are you ready for a perfect storm? any. {M}

[Reagan]

so you want to play with magic?
you should know what you're falling for.

There was a silent thrumming that took over her body. The warmth that blew through her blood pricked her skin like a sixth sense. She can feel him coming, squeezing her eyes closed with lingering emotion. They were two strangers who shared a daughter. A link that they had never even known that they’d had. No reason to ever suspect it, no reason to ever explore it. She barely knew him, but when the warm tones of his voice washes over her, Reagan finds she is relieved.

And yet, when Reagan’s world began spinning out of control, she felt her magic slipping away, taking over her body, she was anything but relieved. Her tarnished crown had tipped the scales, and when it fell toward the earth and splintered her body and soul, there was nothing left to explore. No wishes to make her children choose. She breathed in deep, and had turned away, allowing peace to her forest—at the expense of her soul.

Looking back bitterly, the Grey Lady wondered what the point of it all had been. She was no closer to the Taiga than she had been. Only the rejuvenated relationship with her daughter allowed her to continue… to find footing in a ground that would surely take pleasure in seeing the Taigan queen fall.

And fall from grace she eventually did. Swallowed up into the embrace of Hell’s dark fire, she sees clarity. She was never capable of being something other than what she was. And what she was, was a woman who craved power. Who liked to throw dice against the odds. She would gamble her life with everything she had… never again would she allow the stack to be against her.

She focused her eyes crisp and clear on the opposing shoreline, the shadows of ghosts and memories fading in between the trees. Happiness that would never be hers. A life gone. The moon shadow that casts its faint glow is one that she is long familiar with, and when he makes his approach, her body warms. A low iridescent glow that plays underneath the vibrating color of her pelt. There are no answers hidden in the river, if that is what you seek. I’ve looked. She smiles at his sardonic remark, but she says nothing, not sure just how much his words are intended for humor, and once more, she is grateful for his presence. The breeze is blowing through her hair, and though she settles, she does not turn to face him.

Reagan hoped that Jinju would continue to pursue a relationship with her birth father, and she found that she could always be grateful to the obsidian stallion for giving the fiery princess to the wayward magician. The only reason why Reagan was still standing here with any sense of sanity. The love a daughter—one that could not be replaced. Thinking of Enfys, her guilt balls up in her throat, but the woman is still recovering. Still finding her footing. One day she would return.

But not yet.

Reagan straightens out her posture and turns to face Offspring, a cool resting look of hardness settling on her face as she tries to make out the details of his muscled body in the dark. The angles of his face. All that stands out against the moon is the red of his eyes, and the fiery brimstone that lay just barely buried underneath his skin. He was a man almost as old as she was—Two beings embittered with pain, and disappointment.

The sting of immortality.

He speaks again, his eyes noting the curve of her body and the color of her skin. Thankful for the dark, and her magic, she is able to hide her embarrassment, and put in its place the serenity of the moment. She smiles openly this time, leaving the hard twinkle in her eyes—the soft glow of her body.

Her effervescent mask.

“If the river does not answer your questions, then it is because you not ask the right questions.” Reagan tips her head downward, the zephyr catching her tangled mane and throwing it away from her face. She looks down at her body, looking over her back and glimpsing the glow. Flipping her tail, she looks back at him. “And yes, the disco-tek is over. I’m afraid that when one is given too much power, it tends to stick its ugly little head up in places it does not belong. If you do not control it… it will invariably control you.” She scoffs, and then takes another step towards him, showing the curve of her shoulder to its best advantage flirtatiously, eyes bright with ironic laughter. Sarcasm bleeds over her words, laying it thick and making it obvious that she is just trying to have a laugh.

It has been so long since she has laughed. Or felt this at peace with herself. “The antlers are gone, but I could make them reappear again, if you think it makes me cuter. Or a lion tale… A giraffe’s neck. I would appear darling, don’t you think so?”

Reagan