@seizedeath gets a starter.
Once upon a time, the storm used to comfort her. There would be nights where she would sit under the pouring rain, tilt her head back, and revel in the feeling of raindrops on her face. Zuala used to chide her about how she'd catch her death out, doing such a thing. How could she be blamed, though? It had always felt like something was calling her...
Maybe this fate was the elusive whisper in the air. The god's lip curls at the thought as she soars through the tumultuous atmosphere. A gaggle of shades flit around her skeletal wings as she leads them to their final resting place: her new, foreboding domain.
A clap of thunder announces the god of death's arrival. As the ivory doors slam open, Yasha surveys the foyer -- and pauses at the sight of someone unfamiliar. Someone smaller than she, and incredibly blue, with flowers in her hair.
Shades flee into the corners of the room as Yasha tilts her head. She says nothing, but fixes the other with a questioning, silent look.

















