12-07-2018, 03:29 PM
And in the darkened underpass I thought,
"Oh Satan, my chance has come at last!"
"Oh Satan, my chance has come at last!"
A chuckle slips from his lips, grating against her ears, but Valdis finds she enjoys the coarseness of it. It doesn’t spring from his joyously as mother’s laughter nor is it the proud chuckle of her father. Beneath the layers of the gesture there is a lingering darkness and a sense of foreboding. Sinner’s reasons for chuckling may very well be different from her own. That, she keeps in mind.
As young as she is, she isn’t an idiot.
But she, admittedly, enjoys having fun sometimes.
”Maybe I’ll take my chances,” she drawls with a casual lift of her brow, challenging him and his instinctual prowess while exhibiting her own. Valdis will never cower beneath his intense stare and sharp tongue; she won’t always fold to his whims immediately. Whether it’s from an inherited stubbornness or being a ‘little princess,’ it cannot be certain. She revels in it, not being his rag doll. It would destroy the mystique. Untouchable, she suddenly labels herself as her blue eyes rise to meet his face. He will want to overpower her, to own her – does he already? – and to have her shudder beneath his weight. Tempting, she muses, only because his offer is still hanging in the space between them, hesitating, but Valdis doesn’t pounce on it – or him. She bides her time only to be met with his wolfish grin and silence.
There isn’t an official offer, no inclination that he will sweep her away from the meadow and into his spider web. She could be like the other women – those who prance and press their bodies into him, yearning to be taken away.
But she doesn’t. She won’t.
Valdis tips her head and glances briefly toward the treeline at the far end. Her mind reels but her face betrays nothing, not yet. Is she a free woman? The concept is vague, but her body remains untouched except for the area on her neck to which he pressed his muzzle (the skin there still seems to burn – pleasurable? Miserable?). Assuming that she is, Valdis takes a slow – almost unwilling – step away from the hellhound. ”Well, King Sinner, perhaps I will go home then,” her voice is heroin, drawing him in, sinking its addictive nature into his blood, ”back to Hyaline or the Cove.” She says it flatly, without a teasing tone despite how her mind conjures a want for him to pursue, to block her way and admit that he wants her closer and to not leave him alone in the meadow.
But he is Sinner. He has his own agenda whether it is with or without her, but she can hope.
But then a strange fear gripped me and I just couldn't ask.
@[Sinner]