.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
02-29-2016, 01:41 PM
|
Isopia in places deep with roots entwined i live among you, well disguised His word for her sends shivers down her spine, despite her deepest intentions to appear aloof. She hates how readily her body wants to submit. It urges her to lay down the weapons that she carries to defend herself against him, to become herself again, and to fall against him - into him - once more. Is it really so bad, if you are not the only one? A small voice asks. It is tentative and timid, and yet her whole body seems to amplify its suggestion. But Isopia’s dragon-teeth crush the thought in her mouth before anything can come of it. Because yes, it would be too terrible. I am a demigoddess, she wants to scream, despite her utter lack of vanity or pride. I am not another. I am too good for that. She doesn’t believe the words - mostly because despite her godly heritage, she feels that it is her mind that elevates her, rather than her blood, but the thoughts do help. They might not be reasons for her, but they should be reasons for him. And ah! Now that she is thinking about it, fury rises like bile in the back of her throat, clogging away the soft thoughts of pressing herself against him. How could he not want only me - given who I am? If for that reason alone he could - should - dispel the others..! Besides, she had already taken her vow to eliminate her love for him, and sealed it with the blood of their child. A child he would never even knew existed. No, I was waiting for you. I, uh, made you a....something The words make her blood run cold. She doesn’t want to hear it - doesn’t want to know what it is he has made for her. She isn’t sure that she is strong enough not to melt before him, despite the fact that she knows she has to be. I could fly away- she thinks to herself. She’s done it before - to him, and to many others. But no, despite how easily that would get her out of this, she wants to stay. Even if staying means this forced facade of indifference and emotional vacancy, she wants it. She still loves him, after all. Her eyes fall upon the two small figurines. Immediately she notices the detail, the effort that must have been required, the work which must have been shared. Her golden dragon-eyes move to Vadir and Verzes, and for a moment she cares more about their perception of her, than Volterra’s. >> Thank - you - for - help << She offered, her words broken and childish sounding. However that level of openness and lack of competency completely disappeared as her gaze fell upon Volterra once again. "They’re sweet-" She said, forcing her tone back into its neutral cadence as she stretched forward a scaled arm to grab the Isopia figurine, while mentally she grabbed onto a dagger- "Have you made these for your children before? They must all adore having them to play with-" - and plunged it into his gut. Her voice was casual, but her eyes burned holes into the figure she clutched. She couldn’t even really see it behind the haze of fury that distorted her vision - but she had done what she had intended: she had let her words slip casually and carelessly from her mouth, aloof, uncaring, but knowing. I know about your children, and I care so little for you that their existence doesn’t ever bother me. Or perhaps it was more like I am so sophisticated that your progeny don’t even register on my radar. Or even more simply, Kids. I know you have them. |
@Volterra
