The wind could be brutal, and merciless. Mirja was stood in a small part of the Wasteland where restraint was never taught, and super-storms ravaged the hundred and fifty miles of land. It laid waste to this little corner of the world, and within this realm of death, such that not even Hollows walked, it was King. And Kings were inspiring, at least to Mirja. She could feel the raw power, fury, and rage of this King. It hated everything, most of all itself. A mere shadow of what it once was, the storm raged endlessly, striking down all that was living with a fury that only something that had lost everything could match.
Mirja felt slight kinship with the Storm. And she knew she was either getting into crazy levels of her Slip-Stream, or she was just straight-up going crazy, because she could feel the emotion of the Storm. She could feel how it felt, could empathize with something that was just wind, and rain, and lightning. Her wolfish ears could hear almost-words shrieked by the wind, as it took her presence there as a personal offense, and lashed her with all it could muster. Were she a normal girl, she would have been blown off her feet, her skin pelted with rain hard enough to make each droplet feel like a stone.
But she was not a normal girl. She was Mirja Eeola, Wolf of Eden. Alone in the world, nobody came close to understanding her. Some came near, others came near and then kept on going right past her, jumping out of the window and splattering on the floor below. But regardless of people, she would always have The Wind, the beautiful metaphysical yet physical concept of the air that surrounded everyone. She had become aware of it when she started her Slip-Stream work. And from there, it became an intrinsic part of her. She reached out to it, and felt The Wind here, a wild, primal creature under the servitude of this King. It drove it's subjects mad in it's own madness. She could hardly control it, but exerted force of Will and Heart to bring it under her own dominance. The Wind felt her for a moment, and then relaxed, as much as the madness would allow. She felt sorry for this storm. It had not asked to become like this.
A song branched into her mind, and she sung to it softly. "Outside in the cold distance, A wild cat did growl. Two riders were approaching And the wind began to howl" her words seemed to bring the attention of the Storm to her, full force. A gale picked up around her, and ripped her her clothes, tearing off her Shihakusho in moments, drenching her in moments.
'I've stayed quiet, but...what are you doing?' Hvit asked. Mirja smiled in reply, planting her feet against the storm's attempts to screw her over, and preparing The Wind around her.
"Euthanasia" she replied, catching a microsecond break in the storm and soaring forward, her Mature Slip Stream carrying her to mach four in a handful of seconds. The instinctive, creative part of her mind thought some Hoho training would be needed later to perfect how she took off. Call it, Lightfoot. That was a cool name.
The rest of Mirja was preparing to take down this ill King, slid him from his throne so he could rest. And it was probably going to hurt because of the way she was planning to do it, something she had never done, and it has just popped into her head while she was running. Darting towards the center of the storm, she stopped in an instant, three thousand miles an hour, brought down to nothing within the space of a second. The momentum was then bridled by Mirja and launched upwards, a kick of such power and passion it rocked upwards, smashing the rain out of it's way, until it hit the cloudbank. Once there, it broke the cloud in two, splitting it down the middle and then blasting it across the whole sky. Rain continued to fall for a short while, but cleared up quickly, and it became peaceful again. Mirja had killed The King, and returned peace to this place.
"I hope he is reborn atop mountains, where he can blow with power and presence" She muttered, before turning and leaving.