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To guide, to lead, to seek (Open)
Darkness was nothing for many magical creatures. Some creatures could see into the pitch blackness of the darkest night, while others created their own light. The firebird glowed; its feathers were sought after for many reasons, and one was indeed the glow. After losing one when something decided the glow looked yummy, the crone realized that even when not attached to her body, the feathers would keep glowing. She had half a mind to pluck a few and keep them for the future.
The City had its own firebird, and it flew through the night sky, leaving a trail of fire, or just the afterglow of its tail feathers, behind it. To go to Eric now seemed a bad idea; she doubted the vampire would react well to the heat she generated in this form. Somehow she'd become a magical living breathing furnace, more or less. She didn't burn things down, but she was certainly warm to the touch. Warmer than she probably should be.
She finally settled on a balcony, staring out over the still slightly busy street. It was her second night as a bird, and she'd ruined two flats from the change: first when she turned back into a woman that morning, second when she turned back into the a firebird as the sun went down that evening. It hurt like hell, and she liked to be in ore control of the damage she did. So, she sat on the ledge and stared at the street; she wasn't sure what she was looking for, but she knew she was looking for something. If she was trying to perform some mythical duty as the firebird, she was going to be seriously pissed.
The City had its own firebird, and it flew through the night sky, leaving a trail of fire, or just the afterglow of its tail feathers, behind it. To go to Eric now seemed a bad idea; she doubted the vampire would react well to the heat she generated in this form. Somehow she'd become a magical living breathing furnace, more or less. She didn't burn things down, but she was certainly warm to the touch. Warmer than she probably should be.
She finally settled on a balcony, staring out over the still slightly busy street. It was her second night as a bird, and she'd ruined two flats from the change: first when she turned back into a woman that morning, second when she turned back into the a firebird as the sun went down that evening. It hurt like hell, and she liked to be in ore control of the damage she did. So, she sat on the ledge and stared at the street; she wasn't sure what she was looking for, but she knew she was looking for something. If she was trying to perform some mythical duty as the firebird, she was going to be seriously pissed.