Solira: The Ocean: Waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door, NICO

Datura stood there on the shoreline like she had for many days. Watching the rise and fall of the waves as they gestured with foamy fingers, beckoning her towards them. Part of her longed to meet those waves, let them wash over her...let them take her down into the darker blue until the light was gone from her eyes. She wanted death. More than anything she wanted to feel it's embrace once more. But a fear stirred inside the pit of her stomach as she heard Saphira's words 'you will never be alive, and yet unable to die. You will be my slave, and you will have eternity to suffer for what you’ve done… ' More than anything she didn't want to find those words to be true. Death would find her again. It had to... She couldn't live alone in the confines of this body, never to feel the sweet freedom of release.
They were more alike than they would probably ever know, but still so irrevocably different. Datura had loved. If you could call it love... using her earthly persuasion over his lightning. Kemush still didn't know that Datura's son was his. She had wanted a child only to revile it when it actually arrived. Perhaps she just liked the idea of collecting pretty things and making them hers. It had made her happy for the briefest of times. But now they were gone.

She had seen the sandy cloud kicked up from beneath his hooves. Her ears heard them plodding in the deep sand..closer...closer. The red of his body caught her eyes. For a moment excitement or fear shuddered through her small frame. Pirate. He'd returned to settle the score, bring her back with him; back to death. But Pirate would not have been so kind. And as he neared close enough for his eyes to be seen they were not the golden-falcon eyes she had stared into before. They were a stranger's. It took her a few seconds to realize he wasn't slowing. But she didn't move. Not a single muscle stirred save for the closing of her eyelids. A white curtain over a sea of cold black. The small mare waiting for him to collide. Perhaps it would be enough. Or at least some kind of pain... she didn't know if she could feel anything besides this emptiness anymore. She held out hope even as more seconds ticked and she knew it would be imminent. But nothing. A spray of sand flew against her ivory chest. No. Her eyes flicked open in slight annoyance to find him standing still and beautiful before her. Like a stature carved from crimson stone. He seemed very different from pirate then...besides that fiery red. Especially those eyes. They didn't pierce like the falcon gold had. They were softer. More distant.

His voice was softer than she would have thought. Maybe not really so much softer as just more refined. She would have taken him for a warrior before he'd opened his mouth. She should have realized it sooner, he didn't have the scars of a warrior. She chided her silently at her lack of perception to detail. She couldn't lose that. But then there was a scar...and his words made it quite clear. Saphira! That name sent a prickle down her spine; it wasn't in fear. Yes, she understood. She smiled in a brief flicker of amusement. Hate. It was too simple a word to put with her feeling for the mare.
”More than hate --yet at times I find myslef thanking her...loving her - in a way.” Love. Datura definitely had a strange definition for that word. But how could she explain it to this creature who stood before her? Datura's scar was deeper than his, that twisted snake-coil could not be seen clearly anymore, it was a sunken pit dug into her flesh. Saphira had been the one to free her from that shard...Datura had loved her for this. Saphira had saved her from it. Datura had taken the blood of others to feed that parasitic stone but she had been freed, or so she thought. Was it better to control that power or to be held in it's sway? This was the question that plagued Datura when her body would hunger for the stone once more. She rolled the question around in her mind over and over polishing it down to a smooth little stone. It would go smaller and smaller until one day she would not have any resistance left. And the hinger would consume her.
A pair of sad empty eyes looked up at him, searching. Pleading that he would not condemn her. Although she would not let herself hope. Her voice was eerily hushed as one spoken in sleep, And you – do you hate her for this ? She dreaded his answer, knowing it even as she spoke the question.

D A T U R A
Solemn at the wake, hand in hand with the devil, singing "Hallelujah"

EARTH III + LIGHTNING III + AIR I

THE REVENANT
disjecta membra \\ devil's trumpet