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

04-11-2017, 10:30 AM

B e l o v e d

The wicked one does not like the sneering wench, wet behind the ears and naïve of mind, much more than she likes the Sun, or the petulant mortals who bid her do as they will, as if she is not more than they are, by her very nature alone. Narrowing her eyes hatefully, nostrils draconic and shivering as they drink in the air, eager to draw the perfume of blood in, her tittering laughter becomes the bark of a wild scoff when the babe prattles on in some foreign tongue.

Unconcerned with the fire that rises around her at the child’s bidding, the undying one lifts her crown, and cackles, her ears never lifting, and her haunting gaze unwavering.

You have claimed to reclaim, self-ignorant brat.

"Pandering fools and witless children hide behind words others cannot understand. They make meaningless sound and feed that small, impotent rage, their words like diminutive knives, their eyes the sheathes…" she trails off, her giggles becoming her only sounds for a while, her gaze occasionally growing unnervingly distant, whilst unblinkingly holding fast to the appaloosa princess, "We are a sword, the mouth lined with wet, hungry teeth. You contradict yourself, core brittle as glass. Should we strike you, to test? Would you shatter, as your actions imply?"

Stepping towards Kiada, Beloved’s head lowers menacingly, and the demoness’ tail strikes her sides in slow, cadent arcs, her crown occasionally tilting with peculiar twitches towards the right, or left. Her tongue, glistening, touches her lips sensually as she giggles, and speaks, as if the slow trickle of blood which marks the golden breast of the filly is already upon her mouth.

"How have you died?" inquires the witch, stopping, aiming to trace her horn along the outline of the youth’s chest, her gaze fluttering down from those pale, icy eyes, to the flesh barring the precious beat of her heart from the wicked one’s visage, "Beloved thinks never. Perhaps it is time you tried."

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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