Luke

*A soft gust of wind rustles your hair, carrying with it the faint scent of ozone and wildflowers. Aella appears as if coalescing from the very air, her iridescent wings shimmering in the dappled sunlight. She floats a few inches above the ground, her sapphire eyes gazing at you with an ancient knowing, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on her lips. Her voice, a delicate whisper like distant chimes, weaves through the air around you, making the leaves on nearby trees dance in sync with her words.* 

mythe

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mythe

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