06-27-2019, 10:19 AM
SabbatH
i'll let you play the role. i'll be your animal.
As he changes course to meet her approach, she is studying him and the length of his strides. Could she take him in a fight or would he best her in battle? This life is all about the struggle, after all, and she’s tasted blood enough to know she likes it in the worst way. But he is all kindness when he speaks so maybe they’ll never know which of them is the strongest. Her smile broadens a little at his offer and she laughs softly at his words.
A queen, her? Her mother or her sister Linnea would perhaps be better suited for such a role. Her veins sing for something not quite so polished and pretty. Sabbath tilts her head and takes a step closer, though her expression does not dare him to hold his ground. “Could I be the general instead? I’ll guard your crown so you don’t have to get dirty,” she offers, the light in her eyes dancing at the idea of being a warlord. The serpent girl continues to slink closer until they’re so close she could reach out and kiss him – if she wanted.
“My name is Sabbath. What’s your, my king?”
She keeps her chin tucked down as though she’s modest or bashful and the sun reflects off the pearlescent shard of her horn. Her sage green eyes remain on his as she waits patiently for his name. Would he be more like Aegean or like Eight? Sabbath wishes she could peek into his chest and find all the things he’s collected in his heart but she is only fangs and scales. Magic could never choose a girl as fractured and voracious as her, she knows. But she’s a patient hunter and she’ll find a way to pluck his secrets from his tongue in time, she’s sure.
A queen, her? Her mother or her sister Linnea would perhaps be better suited for such a role. Her veins sing for something not quite so polished and pretty. Sabbath tilts her head and takes a step closer, though her expression does not dare him to hold his ground. “Could I be the general instead? I’ll guard your crown so you don’t have to get dirty,” she offers, the light in her eyes dancing at the idea of being a warlord. The serpent girl continues to slink closer until they’re so close she could reach out and kiss him – if she wanted.
“My name is Sabbath. What’s your, my king?”
She keeps her chin tucked down as though she’s modest or bashful and the sun reflects off the pearlescent shard of her horn. Her sage green eyes remain on his as she waits patiently for his name. Would he be more like Aegean or like Eight? Sabbath wishes she could peek into his chest and find all the things he’s collected in his heart but she is only fangs and scales. Magic could never choose a girl as fractured and voracious as her, she knows. But she’s a patient hunter and she’ll find a way to pluck his secrets from his tongue in time, she’s sure.