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05-30-2013, 07:38 AM
 You're busy dying if you're living in the past
A part of Crowley had been expecting yet another outburst from the forces that ruled from above, yet it seemed this time it would all be different. This time he was not haughty with his request, and did not demand; he had asked with respect, and almost as soon as the words had brushed past his lips, something strange began to happen. A gentle, comforting wind tousled his mane as it created a whirlwind before him, quickly taking on the form of the figure he had called upon. Crowley had seen many a ladies in his days, but the violet mare standing before him now was a different story entirely; after all, she was a God. Beyond beautiful, the brindle fought to keep his eyes from lingering for too long on her lithe form. From the way she stood to her eerie, piercing eyes, and even to the very air around her, it was painfully obvious just how different she was than any mortal. She was something to be feared and respected. It was only when he took notice of his skin prickling did he pause and focus his gaze on her own, exhaling another steady breath as he took in her words. Wasting no time, the Weaver lifted his head to it's natural set and spoke. "Thank you, Goddess," he said softly before carrying on, "I've come to ask your assistance in enhancing my curses. I wish for them to be more... devastating, for my foes." |
The Weaver's Workshop
HP: 45
