give my worst to the curse

the Rift

[OPEN] give my worst to the curse

Beloved Posts: 121

Aurora Basin Soldier atk: 8.5 | def: 10 | dam: 3

Mare :: Unicorn :: 14.3 :: Appears 6 HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE

Orphan :: Ragdoll Cat :: None Bunnie

03-30-2017, 10:02 AM

B e l o v e d

The girl, for that is what she is – young, doe-eyed, her body and mind equally small, and subject to the mold into which it is pressed – looks up with frosty eyes, their depths alive with a light that had not flooded the woman starting back at her for many, many years. Born twisted, as fate bid her, the black iron had only rusted and warped further, until what remained was a festering, unrecognizable mass of shards and bends, which laughs, a haunting song, in remark to the stupid question the babe gives the wind first.

Run, almost beckons the demoness of her discovered, flame-embellished rabbit, but for the chime of laughter which had, momentarily, joined her own, a rapturous lure for a beast unchained, and the creatures themselves, dancing with fervor along the back of the black-masked girl. Though she does not reply, merely stares, her laughter silenced suddenly for a thought which leaps away no sooner than it arrives, the damned damsel is all the more haunting in stillness, her two-toned gaze narrowing on the young one as she continues to speak.

She comes, as she is invited, but would do as she pleased, no matter what the girl had to say about it. Sidling, curves swaying, the diminutive witch slips towards the Obelisk, her lips gently brushing its smooth face. Her breath leaves a misty half ring that fades with each inhalation, widening as she exhales, and after the third rebirth of this peculiar, damp moon, she pulls her crown away, immediately disgusted with the whole charade, and the girl especially, who had beguiled her into looking foolish in the first place.

The Obelisik feels of stone: cold, and uninspiring. Her God is not here, in the obsidian!

With a sudden cackle and a lashing strike of her blade, the black-hearted one aims to merely frighten her, not actually land the blow. If it does, however, Beloved has little pity for the slow, or weak, and certainly has no friendship to give anyone, much less those she’d as soon leave to dust and decay.

"Dreaming child," she condemns of Kiada’s words, her scowl in odd contrast to the babbling giggles that stammer about her phrases, "it feels as rock does. Do you not even know what power is?"

[ OOC: Oh look old and grumpy and rather disappointed its just a rock obviously Kiada's fault ahahaha ]

The ball fell in my hand, it sang
in the closed fist: Open Open
Behold a gift designed to kill.

Image & Table by Me
Quote from Keith Douglas' How to Kill
@Kiada

Tag Beloved, please!

Feel free to attack her with physical or magical violence at your own risk. ;D

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