Storm

There's an odd scent in the air whenever a storm rages outside which somehow reminds the Mad Hatter of her Lord's twin. Odd, given his fiery nature, given the way he loathes the rain pouring down to the ground, hates the wet. Then again, perhaps that's why.

She's always thought him most beautiful when angry, golden eyes darkening till they turn to vicious, biting rays of blinding emotion. There's no troublesome thoughts then, when he acts on instinct rather than on what might be best for his family, rather than on what will distinguish him from his twin most. He becomes raw power then, shining and gorgeous beyond anyone she's seen.

He is, after all, the child of Light.

The storm doesn't dim his light, though he shudders from its grasp, glares menacingly at its darkness. He faces it with the same ferocity he shows the world, that wrath born from a brilliant flame kept in the shadows too long. It makes his radiance more intoxicating, magnetic.

It is the strongest aphrodisiac she knows.