DRETCH
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| ... and from your lips she drew your hallelujah |
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There is no real reason for her to be out here, where the cold beckons from the void; shadows wrought in the fantastical and the supernatural. She has no affinity for darkness, takes no pleasure in the sting of winter’s kiss in her lungs and on her skin. Her tongue worries at the inside of her lip, calloused by the rub of her fang. At least, she thought that she had no affinity for darkness and its cloaked horrors. But here she is and there he (they) is and she cannot say why she does not turn and run … The temperature drops. Unsure whether it is him or otherwise, she shifts her weight, ears swiveling back and forth as the fog creeps in around them. It winds closer, no doubt answering his presence as it caresses him first. Like a flood of rats to their piper, it spills around her ankles with a clammy touch, and unbidden, her skin stretches and tingles as his smile grows. Her grey eyes dance with mischief at his reply, her legs giving to the pressure of the fog easily. She does not drop his gaze as she steps closer, her vision momentarily tunneling as the unnerving yellow of his eyes fills it. Blinking, she finds herself just within reach, her tail flicking once against her hocks. There is something animal, something visceral in her that wants to know this stranger – to pick him apart piece by piece, taste him; to patch him back together and make him hers. Power – akin to Set’s, only more lifeless – entwines his darkness like a purring feline, but it’s not that which attracts her, draws her to him like his fog and his shadows … To distract herself from these unsettling urges, she stretches her nose out as if to bump his own, stopping just short of actually touching him and withdrawing. Her pale eyes hang on his alien one again, an impish smile caught up on her refined features. “I think you’re just as hollow as they are. No more, no less.” She does not bother to elaborate who “they” are, instead denying herself and stepping away from him with an ease belying her suddenly thundering heart. Ducking her head, she squints, weighing him. “Disappointing, really,” she laughs, the sound softer than one might expect. He is no doubt dangerous - it oozes from him like a sickness, and there is something off about him, but his eeriness is nearly lost on her. Spawned by the worst, raised by the worst (at least, as far as she can tell), it is not his darkness that has her masking her disquiet, but rather the promises it holds and the way they beckon to her … |
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jamie OOC – Apologies for the change in point of view, still trying to knock the rust off!