“Sit with me, Maul-Chaluim of Clan Silverfish,” Miriel said. She pointed at the ground before her, and showed no emotion while she watched Maul struggled on whether he would listen to her or not. He stared at her through wisps of black hair, his hands shaking either with fear or anger, she could not tell. Finally, however, he sat cross-legged in front of her in the same position as herself. He took care not to touch her…but still sat within a finger tip.
“Goddess of the Night Wind. You should not be so bold to summon me whenever you wish; I was in the middle of assisting with camp.”
“I see through the eyes of my holy image, Maul-Chaluim, and you are nowhere to be seen; how would I know what you are doing?”
“If you’re a goddess, shouldn’t you see everything and anything of what you wish?” he asked bitterly, absently playing with the ground at his side.
“I am a young goddess, my wild elf.” Miriel dropped her hands to her own side, and slowly mirrored his motions, enjoying the feel of the grass on her skin. “Do you fault me for being as a child, following my path set out for me by Fate?”
“You would compare this to following a sacred path?!”
Miriel slowed her fingers and began tracing ancient mudras in the grass. The wind picked up, catching playfully at both of their hairs. “I would. I was but a foolish youngling when I wandered in that shop.” She looked away from Maul’s face for a moment, contemplating nothing in the distance while she thought back to that day. A small smile spread on her lips. “It was a test, I know that now. I was given my own tattoo and introduced to a whole new world; a new fantastic point of view. No one told me no, or where to go, or say I was only dreaming…a whole new world with you.”
The wild elf blushed; his fingers now echoed her movements, tracing mudras he’d never known without even realizing it. “It’s…not just me, there are others.”
Miriel cocked her head to one side. “Yes, tell me of the others.”
“The gnome is a loyal friend and is always there to lend aid.” His right hand whipped outward for a moment, his frustration evident. “He is a bit of a coward, however, and will often follow Cur…”. The wild elf swallowed the word quickly, closing his eyes and once again moving his hand in time with her own. “The fairy gibbers at me; I’ve not the patience to learn Fey. And the Tengu is interesting – his view of this world most definitely differs from Curt…” He cut his words off again with a loud growl, his frame jumping slightly from the ground.
Miriel held her hands up in front of his face, watching him from beneath her lashes. She began tracing the mudras in the air between them, calmly. After a few moments Maul, with obvious reluctance, raised his own hands and matched her in movement, his motions tentative at first then every bit as graceful as her own. “And what of your final member of my First Order? The one of your group that you actually Name.” She raised her eyes and stared hard at him, daring him to leave her question unanswered. “What of my Priest?”
“Curtis,” he answered, sighing with regret. “He is fine, I gave him a much deserved beating and left.” He noticed her anger and matched fire with fire. “What? He’ll be fine, he would have used one of your Blessings to heal himself and continue on his journey.”
“You left my Priest alone, with Dwarven murderers surrounding him, and you think he is fine?! He was captured and beaten, and is now to be put to the death on the 33rd of Floodside!”
“WHAT?!?!?” Maul grabbed her hands and brought them onto his heart. “The only one to beat him is me! And, well, you, my Goddess.” He suddenly noticed he held her hands and let go quickly, but she was quicker, pulling his hands onto her own chest.
“No, my wild elf, you will not get away from me that easily. You are my weapon just as Curtis is my words. Be my hurricane and destroy those that would defy my will, rip them from this very earth and hurl them to their death for daring to lay a hand on my own! Make me stronger so I can protect my people properly! Show those that have fallen so low that my children can bring them back up to heights they’ve never dreamed of! A storm you will be – SO A STORM YOU SHALL HAVE!!!”
Miriel brought his hands to her lips and kissed them, and the power of a thousand winds screaming to be loosed jolted from deep within and into Maul, making him stiffen and jerk in her grip. Proudly she watched as he buried his own scream deep inside himself, as if his very life depended on it. Dark clouds gathered suddenly above them, thunder and lightning a surreal dream while the wind that blew in their midst a terrifying nightmare.
Maul bent on top of her, hair whipping about him as she cradled his head in the crook of her neck, wings flaring out but untouched by the storm; indeed, the wind licked at each feather as a lover would eagerly lick hot skin. She held him until his spasms stopped, and he looked up with no hint of exhaustion, only a fury that would not stop…a flash of lighting and rippled darkness flashed in his eyes, so quickly it was almost imagined. She clasped the back of his neck and brought her head in so they were forehead to forehead. “I gift that power to you, my wild elf; you are my Storm and none shall stand in your way.”
“Yes, my Goddess of the Night Wind,” he whispered, hands holding just as hard onto her own neck, proud and firm. “I will show them what happens when a Storm is unleashed upon the undeserving….”