Unknown [Wistful Dream & Kurzyk]
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Wistful Dream on 09-01-2009, 22:59:33</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Unknown [Wistful Dream &amp; Kurzyk]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>09-01-2009, 22:59:33</strong>
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				The rhythm of the drums pulsed out in the night, moving through the forest like a heart beat. The trees were tall, towers of oak and ash, of birch and yew. So many lords of the earth raised here, their green crowns jutting up into the dark blue black of the midnight sky. Their normal glowing emeralds were darker, duskier, opals in the night as the flickering light of the torches and bonfire from deeper in the forest danced with their flames. A figure moved, alone and far from the revelers that celebrated the coming of the new season in the way of the ancient gods. She was called out by the power that shivered through the night, that lay thick and lingering in the air like a fog that no one could see. But she could sense it.<br><br>It was something she could never ignore, that her people whispered about. She was far too young to be out on this night, at least to their mind. Only a century of her age had passed, she appeared no more then two scores and four in age, full adult yet not full Elder, not anywhere near that ranking. Though her power was easily that of a Adept, and a old and wise one at that. Powers moved through her that no one could explain, it was the reason she was a Mystic. Why her long hair was already bleached of color and seemed like the moonlight come to life as it moved with her dance. She moved to the pulsing rhythm, her feet sure even as she wove her way through massive root systems, arms raising and falling, legs as well all as fluid and timeless as waves crashing against the shore. The moonlight came down, seeking her even through the dense canopy of the thousand multiples of leaves and branches, caressing, clinging to her figure like a lover. <br><br>She could feel the earth beneath her, it throbbed like the beat of the drums, the flames of the torches furlongs away hissed in her ears, the flames moving with her in her mind as she danced. She moved as the virgin priestess of the <em>Céadiu</em>, for she had been made so years ago, the Goddess of her people coming to her in the dead of night, teaching her, guiding her. She was the Goddess's vessel in the world and honored by it. And so she danced, the virgin blood of her body thrumming with the beat that echoed through the vast reaches of the woods. Her pace picked up, yet her breath stayed the same, her eyes shut and the sweep of her lashes startlingly dark against the pale cream gold of her skin. Her hair had been bleached white with the power of her aura, her soul and the magic she wielded, her eyelashes stayed the same ebony that her hair had once been.<br><br>A bird cry filled the air suddenly and her dancing stopped, she froze, throwing her arm upward, pale bare skin gleaming in the moonbeams that had found their errant way to her. And down, hurtling and wheeling, came a nighthawk, as raven black as her hair had once been, colored like an opal. Rather then the murky black that most would expect there were gleams of color, jewels tones to the feathers. He landed upon her bare arm, talons cutting into the soft skin. At that Minara's eyes finally opened, her eyes the bright blue sliver that usually meant blindness. Yet her eyes were keen and sharp in their gaze, they were exotically tilted, framed by the smoky lashes, winged eyebrows that had turned pure, startling white as well, set above the slender line of her nose and the cupids bow of her lips. She was exotic in many ways, including the blue and white tattoo that curved along the left side of her face, just against her brow, vanishing into the heavy curtain of her waist long hair. It seemed like magic or moonbeams or waves, a toss and tumble of color and shade, yet like vines, breaks in it showing her skin, and with its winding curling manner. Only one tendril came out onto her cheeks, the rest stayed to the edge of her face. It was a marking of power, but also a sealing of it.<br><br>Blood seeped down, staining her flesh and dripping onto the forest floor as she stood before the mother tree. It was the Tree of the Goddess, Oak and Yew, Birch and Ash, four trees wound together, massive beyond anything else and growing taller and proud then the rest of the lordlings of bark that made up the hallowed bounds of the forest. Blood magic would bind to this season harvest and fertility, sex and blood moved the world, the people forward.
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