Mother of Faces (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
motheroffaces) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
cyclicality2015-03-01 09:48 pm
motheroffaces) wrote in cyclicality2015-03-01 09:48 pm
Closed
ooc: The posts in here will take place shortly prior to part 2 of the plot.
A. Docks (Closed to Bumi) - The yelp is cut off all too quickly. The woman's pale hand snakes forward, impossibly fast, closing around the man's throat. She's strong -- too strong -- the momentum of it sends him crashing back against the wall, pinning him under her grasp. Her fingers press like daggers into the soft flesh at his jaw and around his windpipe. Her eyes are cold and black as stones.
He will not be leaving this encounter easily. If at all.
"The Avatar believes that you are capable of learning." Her gaze never leaves his face. "I do not."
B. Spirit Wilds (Closed to Mia) - The water of the former fountain twists in response to the footsteps, swirls. The Mother of Faces emerges from the depths, the great branches of her crown dripping.
She surveys the group -- two stone-faced men, each with a pouch dangling at their belts, holding onto a small, blue-haired girl. One hand lifts; the girl is released. Apparently the Mother has no concern about the girl running off.
"Mia." The name is greeting and question both. What exactly had she been doing?
A. Docks (Closed to Bumi) - The yelp is cut off all too quickly. The woman's pale hand snakes forward, impossibly fast, closing around the man's throat. She's strong -- too strong -- the momentum of it sends him crashing back against the wall, pinning him under her grasp. Her fingers press like daggers into the soft flesh at his jaw and around his windpipe. Her eyes are cold and black as stones.
He will not be leaving this encounter easily. If at all.
"The Avatar believes that you are capable of learning." Her gaze never leaves his face. "I do not."
B. Spirit Wilds (Closed to Mia) - The water of the former fountain twists in response to the footsteps, swirls. The Mother of Faces emerges from the depths, the great branches of her crown dripping.
She surveys the group -- two stone-faced men, each with a pouch dangling at their belts, holding onto a small, blue-haired girl. One hand lifts; the girl is released. Apparently the Mother has no concern about the girl running off.
"Mia." The name is greeting and question both. What exactly had she been doing?