07-04-2021, 11:10 PM
She was not quite what you would call refined
She can't know how close she is to death, not really, even knowing that she flirts with disaster isn't quite the same, but her manner is excited, nearly giddy, because she loves to show off and this strange shifter is an appreciative audience. His curiousity is met with more of the same. The lightning does as she tells it to do, it goes where she directs, except when she sets it free and it goes wild.
Even then, it most often blasts itself open against her.
"I can be distracting," Popinjay remarks, light blossoming around her again. This is harder, more technical than a simple platform (and an utter waste of the magic, some might say,) but she breaks bits away until there is a small flock of flickering white birds that pulse around her, yearning to melt against her skin, to stream down and find the dark peace of an earthy grave. Her tongue is pressed hard against the roof of her mouth, the skin around her eyes furrowed as she watches them.
"And my aim is excellent," she says, dark eyes full of reflections when they flick back to the sea monster lurking in the lake and the flock surges toward him. Instead of birdsong, the flock fills the air with buzzing and hissing, swooping low over the water, barreling over him like acrobatic swallows chasing flies. Just one, she thinks, Just one shouldn't hurt him much. Sweat blooms on her neck. At his withers, an electric bird lands lightly, emitting an excited crackling from its open beak.
It's a strain to juggle so many, so she calls them to her again, all but the one she's set upon his back, forcing it to keep its shape and chase the blue lightning snaking over his skin. The others race back to her like ducklings, flaring brightly when they strike, and when she moves away, four blackened hoofmarks remain where she'd been.
"It's easier, with just bolts, but it doesn't look as cool."
Even then, it most often blasts itself open against her.
"I can be distracting," Popinjay remarks, light blossoming around her again. This is harder, more technical than a simple platform (and an utter waste of the magic, some might say,) but she breaks bits away until there is a small flock of flickering white birds that pulse around her, yearning to melt against her skin, to stream down and find the dark peace of an earthy grave. Her tongue is pressed hard against the roof of her mouth, the skin around her eyes furrowed as she watches them.
"And my aim is excellent," she says, dark eyes full of reflections when they flick back to the sea monster lurking in the lake and the flock surges toward him. Instead of birdsong, the flock fills the air with buzzing and hissing, swooping low over the water, barreling over him like acrobatic swallows chasing flies. Just one, she thinks, Just one shouldn't hurt him much. Sweat blooms on her neck. At his withers, an electric bird lands lightly, emitting an excited crackling from its open beak.
It's a strain to juggle so many, so she calls them to her again, all but the one she's set upon his back, forcing it to keep its shape and chase the blue lightning snaking over his skin. The others race back to her like ducklings, flaring brightly when they strike, and when she moves away, four blackened hoofmarks remain where she'd been.
"It's easier, with just bolts, but it doesn't look as cool."
@Gale
