Out with the golden we sew, and the lower past that crawls.
Now, to the doorway you run, to the girl that's not lost.
Now, to the doorway you run, to the girl that's not lost.
If this woman was looking for unabashed fear, then she revealed herself to the wrong person. I have seen darkness such as she many times, and I have known it, seen it tamed, domesticated. Not only in my dreams, but under the masterful control of my brother, as well. Khaedrik the shadow magician, arcane in his prowess - my mind goes to him as I behold the wraith before me, as I stand not in indifference as she would have it - but in awe.
I wonder at the way her eyes are illuminated. I glance at the moon, smile under its dim light; where it touches my coat, clouded leopard markings shimmer. It is a small detail, but perhaps this woman - nameless, as perhaps she needs to be - will notice, the same way I notice - no, admire - her glimmering eyes.
Zosma. I smile, my original thoughts proved incorrect. This shall not be an anonymous meeting. With the simple drop of her name into my mind, there is a level of intimacy established between us - one which I intend to water, and see blossom.
I am pulling at the tendrils of my magic then, as we both stand, examining one another melodically - I bend that rhythmic, gentle thought to my will, guiding us both off to sleep seamlessly - some trees in the distance fade from our view, our peripheral vision hindered by the way that sleep seems to inhibit such sidelined sensory systems. But as I watch her, as she watches me - I know she will not notice.
Not yet, at least.
"My name is Kagerus." My voice has hardened, as if my name too, carries power as hers does. But at her next question, I smile; and as my lips peel back, two fangs grow to to match her own, sharp and clandestine in the moonlight. I step forward, close the small distance between us, place my lips - unnaturally soft - on the sensitive membrane of her devil's ear. My whisper travels to her very core - to her bones.
"And something tells me it's you who'd like to be eaten."
I wonder at the way her eyes are illuminated. I glance at the moon, smile under its dim light; where it touches my coat, clouded leopard markings shimmer. It is a small detail, but perhaps this woman - nameless, as perhaps she needs to be - will notice, the same way I notice - no, admire - her glimmering eyes.
Zosma. I smile, my original thoughts proved incorrect. This shall not be an anonymous meeting. With the simple drop of her name into my mind, there is a level of intimacy established between us - one which I intend to water, and see blossom.
I am pulling at the tendrils of my magic then, as we both stand, examining one another melodically - I bend that rhythmic, gentle thought to my will, guiding us both off to sleep seamlessly - some trees in the distance fade from our view, our peripheral vision hindered by the way that sleep seems to inhibit such sidelined sensory systems. But as I watch her, as she watches me - I know she will not notice.
Not yet, at least.
"My name is Kagerus." My voice has hardened, as if my name too, carries power as hers does. But at her next question, I smile; and as my lips peel back, two fangs grow to to match her own, sharp and clandestine in the moonlight. I step forward, close the small distance between us, place my lips - unnaturally soft - on the sensitive membrane of her devil's ear. My whisper travels to her very core - to her bones.
"And something tells me it's you who'd like to be eaten."
Kagerus
sweet nothing
@[Mirage]
![[Image: kag]](https://78.media.tumblr.com/2e8039018ce4dff6112c167ec23e886a/tumblr_p72zjit7wC1s5a0qvo1_100.png)
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