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02-01-2014, 09:04 PM
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The smoky Mongrel flits about dark ankles, the slither of fur over short-cropped hair a most sinister sound, a reverberating hum of cool passions and heated affairs, the clash of shadow on broken hearts. Wolfish, cynical lips twitch into a slanderously vile grin, vermilion eyes glisten and gleam with a malefic light; the vulpine creeps away, detaching from polished onyx heels, liquid shadow slipping over soil and sod. Luminescence wavers and quavers over sooty skin, diamond-like points of brilliant silver, threading the fox in a most magnificent pale garb, reflecting and refracting off narrow muzzle and delicate paws, twitching tail-tips and parted jaws. Confutatis' skull twists, deleterious eyes coming to rest on an intruder of the crystalline sanctum, compliments rolling off a tongue to nothing but the inanimacy of the precious, sparkling gems. Nares flare in elated mockery, audits twist and pin to matted mane- such a pretty fool, speaking to the clairvoyant objects of which did not hear or see. Flippant and idle, the couple make way to the balletic filly, intruder upon their lurking and surreptitious skulking; the willowy femme with such a delightfully innocuous chuckle. They melt from the shadows as if they were one with such darkness, peel away from it, darker than dark, oblivious and oblique, foul to the very depths of their shriveled hearts and corrupted souls. Together they wear such mockingly conniving grins, painted ghoulishly on their warped faces, and among the brightness of the cavernous hall they are ominous portents. "They do not hear you," she says, her voice a thin and vile thing, foully smug and laden with lofty airs. "That which glistens and glitters so transparently are worthless and... dispensable." she lingers pleasurably over the last word, mirthless smirk creeping across the half of her tortuously scarred face. |
