Desert Heat spilled as the sand moved, whipped around the collapsed figure of the broken woman. It was easy to find where her flight had begun and where it had ended.
A shattered window from a tenth story. The shards of glass splayed around her as tiny glittering diamonds. Her payment. As before the presumption was death.
No one could survive such a plight, such a fall. Scarlet burning rubies of life force became a river of blood to paint the town red. Cobblestones a canvas of the end. The beginning.
The cobblestones hissed and sang a protest, as if they were burning. Coils of smoke curled around her. The girl on fire.
Wild gold of hair would be brushed with red come the light of a sunset. Her flesh glistened, glittered as if a match struck...ignited to set her soul on fire.
The desert woman did not believe in death. Did not believe in the afterlife despite the beliefs of the desert born.
A crackingly sickening sound. This was not logs breaking apart in a hearth but bones rekindled and set in place. The evening was quiet. Hushed and waiting. No one walked these parts. Those dark alleys.
In the quiet she would stir, that broken body of the dancer rolling as if necromancer summoned. On all fours, savage wild. The tattoo of black tribal seemed to find life. Find energy.
Firebird wings covered her shoulder blades, feathers drifting down to the small of back, sensual caress at hips. It was an appropriate marking. Ash and soot in color but now the mark seemed to blaze to life.
Embered and sparked, flicking out burning fragments of light and energy.That body moved with a gasp as first breath was taken.
Phoenix awakened. A desert firebird reborn.
Her eyes opened. Those everchanging eyes that never could decide on a shade bore wings of flame. A rising red bird that would stir.
Coming to her feet she shook away the cinders, the ash from her broken skin as it healed. Reborn she lifted her head, gaze centered on the window she had fallen....no....been pushed from.
Savage smile, proud in its defiance. The dancer turned on her heel and disappeared into the night leaving nothing but burning blood to mark her 'final' resting place.
It would only be a few streets down that Rhyslin and Crystal would find the bold spirit of the desert firebird. Wild Hawk and Little Dove had no idea of how she would make their souls ignite....
A shattered window from a tenth story. The shards of glass splayed around her as tiny glittering diamonds. Her payment. As before the presumption was death.
No one could survive such a plight, such a fall. Scarlet burning rubies of life force became a river of blood to paint the town red. Cobblestones a canvas of the end. The beginning.
The cobblestones hissed and sang a protest, as if they were burning. Coils of smoke curled around her. The girl on fire.
Wild gold of hair would be brushed with red come the light of a sunset. Her flesh glistened, glittered as if a match struck...ignited to set her soul on fire.
The desert woman did not believe in death. Did not believe in the afterlife despite the beliefs of the desert born.
A crackingly sickening sound. This was not logs breaking apart in a hearth but bones rekindled and set in place. The evening was quiet. Hushed and waiting. No one walked these parts. Those dark alleys.
In the quiet she would stir, that broken body of the dancer rolling as if necromancer summoned. On all fours, savage wild. The tattoo of black tribal seemed to find life. Find energy.
Firebird wings covered her shoulder blades, feathers drifting down to the small of back, sensual caress at hips. It was an appropriate marking. Ash and soot in color but now the mark seemed to blaze to life.
Embered and sparked, flicking out burning fragments of light and energy.That body moved with a gasp as first breath was taken.
Phoenix awakened. A desert firebird reborn.
Her eyes opened. Those everchanging eyes that never could decide on a shade bore wings of flame. A rising red bird that would stir.
Coming to her feet she shook away the cinders, the ash from her broken skin as it healed. Reborn she lifted her head, gaze centered on the window she had fallen....no....been pushed from.
Savage smile, proud in its defiance. The dancer turned on her heel and disappeared into the night leaving nothing but burning blood to mark her 'final' resting place.
It would only be a few streets down that Rhyslin and Crystal would find the bold spirit of the desert firebird. Wild Hawk and Little Dove had no idea of how she would make their souls ignite....