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Pele holds her head high, shoulders back. Her thick, black hair cascades down her back like lava flowing down a mountain. She holds fire in her hands and her eyes reflect the power of it, of her.
She whispers to the wind, and it plants fragrant flowers of red, white, and gold in her hair, weaving and braiding them into the ridges of her voluminous locks, creating a royal crown around the temple of her head.
Mother of the islands, Pele sits on her throne of precious stone, spinning silk of magma for the birds to add to their nests.