I call her the devil
cause she makes me wanna sin
“Straia…”
She imagines the words are whispered against her elegant neck, before she nips her lightly, teasingly, just to see what she tastes like. She imagines that she sounds like a sultry, sexy goddess, instead of a monotone croak.
Then - Oh dear god, Straia is laughing at Shaytan. It makes her want to fold her ears down like a bad puppy, then sink down into a puddle of goo and slip into the cracks in the ground. As it is, she momentarily lowers her head and looks up at her beautiful, shining, and now feather-clad Queen, and almost wishes the lady would spit fire at her. Wouldn’t that be better? How can she know where she stands when all Straia does is laugh at her?
Whilst Shaytan is drowning in imagined misery, Sayaa slips forward. Her caretaker doesn’t often seek others out, and with little verbal interaction, she is far from sociable. Curious, yes, like any child. But also maladjusted and underfed and so very close to being not quite right in the head. Sayaa’s legs are sturdy, but her ribs are visible, and she is very small. She moves glances cautiously up at Straia with big, copper colored eyes (the only sign of who her sire might be, as Shaytan can’t even seem to remember doing the deed), but says nothing.The filly just smiles, shyly, hoping that this one might be nice. She knows her name, of course, like any good pet does. She even sticks her black little nose out, just to see what Straia smells like.
She smells nice. She doesn’t smell like blood.
Shaytan finally notices that Sayaa has crept forward and frowns a little. Not because the girl’s shown herself, but because she doesn’t have an explanation.”This…?” She pauses for a moment, before starting again. “Sayaa. She is…” Shaytan cannot say mine, because that would mean she was unfaithful to Straia. So instead, she says,”she appeared by me. I feed her.”
Which is, you know, the truth. Mostly.
Shaytan
and every time she knocks
I can't help but let her in