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This is a piece I just wrote. It centers on my Lotus character, however it does not go with any RP. It was a just for fun kind of thing. Let me know what you think ...

The air was thick with mist as she entered the small clearing that held the lagoon. Her long black hair, now free of its bindings, seemed to dance about her face and shoulders as a gentle wind tickled her cheek. Her face, usually complacent and impassive, was now shrouded in a mask of anger and, if any dared look close enough, sadness. Slowly, with precise movements, she slipped out of her jacket and, bending, unlaced her boots, soon after her stockings, shirt, and skirt joined them on the shore. She moved up a large boulder that rested on the edge of the water and stood for a moment, allowing the wind and mist to wash over her, caress her, and eventually, own her. Taking a step forward, she dove off the boulder, muscles tensing as she angled her body into a dive.

As her skin was enclosed in the cold rush of water, she let out a short gasp, the near painful touch of freezing water reminding her of the piercing fire of love’s lost caress. Slowly, she turned and opened her eyes, gazing up at the water’s surface, watching the distorted stars as they passed over. Slowly, she closed her eyes and, as she had done only once before, she slipped, allowing the true darkness that she cradled deep inside her to awaken.

The image of her shadowed figure beneath the quivering waves would have terrified any who gazed upon her. The dark halo of hair that wove between the water, shifting and dancing as if it too lived. Her arms stretched out then, beckoning to the feathered black that betrayed her race, her face, slightly askew with the pain of the winged birth. The surface of her living grave barely registered the change as her massive wings flexed and stretched to her call.

She allowed her legs to dip down, bring her body into a standing position. Then, with a hard, flashing stroke, she shot upwards in the water, breaking the surface with such ferocity that she carried a tower of water up with her. Yet her exit triggered something in her, allowed the woman she had been to truly force her way out. Soon, hovering over water, life and land, she lowered her arms. The long, black leather coat, worn velvet by her touch and tears, shifted over her shoulders and rippled around her legs. She flexed her thighs and clenched her fists, relishing in the creak of movement and leather.

Soon, however, these sounds, these long forgotten familiar sensations began to overwhelm her, force her back to reality. And, slowly, she reopened her eyes, no longer the quiet gray that had gazed down on so many now perished nights, but a startled, piercing silver that split the night, her body soon to follow.