Jump to content


Recommended Posts

Riding the wind was like driving a chariot were all the horses were running in different directions. Aesira was tugged and pulled in a dozen different directions. There was no symphony of the elements here. The wind would not be tamed.

The storm – the storm she had created – was another matter. She loved the play of the rain-laden air currents upon her mind. She loved the complex dance she was forced to undertake to make the unbidden monster answer to the task she had in mind. This time, the purpose was more than a personal exercise. The island was going through a drought and the farmers were suffering. Their winter crops needed this rain just as their families needed the food for themselves and the markets.

Aesira wasn’t sure why she cared. She didn’t know these people and only heard about their suffering second-hand. Their misery wasn’t hers, but somehow she cared. This was more than an exercise, or a time to commune with her wild nature. This had to do with suffering brown eyes, crying children, and women whose faces lacked hope … and this bothered her.

The rain began falling as a gentle mist. She would build it up slowly so as not to cause torrential run off. It was delightful to feel the will of the rain pulling against her will. It wanted to unleash its full fury. The clouds were dark, angry, and full. The winds were ready to rip down on an unsuspecting world in a vibrant torrent. It was delightful as it was dangerous.

She hated flying, or more to the point the sad reality that she hadn’t mastered it yet. She could wield the winds across the wave tops, but couldn’t subtly keep them close around her. Buoyancy wasn’t as easy as it should have been. She had to find another way.

The rain was picking up now. She slowly shepherded the storm inland, several villages needed this rain. It felt both fun and something more. She felt like she was doing something better and purposeful – something right. The storm was an instrument and she played it well. That was because she felt the storm in her soul. She was a piece and part of the weather and it was her truest calling.

Thunder cracked and rain from the heavens. The storm was in its purest element now. It was barely enough to not cause mudslides, but Aesira was close to losing herself in the elements she was trying to control. She was still new to her basest nature and it was a heady experience. She plummeted from the skies and only barely caught a graceful wind. It laid her back down to the black earth. The rain drenched her. The winds plucked at her clothing. She looked like a mess.

She knelt in the mud, exhausted. She felt the storm break free of her and begin to tear itself apart. It was a thing of her will and without its driving force, nature took over. The air sucked out the moisture so carefully cultivated. The winds lost their engine and the air became becalmed. It was a sad sight for her to take in. Her storm, this storm, was gone.

Link to comment
Share on other sites


This topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.

  • Create New...