04-18-2016, 02:47 PM
Padma
snakes among sweet flowers do creep
A wry smile dances along her plaster colored mouth, ending in delicate curves where they did part. It was delicious to hear what she wanted to, when she wanted to, that never got old.
Even still the agreement hangs like honey from his oddly shaped tongue and if she were a cat a deep throated purr would rumble within her. As it is she is not, instead settling for a watchful stare, waiting to strike a victim- else deter an opponent. Elysium is really neither of those things, simply a convenient little freak show for the serpentine mare to bask under. Something familiar and relatable in an otherwise dreary, disappointing day.
It was far past due for their departure, she had given too much lead in her quests to see the boy to greatness. Perhaps she had even held him in too high of a regard but special things had always taken special precedence to Padma. Lesser things always went shunned or unwanted, that awful speckled boy was a fine example of such a fate and she couldn’t really say she felt sorry. Not without lying of course but Padma had never shied away from a lie either.
Snakes rarely tend to do that you know.
No apologies would leave her for her sinful vanity, though she doubted he expected anything as such from her. The twist of his head leaves her to face one unadorned earhole, while tickling pillars bob above her skull like a fan above an overheated goddess. Maybe once she would dare touch them, nibble teasingly at the feathery fine feelers but just how delicate the appendages were she had no inkling. Though his form was chiseled deep within her memory, the logistics of it were as foreign to her as any other. Of course that wouldn’t do but some things take time and gentle persuasion.
A strong word
She snorts, clearly amused that he would deem the word too harsh. Nonsense, it was disgusting. The endless rays of sunshine, the too sweet clover, vegetation that slowly turned brittle in the winter as if the life and vibrancy simply could not be sucked from it. It was all too good, too sweet, too cookie-cutter perfection for her and she damn well would spit on its very existence. “Hardly. It is foul.” A decidedness to her observations. “Not foul in a good way mind you. It’s too square and happy and I’ve had enough.”
A quick flick of her tail, not minding where it went or who it smacked in its toss. Though in the end he is really agreeing with her, though outright he does not deface the Gates good name, deep down he had to at least feel the bitterness she held for it. Right?
“Oh good then, I knew you were a man to see sense.” Brightly her mood changes, as it often did when she somehow got her way. “C’mon Ely, we’ll have fun on the way too. My treat.” A nibble of her own placed gently near his listening earhole, with a wicked giggle to pass her sickly tender lips. The ‘treat’ was all too certain.
Even still the agreement hangs like honey from his oddly shaped tongue and if she were a cat a deep throated purr would rumble within her. As it is she is not, instead settling for a watchful stare, waiting to strike a victim- else deter an opponent. Elysium is really neither of those things, simply a convenient little freak show for the serpentine mare to bask under. Something familiar and relatable in an otherwise dreary, disappointing day.
It was far past due for their departure, she had given too much lead in her quests to see the boy to greatness. Perhaps she had even held him in too high of a regard but special things had always taken special precedence to Padma. Lesser things always went shunned or unwanted, that awful speckled boy was a fine example of such a fate and she couldn’t really say she felt sorry. Not without lying of course but Padma had never shied away from a lie either.
Snakes rarely tend to do that you know.
No apologies would leave her for her sinful vanity, though she doubted he expected anything as such from her. The twist of his head leaves her to face one unadorned earhole, while tickling pillars bob above her skull like a fan above an overheated goddess. Maybe once she would dare touch them, nibble teasingly at the feathery fine feelers but just how delicate the appendages were she had no inkling. Though his form was chiseled deep within her memory, the logistics of it were as foreign to her as any other. Of course that wouldn’t do but some things take time and gentle persuasion.
A strong word
She snorts, clearly amused that he would deem the word too harsh. Nonsense, it was disgusting. The endless rays of sunshine, the too sweet clover, vegetation that slowly turned brittle in the winter as if the life and vibrancy simply could not be sucked from it. It was all too good, too sweet, too cookie-cutter perfection for her and she damn well would spit on its very existence. “Hardly. It is foul.” A decidedness to her observations. “Not foul in a good way mind you. It’s too square and happy and I’ve had enough.”
A quick flick of her tail, not minding where it went or who it smacked in its toss. Though in the end he is really agreeing with her, though outright he does not deface the Gates good name, deep down he had to at least feel the bitterness she held for it. Right?
“Oh good then, I knew you were a man to see sense.” Brightly her mood changes, as it often did when she somehow got her way. “C’mon Ely, we’ll have fun on the way too. My treat.” A nibble of her own placed gently near his listening earhole, with a wicked giggle to pass her sickly tender lips. The ‘treat’ was all too certain.
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