Welcome to Gaia! ::

She walked through the area, carefully keeping her cloak hood up to shade her sensitive eyes from the bright light. It was warm here, not a climate she enjoyed for long, but it was tolerable today. She was in good spirits and her wings seemed almost to glimmer. Though, she did admit, they were slightly strange. Her wings were the deepest dark sky blue with traces of silver streaking their forms to create the impression of almost a night sky. Silver eyes gleaming from beneath her cloak as she walked along the beach, she noted the rolling of the waves and the many stones which lined the cliffs.

A dark cowl rested around her shoulders, hanging open to reveal her gentle curving frame and carmel skin. There were a few pink scars that were visible at her sides, but the cloak conceled their true nature. She was dressed to kill, as one might say, but to Celeste, it had an entirely different meaning. Her simple tank top of black was made of link fabric, useful in repelling light arrow heads, and also flexible for quick movement. It was also organic, something she very much appreciated when shifting through the shadows, as her chainmail had been known to... disappear. Very akward moments had occured until she finally found the weave. Her pants were made of the same material, but dyed a lighter color of gray. And around her throat was a small dark blue and silver pendant stone, perhaps the size of a grape, but perfectly round and surrounded on either side by two silver beads. It had been a gift to her from her mother, Sky, and part of her inherited trait of necrogenisis. She had to wear it or risk being drained from the light which prickled her skin.

Along her forearms rests Ichigaki and Iroko, her hand blade dirks. The arm sheiths held them comfortably with their double hilts. Besides these, three throwing blades rested on her person, well concealed and easily unsheathable in seconds from the least likely of places which included down her back, in her boot, and at her side. The last weaponry she held was Deathwhisper, her long bow which she wore over her shoulder with a quiver. She was unusually well stocked for a citizen, but she had learned long ago the consequences for being ill prepared.

Pausing, she frowns. She had let her mind wander, and now she was not sure where she was. With a slight sigh, she steps back into one of the few shadows and beats her wings as she jumps to give her a better view of the shore and area where she was at. "Wow..." she mused softly in her bell like voice. It was impressive, but in a dark manner. She could see the scars of the land where the battles had been fought between sides, fallen banners swaying like ghosts in the breese.

Her breath caught for a moment as she feels the drop in temperature. It could not be normal, for she knew that the southern continents never lost thier golden sun which was her antagonist. Her ears had picked up the sound of feet on the rocks above her, light and strangely precise. Turning her silver gaze upward as she drew her cloak tighter around her, she turns as the winds suddenly lash as though some beast spirit had become a part of them and the waves thrash as though they are tired of their lolling and shifting. As the lightning struck, she felt a chill run through her. This was not natural at all...

The words drift to her ears as she turns, the wind whipping her coppery lockes to the side as well as her cloak, revealing her four dark wings. Her silvery eyes peirce through the darkening area of the storm as she allows the wind to sweep the cloak hood from over her eyes and reveal her face to him. It was a proud profile, but one with an intelligent gleam to them. Darkness seemed to radiate invisibly from around her, thick enough to be felt and made uneasy with those who were unfarmilliar to its cold touch. "The bringer of light and darkness... wild and uncontrolled..." she mused, her gentle voice now quiet and guarded, the accent mixed with that of the nuetral western lands. A fury by birth she could recognize the polar oppisite of her kind, and that alone made her wary. But his dialect was strange, not the normal cadence of Cultean. "Is this your storm?"

She could sense that he was sensitive to her and his eyes were slightly unsettlig to her, for she was a user of darkness and illusions. Yet, she was also trained in altering not only vision but sound as well as feel by her emotions which could change faster than the lightning could strike. Her hands rest comfortably on her double hilted dirks, a habit, not a threat. But also a precaution.

Her eyes flick as others arrive and she steps back slightly as she smiles at the question one had been given to answer. She did prefer the cold weather to the heat of the day. Relaxing slightly, her fingers touch the darkblue stone which she wore on her necklace as she took a breath. It helped to keep the heat from effecting her too heavily. She was sure now about the dialect. It was definately not from her region. But her own would not be easily distinuguished as she had wandered for many years. Falling into one of the shadows she shifts through it until she comes to a slightly less crowded area that was still within polite distance to the group. She didn't like being in areas with a lot of people, especially when she didn't know them well.