[ She is a stern teacher, she is sure of that, and she will not be kind nor gentle. She will force the teaching, force the lessons upon her with hard and steel words and force. Blood is power, blood is strength, and it cannot be done so easily by someone kind and soft. You must harden yourself, she thinks, be steel and iron where there is room for you to bend, and that is the lesson Elizabeth must learn. She is too kind, too sweet, and Lauralae must see that banished.
It is almost a shame to hear it, to let it be so.
The idle flattery, however, is not welcome, and she shakes her head. Let Elizabeth regard her for what she knows, not what she assumes. ]
Much to admire and much to learn from, I think.
[ Her lips curl into something dark, a little dangerous, and she lifts her arms. Her robe is long, covering her forearm and longer, but she draws them back. Her gloves cover only her hands, revealing her forearms - covered in scars, long thing marks, from knife and nail both, baring her power without shame.
Elizabeth is unmarred, beautiful in her pale skin. Lauralae wishes to see her marked for her trouble, to see her blood drip. ]
You will show me your power. Draw upon your shard, upon your latent magic, to show me your strength. Show me what is at your disposal and I shall show you how to draw your blood to the surface, to stretch out your gifts.
[ She smirks. ]
Then you will teach me your magic. A trade of power, our true passion.
( So, Lauralae would have her be more like her mother? The thought would frighten her as nothing else ever could. Precisely because it would be so very easy to take that step, to shed all goodness and light left in her to be a dark, vengeful thing. But her father could be dark and vengeful, too. He had drowned his own brother in a barrel of wine, had he not? And slain Warwick by his own hands. Edward could never have been mistaken for a soft nor easy man, simply because he had been so within the circle of his family.
She releases a deep exhale, and nods once, a slow incline of her head. )
Of that I have no doubt.
( There is something about the look which comes over Lauralae's face now which beckons her, a dark, thrilling allure, similar to what she had felt on the eve of Samhain. Only deeper. She looks upon those scars without flinching, finding a terrible sort of beauty in them. A ferocity which kindles fire in her, as her eyes meet those of her mentor, and hold, bright with intensity and with no intention of looking away.
She is not afraid. Indeed, she shifts to stand straighter before her, and focuses, feeling, sensing, living in the water all around her. Deep in her chest, something seethes with warmth. It is new, but again, not frightening. Elizabeth breathes in, breathes out, and clouds roll in overhead. A clap of thunder can be heard, rolling, dull and yet dangerous in the distance. And then, the heavens open, and rain pours from the sky. Just overhead, and not over a large swath of land, but she is improving. Already, she has surpassed the little her mother had taught her. )
I accept. ( Her smile now twists a little, showing another side of her, darker, bolder. ) And if it is passion you desire, you need only ask, my lady.
( Another clap of thunder, and she broadens her smile. ) It will be my pleasure.
[ Lauralae would have her be powerful; she values strength in others, magical especially, and she wants to see more of it. It thrills her, and a dark part of her mind, a curling, desperate thing that pushes her forward and begs for more strength, that wishes and hopes for her to lose herself to the dark power that has taken her hands. She has no other choice but to fight it - and, so, she does, when she can, pushing her power into other thoughts and other things.
She watches, intense, as ever. ]
Good.
[ It is obvious that she is a dark, dangerous creature; she is made up of that darkness, her hands a reflection of it, and she shifts as she watches him, her eyes dancing over Elizabeth's features before she forces herself to calm. The voice in the back of her mind whispers at her, hissing at her to take shard and power, but she silences it as she gazes, staring.
The clouds come, however, as Elizabeth calls for them, and Lauralae tilts her head up to watch. She steps forward, dark eyes moving over dark clouds, and she says nothing, just stares and watches. After a few moments, she breathes out, her lips curling into a smirk. ]
( Ever has darkness drawn her, for all the light she bears, there is more than simply a tendril of night at the core of her sun in splendour. That is why she is here, why she is Unseelie and not dancing amidst the sunflowers and the daisies of Glaschu. Perhaps, even, this girl may be yet another reason for her to be here. The intensity of her gaze brings to the fore an answering surge of power and anticipation in the pit of her stomach.
She breathes in, breathes out, and smiles for her. Lightning flashes through the clouds, and strikes a nearby tree. The smell of ozone, burning wood and raw power remain heavy in the air, cloying. )
There is more. I see things others cannot. Events which are happening, or will occur. I can, in theory, alter the course of my fate. And.. curse whomever I choose to death and ruin.
I can trace my descent back to a river goddess in a land called Burgundy, far away from here. Melusina was her name. All that she has bestowed upon me, I will do my utmost to thus gift unto you.
( She steps closer, her gaze intensifying. )
What power might our blood purchase us in this world, dear heart?
[ She wants more of this, she thinks. The flash of power, the strength, the coiling burn of it that brushes over her skin and makes her want more. Nothing else seems as important in this moment and she drifts, moving forward and closing her eyes, breathing out a soft noise before she swallows, her dark eyes drinking it all in. This is what she wants, she thinks. This strength, this power, it enlightens her more than anything else she had ever dreamed of.
Lauralae wants to reach up and touch the lightning, to thread her fingers through the raw power, but she knows that is foolish. There's nothing she can do about that. ]
You have the Sight. The Visions. That is something the Aellyn once celebrated; love of the Oracle, of the future that might once have been told.
[ She doesn't hesitate, just letting herself watch Elizabeth. ]
Melusina is a handsome name.
[ But that is not important now, is it? ]
Anything. It can be used for the strongest of magic, of ritual. It can be used to empower runes, to summon, to suffocate. You can use another's blood as a tool to ensure their destruction.
( Since arriving here, her magic has drawn a stunning degree of acceptance from the people here. It had not taken her long to blossom, to feel some sense of pride in her power, which also in turn blossomed. But no one has ever reacted to it the way Lauralae now is, with a sense of awe and—well, she seems downright thrilled by it. The notion excited her, and another flash of lightning arces across the sky. Should the Aellyn meet her gaze, she will find it as intense and stormy as the weather about them. When the rain begins to fall, she tips her face up toward it and smiles, welcoming the embrace of her divine ancestress. )
You know it. ( That startles her, and yet it does not. Elizabeth inclines her head. ) Since I was a very little girl. But I have never known how to control it. This Lady Oracle, do you know if she would have been able to do so?
( Perhaps it is a lost art, one she might discover anew and learn for herself. If it means she can see things other than simply blood and death, that would be fantastic. )
One day, I will tell you her story.
( The wind picks up, and then dies down. Elizabeth breathes in, breathes out, and the fall of rain begins to ease, the rolls of thunder to grow more distant. Through simple use, she has grown better able to control this aspect of her power. )
That holds a note of terrible beauty to it. Yes. I would learn it. An equal trade.
[ What Lauralae wants is obvious; she is drawn to the magic, the power, the feel of a shard and the sense of strength that washes over her in waves. She wants to drown herself in it - which is, she thinks, rather apt, considering what strength Elizabeth brings forward. Her eyes close as she lets herself reach out with her own magic, as if the call of her blood might wrap around the other woman and stifle, steal, take - because that is what she wants. Power to earn her own freedom.
Slowly, she shakes her head. ] The Aellyn know it. They spoke highly of those with the Sight, the Oracle, that which they guide. Their calendars hail what is foretold and they whisper knowledge of what is to come. That is all I know of.
[ Would Elizabeth work out that she was once one of them, she wonders? Would the woman know that she speaks to a trueborn Aellyn cast out of her land for shame and evil? It matters not; none would speak to her people of her, none would risk it. Breathing out, Lauralae takes a step forward. ]
One day I will tell you one in return.
[ But that is not important now. What is important now is the magic, and she turns her gaze to stare, hard and sure. ]
( The moment Lauralae reaches out with her power, she can feel it. Her shard burns bright and hot in her chest, as though someone has thrust a red hot poker within the cavity of her body to pry it out from between her ribs. But more than that, the wind picks up. Thunder rolls across the heavens, and lightning shoots down to strike several trees not far from where they stand. Melusina is defending her, she realizes. Yet there is more to it, is there not? It is nearly as though by the same token, the goddess is embracing this dark, foreign power.
For a split-second, anger tears through her, bright and wild and terrible. Lightning strikes again, burning the very earth and mulch of the forest floor a deep black. As black as Lauralae's eyes. It is quick to depart, leaving behind an excitement that shakes her to the very core of herself, her skin on fire and tingling, almost as if.. well. Her own eyes are as dark and turbulent as their combined power. Some part of her calls to something in the other woman, and the same is true in the reverse. A wild and dangerous part, which wants this woman and her power. )
You know much more than most. ( Stepping forward, she closes most of the distance between them, until she is only barely heeding the strict wishes Lauralae put forth on their first meeting. They are so close that she can see the fluttering beat of her pulse at her throat, and feel her warmth. Close enough to kiss, should she desire it. And perhaps she does. )
I will not pry, if they are your people. But if you know aught of how I might turn a curse into a gift, I would be eternally in your debt. That, I know, is no small thing.
( But that is how much she is willing to give never to have to only see blood and death again. ) I will be very honoured upon that occasion. Perhaps it will come close to approaching your beauty.
( It likely will not, because there is no sort of beauty in all this land like hers. No mere words could ever hope to capture it. )
My power is also within my blood; inherited, though the centuries. You will need it, I think, to practice my sort of magic. Will you take it?
( Her gaze is also sure, but holds a double meaning, now. ) Be gentle, is all I ask.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
It is almost a shame to hear it, to let it be so.
The idle flattery, however, is not welcome, and she shakes her head. Let Elizabeth regard her for what she knows, not what she assumes. ]
Much to admire and much to learn from, I think.
[ Her lips curl into something dark, a little dangerous, and she lifts her arms. Her robe is long, covering her forearm and longer, but she draws them back. Her gloves cover only her hands, revealing her forearms - covered in scars, long thing marks, from knife and nail both, baring her power without shame.
Elizabeth is unmarred, beautiful in her pale skin. Lauralae wishes to see her marked for her trouble, to see her blood drip. ]
You will show me your power. Draw upon your shard, upon your latent magic, to show me your strength. Show me what is at your disposal and I shall show you how to draw your blood to the surface, to stretch out your gifts.
[ She smirks. ]
Then you will teach me your magic. A trade of power, our true passion.
no subject
She releases a deep exhale, and nods once, a slow incline of her head. )
Of that I have no doubt.
( There is something about the look which comes over Lauralae's face now which beckons her, a dark, thrilling allure, similar to what she had felt on the eve of Samhain. Only deeper. She looks upon those scars without flinching, finding a terrible sort of beauty in them. A ferocity which kindles fire in her, as her eyes meet those of her mentor, and hold, bright with intensity and with no intention of looking away.
She is not afraid. Indeed, she shifts to stand straighter before her, and focuses, feeling, sensing, living in the water all around her. Deep in her chest, something seethes with warmth. It is new, but again, not frightening. Elizabeth breathes in, breathes out, and clouds roll in overhead. A clap of thunder can be heard, rolling, dull and yet dangerous in the distance. And then, the heavens open, and rain pours from the sky. Just overhead, and not over a large swath of land, but she is improving. Already, she has surpassed the little her mother had taught her. )
I accept. ( Her smile now twists a little, showing another side of her, darker, bolder. ) And if it is passion you desire, you need only ask, my lady.
( Another clap of thunder, and she broadens her smile. ) It will be my pleasure.
no subject
She watches, intense, as ever. ]
Good.
[ It is obvious that she is a dark, dangerous creature; she is made up of that darkness, her hands a reflection of it, and she shifts as she watches him, her eyes dancing over Elizabeth's features before she forces herself to calm. The voice in the back of her mind whispers at her, hissing at her to take shard and power, but she silences it as she gazes, staring.
The clouds come, however, as Elizabeth calls for them, and Lauralae tilts her head up to watch. She steps forward, dark eyes moving over dark clouds, and she says nothing, just stares and watches. After a few moments, she breathes out, her lips curling into a smirk. ]
Beautiful. This power is beautiful.
no subject
She breathes in, breathes out, and smiles for her. Lightning flashes through the clouds, and strikes a nearby tree. The smell of ozone, burning wood and raw power remain heavy in the air, cloying. )
There is more. I see things others cannot. Events which are happening, or will occur. I can, in theory, alter the course of my fate. And.. curse whomever I choose to death and ruin.
I can trace my descent back to a river goddess in a land called Burgundy, far away from here. Melusina was her name. All that she has bestowed upon me, I will do my utmost to thus gift unto you.
( She steps closer, her gaze intensifying. )
What power might our blood purchase us in this world, dear heart?
no subject
Lauralae wants to reach up and touch the lightning, to thread her fingers through the raw power, but she knows that is foolish. There's nothing she can do about that. ]
You have the Sight. The Visions. That is something the Aellyn once celebrated; love of the Oracle, of the future that might once have been told.
[ She doesn't hesitate, just letting herself watch Elizabeth. ]
Melusina is a handsome name.
[ But that is not important now, is it? ]
Anything. It can be used for the strongest of magic, of ritual. It can be used to empower runes, to summon, to suffocate. You can use another's blood as a tool to ensure their destruction.
no subject
You know it. ( That startles her, and yet it does not. Elizabeth inclines her head. ) Since I was a very little girl. But I have never known how to control it. This Lady Oracle, do you know if she would have been able to do so?
( Perhaps it is a lost art, one she might discover anew and learn for herself. If it means she can see things other than simply blood and death, that would be fantastic. )
One day, I will tell you her story.
( The wind picks up, and then dies down. Elizabeth breathes in, breathes out, and the fall of rain begins to ease, the rolls of thunder to grow more distant. Through simple use, she has grown better able to control this aspect of her power. )
That holds a note of terrible beauty to it. Yes. I would learn it. An equal trade.
no subject
Slowly, she shakes her head. ] The Aellyn know it. They spoke highly of those with the Sight, the Oracle, that which they guide. Their calendars hail what is foretold and they whisper knowledge of what is to come. That is all I know of.
[ Would Elizabeth work out that she was once one of them, she wonders? Would the woman know that she speaks to a trueborn Aellyn cast out of her land for shame and evil? It matters not; none would speak to her people of her, none would risk it. Breathing out, Lauralae takes a step forward. ]
One day I will tell you one in return.
[ But that is not important now. What is important now is the magic, and she turns her gaze to stare, hard and sure. ]
Educate me and I will educate in turn.
no subject
For a split-second, anger tears through her, bright and wild and terrible. Lightning strikes again, burning the very earth and mulch of the forest floor a deep black. As black as Lauralae's eyes. It is quick to depart, leaving behind an excitement that shakes her to the very core of herself, her skin on fire and tingling, almost as if.. well. Her own eyes are as dark and turbulent as their combined power. Some part of her calls to something in the other woman, and the same is true in the reverse. A wild and dangerous part, which wants this woman and her power. )
You know much more than most. ( Stepping forward, she closes most of the distance between them, until she is only barely heeding the strict wishes Lauralae put forth on their first meeting. They are so close that she can see the fluttering beat of her pulse at her throat, and feel her warmth. Close enough to kiss, should she desire it. And perhaps she does. )
I will not pry, if they are your people. But if you know aught of how I might turn a curse into a gift, I would be eternally in your debt. That, I know, is no small thing.
( But that is how much she is willing to give never to have to only see blood and death again. ) I will be very honoured upon that occasion. Perhaps it will come close to approaching your beauty.
( It likely will not, because there is no sort of beauty in all this land like hers. No mere words could ever hope to capture it. )
My power is also within my blood; inherited, though the centuries. You will need it, I think, to practice my sort of magic. Will you take it?
( Her gaze is also sure, but holds a double meaning, now. ) Be gentle, is all I ask.