everybody wants to rule the world

My ears slide back as my face sours, twisting skeletal features in disgust at her words imbued with sarcasm, sticking out my tongue for added comedic effect. "Ew, get your sappy feelings away from me." I wrinkle my nose a little, teasing a smile as I look up at her with bubblegum glittering sheepishly. It's comforting to settle back into something familiar, to find something I can remember, something positive that clawed its way out of my hellish childhood. The quick, sharp tongued insults never did hurt the way they should have, neither Oizys or I were soft enough to let that happen, even at such tender ages we faced one another head on with insults that struck deep. And every time, we would always come back for more, never tiring of the constant banter that filled the air between us; it was a relationship I'd learned to enjoy, in the fleeting moments spent teasing and taunting one another, mutually accepting that there would never be an end to this childish game. At least, not in the foreseeable future.

Unintentionally, I cling to her presence, to the familiarity that follows in her heavy steps; seeing her reminds me of back before I became a slut so distant, so cold and resilient. Before my emotions stowed away in some hidden pit that I'll never find, before my mother left me behind, left a husk of whatever brilliant child I may have been had she not littered my body with deep gashes and filled my mind with ghastly threats and absolute terror. I'm still grasping at that childhood I never had, at the youth and innocence that were swept out from under me too quickly, reaching out for something I'll never have. So I replace it with sheepish smiles and sly grins, winks and flirtatious laughs sent towards appealing men, hiding the curiosity, the interest in the world around me as it falls apart, hiding the childish ignorance I refuse to let go of.

"If there's a will, there's a way." I shrug nonchalantly, grinning at the obvious disgust finding it's way onto her dark features and dripping from her words, snickering at her comment about my pain tolerance. Unfortunately, pain has always been a prevalent part of my life, considering that it was a constant throbbing, oozing presence in my childhood; somewhere along the way, my body numbed, my mind forgot that physical pain was a thing at all, dulled by the exposure to so much gut wrenching hurt when my mother got too angry.

There's a soft and teasing oooh that comes from my lips when she asks (more like demands) me to give her good dick suggestions, an over exaggerated face of surprise crawling onto my features as I look at her. Her? Having sex? I pity whatever man (or woman) even tries, I can only see that going very
badly. "Someone's been doing some side hoeing, is that what I'm hearing? How do you have even time between being a cold-hearted witch and man eating demon?" I tease, eyes sliding over her bulky figure as though trying to think of just how any man would mount some distant relative of the giants, it must be tough for her to find a good fit. "Unfortunately, most of my men aren't looking for anything that might bite their dick off in a blink, they usually look for someone a little more... submissive. And knowing you, you probably try to mount your men." I tsk quietly, shaking my head at her while the smile spreads over my lips as the insults keep rolling off my tongue, one by one without hesitance. "Or after me, they never go back." A wolfish grin shadows my macabre features as I make the comment, implying that I'm bending men to my will, crushing their toxic masculinity that makes them so sickeningly straight, leading them down a winding road of strictly dick. All in a day's work.

Her magic, masking herself as any animal whose blood she drinks, sounds pretty fucking sick, ears perking up as she describes it; the shitty part, where it hurts as her bones crunch and compress, her tissue twists and contorts and her body reshapes itself to fit the guise of the animal, sounds awful. "What other animals have you become?" It's intriguing to hear of her magical expeditions, where her magic produces rather wild end products, from her spark magic to this shift, it's all particularly interesting. What do I do? Shoot rocks and get people horny. I don't really need magic to do the latter, but it happens anyway. And with that in mind, a wicked thought comes to place, hanging before me, an opportunity presented upon a golden platter. "Ever tried it on another horse before?" I turn to my side, motioning my head to offer up a tantalizing piece of myself, mischievous glinting in bubblegum, hidden intentions shining beneath a layer of excitement and foolishness. "Do you wanna?" It's a stupid proposal, but I know exactly what will happen, muscles twitching as I eagerly wait (take the bait).

"Talk."