all that I believe in

[OPEN] all that I believe in

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549

Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5

Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT

Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie

01-20-2016, 12:36 AM (This post was last modified: 01-20-2016, 12:37 AM by Rikyn.)

Rikyn

That his laughter strokes against the grain inspires another mocking smile, more of the falsely warm sound rising into the autumnal air as she claims to have said nothing stupid, like someone perfectly stupid; that she then tries to leave is even more humorous. It’s all a great game, really, and that she shoots a withering dagger his way rather than the more sharply crafted blades she’d thrown before makes his smile all the broader (he simply can’t look ridiculous, anyway – he’s too good looking to be thrown astray by some shrub he’s too distracted to deal with at this time).

Still chuckling even as he notices the slow wander of her gaze, he cares very little for her audacious sexuality (but that it could play out to his advantage), the gears of his thoughts clicking together in perfectly maniacal rotation. If she is so distracted already, so soon in, he cannot help but focus more fully on the notion that she is malleable, like wet mud or soft clay. He wonders which.

One pools, filthy and wet, shapeless and cold. The other is of more use to him.

He allows his thoughts to pull him further, to let her voice fall again into the eeeeee of feminine bemoaning as soon as he hears a long draw of sarcasm steal away whatever she might have said that wasn’t annoying. He thinks of her among a gathering of pretty women, and the snow falling around them in thick white flakes, so thick that the crystalline shine of their structures is visible as they settle in her pale, moonlit mane; it seems fitting to picture her beneath starlight, the bones of hornless beneath her hooves, her tongue, gone...

Until he realizes there is a silence growing between them, the dreadful drone of her voice gone and replaced by the wind.

She is likely only mud, he considers.

"I already told you it was an accident," he answers glumly, a frown darkening his features at the displeasure of having to (as far as he’s concerned, anyway) repeat himself,"forever and fifteen years ago. Way to hold a grudge, seriously."

@Ki'irha