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05-01-2017, 10:44 AM
As he dances away, she remains, her haunting eyes held on his aging face, a taunting peel of laughter rising from her breast, with heady inhalations and dreamy sighs entwined among the bells of her madness. Her desire, still rampant, sends her black blood rushing, her fetid heart throbbing (among other things), but as the old man sweeps up his slithering companion and flees the promise of the white wolf’s love, that want ebbs, and eases. Fear is not attractive, to such a woman as she, at least not in such a manner as to rouse images of his body pressed in upon hers in that intimate dance. No, as he scurries, his sloped angles and skeletal ridges draped in aged, leathery skin, she sees no longer a man, but a sheep. The saliva builds in the bottom of her mouth. Her tongue eases along the pink softness of her lips. ‘You’re insane,’ he tells her, like she does not know. With a barking ream of laughter that seems more amused, or perhaps even proud of such a title, the wicked one bobs her head low, her rapier angled in such a way (paired with the malevolent gleam of her eyes, which are purely oxymoronic to the capricious bounce of her giggles) that there is a promise of violence, if he does not soon continue his retreat. Her right fore drags slowly across the powder laden stone, slowly, a serpentine line, that repeats, as if it does this without her volition, as she answers. "And you’re old," retorts the wench, her laughter a brook, and her stare a peculiar, unbroken line which watches his escape. [ OOC: Thank you for the wonderfully weird thread <3 ] |
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@Albrecht
Feel free to attack her with physical or magical violence at your own risk. ;D
