VILLANELLE
Villanelle cannot say that she is a kind woman.
Quiet, yes. Thoughtful, sure.
But kind? Absolutely not.
Even growing up with a devoted and loving mother had its pitfalls. Sochi is fierce, powerful, and a wonderful parent - but that ferocity she carries so easily was only destined to be passed on to her striking daughter.
And her father? He taught her all kinds of things. And while Castile loved her - still loves her - Nell learned far too much of cruelty and violence from him. It shaped her, that fury and flame. Now she is molten hot, the kind of glimmering blue of a fire too hot to come close enough to extinguish.
Volcanic is the term the near-feral woman has found for herself. She is the blood of dragons, the princess of a fire-breather, birthed of the fierce black and orange of tigers. "Volcanic," she whispers suddenly to herself -
And tonight she is ready to explode.
When she finds the behemoth, towering and certain in the way of Victorian castles, Nell's initial reaction is merely to pause and watch him with interested, near-hungry eyes.
"Hello," the woman eventually settles on, considering her words carefully and deciding this one won't like a flashy greeting. "You look irritated," Nell adds in a curious whisper.
@[morrowind]