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07-30-2014, 08:52 PM
'Misery loves company.' The response that her words garnered wasn't something that Rhiannon was terribly surprised to hear. This dark mistress with detached golden eyes didn't seem the sentimental type, nor much of a social butterfly, but that worked in her favor. The Brindled Devil didn't always need a reason to associate herself with a creature that was pleasant to look at... And pleasant was, perhaps, a terrible understatement for this nighttime wanderer. And hot damn, if she didn't love the sound of her voice! A breathless beauty, a siren in disguise... Oh, the striped soldier's loins tickled, and her pink tongue roamed the inside of her mouth to collect the saliva before she became a horrendously unsavory drooling mess. That would make for poor introductions. A rueful grin tugged the corners of Nonnie's dark lips upwards, causing the warm-gold and chilly-silver of her keen eyes to glimmer mischievously in the sparse moonlight. The midnight siren continues on, and Rhiannon can't get enough. Briefly her mind drifts to how she would say her name, the way that her lips may form the syllables of the title that the horned lady had been dubbed with as a youth... The soldier shifts her weight where she stood, hooves crunching the sparse snow that lay beneath them, and her tail flicks idly to the side. "I do, ma chérie," Rhiannon answers swiftly, her cheshire grin remaining, "I am Rhiannon, daughter of Crowley and Arah, but you may call me Nonnie, if you'd rather. And may I get your name?" |
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