|
Teeth glint in a scurrilous smile at the nod of the mare’s head; foam bubbles and drips from those onyx lips, scar tissue thick around her muzzle. Her ears pivot forwards, listening to the sigh of braids rubbing together, writhing and squirming over one another in the graceful movements of the silver unicorn; and she exhales softly, tension sliding free of her unconsciously locked muscles. It is a difficult thing to think of this petite bird of harming her.
Yet she cannot help but note the mare does not seem afraid of news of the unhealthy and the undead- indeed, she seems inquisitive, rather than afraid, and Confutatis feels the first movements of excitement in her oil black chest.
Will she be the next to join the Regime?
The stranger answers in a voice spun of silk and sugar, velvet and the tumble of a stream beneath a sheet of ice. Eyes meet hers; earthen soil against copper gold, and for a moment the succubus queen seems to struggle internally- she is WOLF, this girl prey, and no fawn dare looks the feral canines of the woods in the eyes- and her ears slant and pin to skull. Yet her annoyance is short-lived; for what happens next, but a seizure, a fit, a stiffening of leg and neck and shoulder and chest. Sibilant seer (how she detests those who commune with gods), or lying hoax? There is undeniable truth to her candied declarations, honesty speaking of queens and power and courts- her future, Confutatis wonders? Is it the prophet’s future she declares, or the hellion’s, malignant omen of death and cruelty? Audits tip forward in resulting eagerness, and there is a subtle lean as she arranges her balance forth- is there more to be heard? Eyes glint with a wolf’s ambitious hunger (she wants truth, where is it?)
There is nothing but an anxious laugh bubbling from between those precious teeth. Is she to have wool pulled over her eyes? Or is this girl, virgin white, truly a soothsayer, an oracle, a diviner of the timelines?
Disappointed sigh curls into the air, plumes of silver to drift in the cold, yet her greed is soon to be satisfied by subtle flattery and easy compliments. Powerful aura- indeed, what is her aura but not mighty? She arranges a ghoulish smile, forgetting to be wary of traitorous beasts of manipulative intent, consumed by artful handling. “I am pleased to meet you, Sheba,” Confutatis says, her voice falling short of cheerful but certainly a slight more positive.
“We should get a move on- just in case,” and she turns, scarred hips swinging, authorities and dominating, not checking over shoulder for a follower snow-white; “I am curious to know, are you interested in taking up residence in a herd during your stay? Or do you prefer being alone?"
CONFUTATIS
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
⇒
I Came in Like a Wrecking Ball [Regime]
