Great Conclave - III

Her frail hands reached out and positioned themselves in the air as if she were welcoming something from above and her lips moved in unintelligible whispers. She would pass this off as a dramatic flare to spook them, but something did indeed come over her at that moment.

Chilling winds thrashed and howled through the area like hungry wolves. The clear night sky became cloudy as she watched the stars vanish into darkness, a downpour of sudden rain crashing onto the plateau. The fire sizzled and fought for its life and the clansmen shifted in discomforted awe at the display.

Joyous relief flooded her veins at the feat, masking the drowsiness from calling a rainstorm. Later she would pass out upon returning to Koshnem’s yurt to recall the events, her essence being depleted for a few days following.

Not wanting to believe his eyes, the old chieftain raised a finger to insult them once more but was met with a sudden blast of cold.
She had one final trick up her sleeve for the Conclave. A taste of magik made it difficult to resist.

From her outreached palm rose a shimmery silver mist and it sank onto the ground where it proceeded to slither across the way to him, winding around the fire with a soft twinkling noise. His eyes were wide as the faintly-glowing mist cloud assembled itself into the form of a person--a woman, Shalia decided as the concentration danced on her fingertips to balance both the rain and the shape she had created.

The figure was faceless and bald, an icy color of the moon, and floated just above the ground with feet that vanished into nothing. It lightly bobbed in the wind as if doing a taunting sway at her foe.

It was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen. ~I’ll need to do that again sometime…~

She let the old chieftain and the clansmen drink in the site before the misty figure raised its hand and swiped at him, causing no harm but showering him in an icy spray he turned to shield his vision from. His guard took a swing at the mist with his hand axe but it vanished before his eyes.

After it was whisked away, Shalia contentedly folded her hands in front of her. She was careful not to stumble in the lightheadedness that followed. The weaver was quite impressed with herself having never juggled more than one ability at a time, especially with such targeted focus.

"Ongkem!" Another leader shouted and a mumbled echo of the word was repeated among the awestruck audience.
She smiled at the word. Witch. Her eyes intently burned into the crowd as she looked all around her, slowly turning to make sure everyone gave her full attention.

~Do you want to taste Noraura's wrath?~ She nearly shouted into the night, but understood that this grand meeting was not called for her alone. This moment was not made for her. It was called for Koshnem and she would not wish to overshadow his declaration of power. Her cheeks flushed deeply.

They would both walk away with glory.

She had hoped the intentional hanging silence would make the group uncomfortable. She loved to ruffle feathers and unnerve, especially when it came to men.

Shalia's head upturned to the stars so the rain could stream down onto her skin, eyes closed. Drawing in the crisp winter air rejuvenated her body, mind, and soul, and she refocused on the purpose of everything.

The rain and wind quickly subsided leaving behind an eerie motionlessness among the circle.

Suddenly, her voice boomed across the sky, and the contrast of the womanly tone against the now-grumbling clansmen was stark. Glaring into the crowd like a predatory Luger, Shalia began to address them in a firm but formal manner.

"Before you stands Koshnem, War Chieftain of the Aghul, and he summons the clans here to recognize his banner rising…and have you bow to it." Specks of spittle flew from her mouth in the intensity at which she spoke.

The clansmen responded to her assertiveness with looks of fearful disgust. Shalia purposefully let her words linger before continuing, turning to look Koshnem in the eye now.

They had done it. That fateful eve, something had awakened inside of them both.

An expression of great pride played on his face with his usual grin to match, like he was basking in her taking charge and Noraura crowning him finally. His hand was symbolically stained red with native blood and the flames of the fire backlit her now as she faced Koshnem. Gesturing toward him to take the floor, the corners of her own mouth twisted into a satisfied smirk.

"The new king of the Odonine makes himself known.”