illynx,

She had found fewer and fewer moments to spare in her time as of late for one of her favorite past times, and the plots of peace standing between herself and one of the main herds of the land had also reduced her to lingering within the Basin most often, for fear that the temptation to purge would grow too strong to allow her to be wise in her selection of targets and she would simply punch the wrong fellow.

It had also grown cold, very much overnight, it seemed – the wind was ragged and without tire and she could feel it try to steal her breath even as she puffed her way up the knoll to her favorite position for calling her soldiers to her. The footing is slick and haggard beneath the layers of slush and ice, she discovers, nearly falling as she looses traction and a limb slides suddenly back and herself along with it by several inches, a snort of surprise taking her as she pins her ears and forces her way back through the hard wind.

They will have to leave this year, its showing her all the signs.

It only makes her more annoyed. The thought of living on the floating isle with all those hybrid huggers like they’d been forced to in the caverns made her skin crawl.

At least she knows who she will call on this day, uncommon in and of itself and making her stance all the more domineering as she finally crests the hillock and stands overlooking her snow covered vale, the winds the whip across its velveteen face and toss diamonds into the air as they pass.

"Aviya!" summons the bitch, the golden one, her voice sweet and commanding as it bites the Moon’s frosty kiss as she blusters by, "let us dance, sister!"

The purposes are myriad, they stem from her pride and from her false illusions of love for those she puppeteers and watches over; she wants to better their bodies, to grow with them, to see them gleaming and beautiful and bending to leave bruises and bloodied marks – and she wants to calm the riot within the dark coated girl, the daughter of the Doctor so full of hatred and chaos, she must teach her to be stronger than her iron soul has already revealed.

Her son is gone, the magic of the land rebels against them once again (or perhaps their very Gods), and she finds that one too many things have pushed her as of late. Even Kyst is sour as she shivers on the metal plated back of her irritated companion, her cat face curled in contempt for her master's idiocy and insistence to seek combat in the middle of a bluster such as this.

Nothing soothes a raging soul quite like a bit of raging oneself.

Her smile grows wolfish as she waits, almost eager to teach what she had been forced to learn so young to reclaim what had been so wrongly stolen.

[ Setting: Aurora Basin center on a raised hill; footing is poor and heavy with slush and ice and the wind is freezing.

It should be fun? x3

Traditional spar, 3 posts each and a closing defense. Usual three week time limit sound good? ]

@[Aviya]

intending to burn - pretending to fight it
everyone learns faster on fire