Disclaimer: Storm belongs to Marvel. The winds belong to themselves.

Kael and Melly are at fault for this. Though, mostly Kael.

Midmorning Storm on a Beach
by Ana Lyssie Cotton

She stood on the wind, barefoot as it danced around her. Tugging at her, begging for play. Rain slithered down in a dance of light and spray as the wind spiralled. Tugs at her hair, caresses on her legs, the wind called for her.

And she revelled in it. She had not called the wind, instead, it came to her, creeping as an old lover, ever-mindful of the need to tease her control. To break her free, just for that moment when things went wild. And the skys became the heavens and thunder became the seas.

The wind chuckled as she tried to keep her limbs covered. What need had she for these earthly things? She who could dance as the only the wind could. With a low laugh, it ripped them free, leaving her skin bare to the rain that danced across it.

Leaves came gusting by, wrapping around and under her, giddy as they flew in the wind. Then they floated away, leaving her to hang naked in the sky.

Sunlight came through the clouds, then, cavorting around the rain, producing colours and arcs of rainbow all around. The wind slowed down, so as not to disturb the moment. Then it picked up again and the clouds swirled back, obscuring the sun, locking it out until it was time again to bow to it.

A line of lightning lanced down through the darkening sky, and she danced around it, letting it caress her fingertips as she went by. It sizzled, then was followed by the sonic boom of a kettledrum. More slivers of light followed the first, and she slowly slipped away from them towards the ocean she'd seen from so far away before.

Looking down on it, she could see the drops hitting the sand one at a time, and then splashing back up into the air. A waltz of water, it seemed, each drop in it's own place, as they whirled about. The sand began to churn, becoming patterned with the dance, as a dance master might mark his floor with chalk feet.

She chuckled at the image of a man in a tuxedo leading the drops in their dance. But the tuxedo was too stately, and it changed to a woman in a leotard and scarves. But this, too, felt too civilised, and the woman metamorphosed into herself, naked and free.

The air seemed to giggle around her as she joined the dance, turning and whirling, sometimes following, sometimes leading. And then it began to slow down, as the sunlight began to reassert itself. For an instant, she resisted, trying to keep her friends there.

But they laughed and slipped around her, caressing and touching, before leaving to dance elsewhere.

They left, leaving a suddenly bereft Weather Goddess kneeling on a beach, at midday. Sunlight streamed around her, the sand steaming as the water that had played with it evaporated.

Ororo Munroe sighed in exasperation. How was she to explain her state to the others?

No matter, the wind seemed to chuckle around her. We have provided. She blinked as a large purple beach towel drifted lazily into view, dropping a few feet away. Ororo carefully shook it out, then wrapped it around her stately form and began walking up the beach.

The wind gave a last teasing tug to her hair, then skittered away, leaving only the sand and the sea. And one lone woman, content.