Oh~

What would it be like to be that slender, that graceful? That quick, that subtle? How would it feel to have feathers? Running back along her arms in bladed shapes, inflexible and sensitive, roots running deep into her skin? Would it be sharp and brittle like the wind? How would it feel to be fragile?

The thought intoxicates her, twists in her head perversely. She knows what it is to be strong, to be direct. She learned what it was to be cunning, to be stubborn. But this? This would force her to remake herself. So much knowledge she'd have to abandon! So many instincts she'd have to give up! Her mind races, her mouth waters, her scales are hot from a feeling other than electricity and electricity yet runs up her spine. She'd have to submerge herself. She'd have to become someone else entirely. She'd have to obliterate herself and all her sins, reborn in orange and fire. It couldn't be emphasized enough how intense she found that thought, how erotic it seemed to her. To take this into her. To put herself into it. Neither of them would survive.

"Ah, my goddess," she breathed. "Let me worship you."

The storage locker tore open like a bodice, overflowing with treasures. Thermal pistols scattered into her hands like candles rich with the promise of dripping wax. Her hands cupped grenades, smooth and round, magnetic locks sticking to her hands and shoulders like trails of jagged kisses. A long energy rifle of unknown make and purpose tried to force her to her knees with its weight and she could feel its promise as she set it against her jaw. She breathed deep the musk of gunpowder and felt the vibrations of full energy cells. She tore her eyes away from her arsenal to breathlessly focus again on the slender lines of legs and arms, the unspoken promises and threats that came with going to war unarmed. To stand naked in metallic glory and still have so many secrets...

But she was playing too. Her exhilarated caress of all of these weapons, the bashful staring, her brand new arsenal - jewelry, makeup, teasing looks. Her two swords stayed digital by her side, still and sheathed as though she would ever fight a battle without them. Her shyness was both true and feigned; she blushed like a virgin but she'd done this before and her mind was already rushing ahead to the most intimate parts of the coming dance.

"I will call you [i]Kathresis[/i]," she said as the hammering of her pulse threw off her aim. "And though I am nothing before you, I will walk your sacred storm."

[Solarel is [i]Smitten [/i]with the [i]Kathresis[/i]]