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Description
A royal blue dress sashays through curtains of fog, dense with forlorn memories, clinging to and shrouding her from further pains; The Woman Scorned. The fabric entwining her: power, passion, pain; grounded to skin pale as the radiating moon. Possessing all the natural beauty and destructive force of environmental catastrophes, the right tug can unravel her world, and potentially everything in a several mile radius. For her it never merely rains, it must always pour. A flash illuminates fury glaring out of moist eyes, revealing the stability of a compass at magnetic north. The ground will quake, cities will burn, winds will savage the land, and tides will erode civilization, but nothing can temper her scorn. The wrath of nature, the sin of man, evoked upon her every command.