Matter is only a highly condensed form of energy. Each bundle of muscle in Visenya's being, only proved that. Her skin was, though dichotomous. Her limbs shone tawny, muscular. Yet her hair was white. Wavy, gorgeous and wild. In-containable. Visenya's eyes were round and sharp. Piercing. Not beautiful, not ugly either. Bordering on fiery, fearful. Her gaze, vigilant, ever powerful. She had quite the smoker's lips, chocolate brown. She had a blunt nose. Unlike on her sister. Who was quite the cynosure, a bummer for her loser lovers. Lover losers. Visenya was a warrior. Her legs were agile, her focus precise. Her heart was bursting with courage, and soul overpowering. Visenya could tear across wind and water. Glide on land. Unlike her sister, who was an inspiration for art, Visenya was a poet herself. After untiring days in the sun and wind, she would scribble, potions of intelligence on paper. About new worlds, extinct birds. Brave women of adventure. Some nights, Visenya would also write about love. The ones that she had lost, and the ones that her sister had stolen. On those stormy, moonless nights, Visenya strode into the rooms of some of those unforgiven men. And then, became quite the seductress.