[ 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.
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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.
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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.