind her, one hand extending into the air before she plants both palms down. Her legs lift off the stage twisting at her hips before she slams down onto her back. Nahilvi comes to an abrupt stop, everything in her tightening  before she explodes up, body nearly lifting from the stage, her hands flung to the sky. She holds there, suspended, as if beseeching a power beyond her reach for salvation.

Collapsing, her body curls into a ball on her side, agony tearing through her and making her tremble. Soft gasps escape as she feels her spirit being pulled away. Her head tilts up, tears streaking down her cheeks. A glow rises behind her, and a woman’s form in flame lifts from the darkness, floating forward looking at body on the ground before her.

The woman lowers, leaning over the dancer’s body, whispering softly, tracing her hand over the body that is just holding on then fades away. Slowly, Nahi rises, the movement jerky at first before becoming fluid as she is drawn upward. Her toes drag along the ash until she rises above the ground, hanging suspended in the air. Her burned clothes are gone, replaced by a simple red robe that settles around her, placed by unseen hands.

Gently lowering back to the ground, she lies on her back, chest rising and falling. Five small fires light in a curve nearby, and she rolls toward them, extending her hands forward, then quickly pulled back, the flames moving with her. The movement draws the flames higher, the warmth of the air coaxing them high into the night, arcs of light trace above her as she guides them with growing control.

Spreading her hands out, splitting the fan in two. Balancing onto her shoulders, her back arching deeply, the lowered fans brought back up over her body, the warmth of them picking up the sheen on her skin, then the motions repeated, the flames teaching her how to breathe again. 

Settling to the ground, the Sin’dorei swings her legs overhead, momentum carrying her up to her knees, hands raised in worship. The heartbeat of the music begins again and she leans forward, laying the fans out before her, Nahi sways to the side and back, each time trying to push them further away from her, a hint of the fear returning to her eyes.

The sway becomes faster, the flames cutting in larger patterns as she picks them up, the stage in front of her looking like it is on fire. Rising up, a wide circle drawn in the air around her. Shifting the fans, they begin to cross in front of her, trapping her in a cage of fire before she rises to her feet and spins away.  Spreading her arms out, she spins the fans on her fingers, the circles becoming wheels of fire that cut through the night. Nahi begins a slow turn, the fans tracing wave-like patterns through the air. The motion gathers speed with her until the light blurs together, forming two full circles, her body at the center of the spinning fire as the pattern tightens and steadies.

The fans slow and she extends them outward, her legs pushing off into jumps that carry her gracefully across the stage, reminiscent of the sparks that had chased her. Landing at the front, all movement stops. Looking out over the audience, composed and radiant, the fires picking up glints of gold in the robe, and the sheen of sweat on her skin.

The music calls Nahilvi back to her dance, the fans tracing patterns across and around her. Every movement is lyrical, the fans swirling in a circle before her follow one another, her hands shift to draw unending waves. The destructive fire that once drove her across the stage has vanished completely, replaced by an entrancing beauty.

She sweeps the fans open and shut in front of her, drawing blazing arcs across the darkness. Trails of gold and orange linger in the air after each pass, weaving into patterned wings unfurling behind her, whispering to her, telling her of how one day she will soar.

Coming up onto the toes of one foot, she spins, her robe blossoming in crimson and gold, the warmth of new passion on display. Nahi moves across the stage, the circles of fire widening with each rotation until they encompass nearly the entire space. Slowing, she gathers the flames back toward her with measured control as the light tightens around her athletic form.

Twisting the the side she turns the fires in a circle, leaning back the flames lick their way along her body. Nahi’s braid sways, the ribbons mimicking fire reaching up from the ground beneath her. Rising, she pulls the fires in against her body, letting them flow front to back around her, their heat becoming a part of her, no longer feared, embraced. Drawing them up to her neck she turns making a wide collar, a smile and the bright violet of her eyes flashing with a heated intensity. Raising her hands in front of her face, opening one fan to the side, then snapping them shut. Tracing her hands down her body, the flames catching the golden threads on fire racing their way up setting the entire robe aflame. The air around her heats, fire shooting high into the air surrounding her, her expression blissful as she waits for it to claim her. When it comes together, a huge explosion slams directly into her. As the fires fade away Nahi floats, wearing the face of the Goddess, an ascension that burned through fear, doubt and time for her to claim her true place.