beloved

Rabbits run, and the rabbit tells of their holes and then scurries away.

The silver rim of her colored eye narrows in hesitant lust for the chase, the only pantomime in her current position that which holds her in place and does not follow the red girl into the trees, the one who reeks of discomfort and fear. A low, growling sound escapes her tight grasp on her hunger, unnatural gaze never breaking from the departure of the frightened one.

The snarl chokes into her sputtering giggles again, white tail swishing behind her as she takes a slow, languid pace forward, her horn low and the tip angled to reflect the light dangerously, the fae’s own snort of hesitation drowned out in the sound. Her ears flatten suddenly, her nostrils draconic as she drinks deep the intoxicating scent that radiates off the painted one. "Order?" her mouth is smiling, but her eyes are frigid and glistening, her voice is brittle as glass dropped in liquid nitrogen breaking into a thousand pieces in slow motion; the glass becomes streaked in blood as she takes another step forward, "I know order. The frightened run and the bold give chase."

Her giggles die, her smile vanishes. "You’re running…"

Her ears still cling to her skull, white tail swaying with the twitchy anticipation of a cat crouched low to the grass, her eyes on a bird. With a painful slowness, she looks back to the dark mare as she remembers her presence, the fat one who placidly watches it all, taking the strangeness of the blasphemed one with as much grace as another cat, waiting to see the outcome of the hunt. To her, she shares her smile, as she once shared it with a Warlord before he had been burned to nothingness with the rest.

And she forgets that the rabbit is even there, as she focuses on… Sialia.

Why does fear streak the air? It makes this one so much more delicious to gaze upon, a proud ebony figure in the midst of terror.

Licking her Cheshire lips, the ivory damsel turns to face the blue horned one and stands her few paces off grinning madly in delight and a forgotten blood lust, her skin nearly trembling with the intensity of her deranged emotions.

"Beloved."

As if it’s a key that answers everything and can be deciphered into her full intent behind it, the woman strides off into the woods in the direction that Sialia had appeared from, a glance given to the other fear streaked path that she thinks a ghost left on before she got here, and another back to the one who had not vanished in the folds of her madness, urging her to take her to this… Basin.

die like God, on the cover of time