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White-hot and searing like super-heated metal Alix is blasting onto the Ether with all the ferocity and brutality of a raging werewolf, a screaming, unsatisfied energy surging around her as she connects and makes contact with Brett, miraculously focusing enough in her obvious rage to keep from blistering out in all directions.
We have a problem. A really fucking huge problem.
Crackles of static herald her entrance to the already crowded and charged Ether and there's a heavy rustle of a sigh as she arrives followed by a near-groan of frustration, a faded flash of fingers raking roughly through blonde hair. Alix is no stranger to the Ether, she's been using it most of her life, as and when she pleases, usually bluntly and forcefully, but tonight seems to have caught her off guard.
What the fuck is going on with all this traffic? It's grumbled, a pseudo-growl that would do a therianthrope proud. How the fuck are we supposed to "rest up" with all this noise? To others it might sound heartless, cold, but this is Alix when she can't do anything. It pisses her off, and that anger is bitter across the Ether, like alcohol past its best with just a touch of acrid, pungent smoke.
With a crackle like a sudden current of electricity Alix hits the Ether, bold and brash as always, no hesitation or caution, and certainly no manners. Not even her 'sister' is accounted that, unfortunately, but she's probably used to it by now. There is, however, a sort of questioning element to her connection, it's almost like she's fidgeting, fiddling with a blade as she sits and reaches out to the one person in the world she trusts outside of herself.
What do you think this is about?