The shadows deepen as Aysel and Jude stand in stoic balance: each drawn to the other in their own irreversible ways. The paradise of Tephra holds their warm hearts in its Amazonian hands, nurturing their attraction just as it nurtures all its wild things. Magnus, Aysel, Jude . . . all running parallel with their volcanic kingdom beneath, their paths crossing here and there as pages of their lives turn: the two fierce women finally intertwining, just as Tephra seemed to predict - Jude like the ivy and Aysel like the tree she climbs.
There is a melancholy that the pegasus senses, though she is not sure if it is Aysel or the universe mourning their time wasted apart. Jude cocks her head, coy yet intuitive, ears swiveling back and forth as she processes the environment that washes over her. She is the same as she always has been: sly, serpentine - her soft underbelly exposed to those that need it (or deserve it) - her duality (beautiful, detrimental, intoxicating). The tickling of the tall grass relaxes her; the chirping of the insects delights her; the company of Aysel dulls her sharp edges, turning her from sword to shield.
Jude glows beneath the Warbringer’s words, a pleased flush lost on her color warming her ballerina features. There is an uncontrollable flutter of her wings in response, the feathers soft as they whisper against each other. Jude tucks them tight against her sides, tense in the anxious silence before the Amazon’s next words.
The Jaguar’s response is eloquent and somber, seemingly a crumbling dam to a flooding body of water. Aysel looks away, studying everything around them, and Jude thinks: Is she looking for something? Though her curiosity is once again piqued, she remains quiet and fidgety to allow her companion to continue speaking. When she is done a bitter smile curls the pegasus’ mouth upward, contorting her face in rue - the sharp lines and angles of her lineage making her mood appear harsher than it is. “Flourishing” is not the word she would use; the unpleasant flavor of motherhood floods her mouth. Most days her love for her children is greater than the sourness of unwanted responsibility; but now, looking upon the strength and wisdom of Aysel, Jude is reminded of the life she put on hold (how terribly unaware she is of the power motherhood will bring her). Still, the draw of the Amazon is stronger than her own selfish restraints, and the pink woman is once again enraptured by her counterpart’s solemn air.
Jude has always been organic in her own way, unable to resist her desires. She is struck with the need to press close to the Jaguar, allowing it to flood her senses in its entirety. Aysel speaks of comfort but the pegasus has not truly felt peace since the plague and the responsibility of her children: there may be comfort in soothing the sorrow that creeps amongst them. Its source is a mystery but she still needs to be rid of it.
“I’m not suited to motherhood - at least not in the sense Magnus and I have - so I would not call this thriving, but,” here she pauses, looking up at Aysel through thick and fluttering lashes, “Tephra seems to keep offering me surprises.” Jude does not smirk but her eyes gleam dangerously as they slowly trace each of the Amazon’s impressive muscles - perhaps suggestive, but mostly hungry; she is hungry to swallow the sorrow in whatever way possible.
“Here . . .” she whispers, turning her body so that she stands parallel to the other, not hesitant but slow enough for Aysel to resist if she wishes. Jude presses her side into the roan’s sturdy frame; first her stomach, then her nose, nuzzling the sensitive skin of her neck - if she would allow it.
“Tephra is solemn tonight,” she murmurs, forgetting Aysel’s kind words - not caring that her actions (her spoiled desires) are uncouth.
@[Aysel]