I'll dance in the light of a freezing sun</style>

and sing you the tales of the burning sea</style>

She is not kept waiting for long- good, for while patience is a virtue our angel boasts, it is not a skill she enjoys exercising. Tact, seduction, deception, smiles: these are by far the girl's favored skills, the masks she wears with such serene perfection it is a challenge for even she to discern the reality underneath. Angel of Sin and Queen of the Damned, the Seraph is radiant even in this dim nighttime light, and the curl of her lips grows softer and warm as the dark form of Illynx flows into her view.

Beneath the lady's gold scrutiny our angel stands tall, a silver, sterner, stronger thing, she thinks with a smirk that never reaches her face. Patient, she waits as Illynx takes her time, wondering what the mare wants, what she sees, what she counts. A single stark scar on the seraph's pure hide, but few notice that in favor of her crown; fewer still know the two are a pair, that our actress has earned the title she wears through hardship and blood and the death of a king. She lets them keep ignorance unless necessity knocks; better to appear the dainty damsel and counted as less, than the threat and the mettle that flow through her veins.

Our actress blinks as the Lady speaks - at last, thinks the Seraph, and she tilts her head in a gesture few would recognize as a mocking bow, sapphire gaze never leaving her captive's face. Respect, admiration; those who know Zuriel know she feels it naught, that her only allegiance is to Cinnrou's blood - but this mare does not know Zuriel, and perhaps never will. Carefully she takes in Illynx's short words, the question just bordering a tone of demand, forward, no-nonsense, belying the garishly elaborate appearance this gilded bitch adorns. With the rise of her head comes the chime of her tones, enchanting and bell-like, well-trained and pure. "My Lady," she offers, a test of the water, "I am newly-made a Phantom of the Basin. I hoped to learn more of our herd's standing from you, that I might better make myself valuable." Not that I really need your help for that - but the girl does not add her final thought. What she really wants to know is the dynamic of the herd, who holds power and who does not; for despite the obvious fact that this creature was far inferior to her Reaper King, Zuriel knows Deimos will not be forthcoming with information, or conversation. Her brother no doubt holds the same opinion she does, that most others are either useless or useful only to an extent, and while she supports that view, it will not help her now. Still, better to dance around the point, to ask how the Basin fares in the world before diving into the intricacies of the herdland itself.

She continues to smile in the light of the moon, a soft, inoffensive thing; but intelligence flashes behind starlit eyes, and her body shifts from its heightened stance into one of less regalia and more confidence. She now knows Illynx to be somewhat no-nonsense, and it is such a guise she moves to don, slowly and carefully, with the practice of a maiden from the silver screen.

[ no need to tag :3 ]