WC: 1276 ... 
WOOT!
He came upon her like some crazed bat out of hell. The jealousy in his sapphire coals seemed to almost explode, and the look on his face – well, it seemed to twist all sense of reason. He looked like he wanted to kill, and that he would enjoy doing it. With her body pinned, and straddled like some X-rated film at the late night cinema, Lucia could feel the alcohol in her system beginning to dissipate. All her senses were loading up, reinstalling themselves. He was in trouble now. However, instead of making a move, the obsidian Inferni Outsider simply smiled – a cruel, knowing smile, and she stared directly into his ocean-painted eyes. She could almost taste his breath on her tongue; their closeness almost intimate perhaps, on some strange masochistic level. His clothes rubbed against her skin, and his voice echoed within the confines of her mind, she could feel her pulse beginning to race – and a single growl erupting in her throat.
Admittedly, if the situation had been different, she would have backed down. He was generally a fair bit bigger, and dare she say it, a lot heavier too – but Lucia blamed the comfort eating. It was clear this male had some sort of sordid obsession with her other half, and that, in itself was a lot more disturbing than the fact that he called her ‘little girl’, or in fact had her straddled in the desert and was beginning to touch her face. Feeling his fingers on her face, Lucia’s eyes narrowed to the size of needles. She snarled loudly, a warning in its tone. She wanted to bite off his hand, but that would have been irrational and uncalculated – a fight was about balance, about procedure. She was trained, just like Snake, and she was not about to break her training for this whelp. He just wasn’t worth the effort.
Continuing to smile, almost relentlessly, the ebony female never once removed her gaze from his. Her ears flickered momentarily as silence finally settled in. She inhaled, and sighed as she exhaled – almost sarcastically. It became apparent that whilst lost in her thoughts, this psychopath had decided it a better option to ensure she didn’t move her gaze and clasp her hair. It probably would have hurt, but still mildly intoxicated (though a lot less now due to the adrenaline – she was quickly sobering up), Lucia had barely noticed. Her lips curled in amongst themselves, her canines peering out of their blackened duvet like peals from a clam. She was grinning wildly now, much like a Cheshire Cat, and her eyes – they danced like fire, there was madness in them. Something was happening to her, something different.
“Well, now that you’ve finished having your little hissy fit,” she was calm in tone, but there was a definite sense of mocking, “I can tell you exactly what you need to know, kid!” She licked her lips, flexing her toes she did so – it was as though she was trying to tell him she didn’t care what he did to her. She was the one being honest. He was lying – mostly to himself. The poor sod. “Snake; born in New Haven. He was a prisoner by the ruler - his mother had fallen out with the bastard or something.” She paused, examining the male’s face. She wondered how much longer it would be until he burst into tears. Oh, she was going to enjoy that. “He was trained by the ruler to be a soldier, but escaped with his mother and during his travels, met his father. After that, and many countless events, he left his original family and made one for himself here, in Inferni.”
She was still grinning, each word casually falling off her tongue like poison. She wanted to burn him with acid, or perhaps watch him burn whilst covered in petrol. Either would have served its purpose for the time being. He was beginning to annoy her, and he hadn’t said anything for the time being. She continued her speech, each word proving that she knew more and more about the coyote solider. She couldn’t wait to get onto the really raunchy details. “He is trained in biped, and quadruped forms. Both, with and without weaponry… His main training was based around not feeling pain…. And using knives to their full advantage…”
Letting her words fade momentarily, her malachite optics moved dangerously; there was something psychotic forming in her façade, but what it was remained a mystery. Lucia could feel its presence, but had no knowledge of the feeling or its origins – she just liked the feeling, the power it gave her. It was like Viagra for the mind, it was electric. “He carries a knife on his person, as well as a broken pistol.” Her grin widened. Having held the beautiful object, she knew exactly how it felt, how it looked, how it smelled; exactly how she knew Snake really – but he was now a fixed pistol. She had fixed him, made him trust her, open up to her, sleep with her – she had made him love her. It was ironic really; the unloved becoming loved, the untrusting becoming trusting. It was fate, maybe – or just luck. Either way, Lucia couldn’t help but wonder how much more information she needed to spout to convince the little punk of her truths – not that it bothered her any; this was fun. She always did love a bit of chaos.
“The pistol,” she finally added, flexing her digits into the sand beneath her, trying to ignore the increasing pressure on her chest-plate, “is a 1911 Custom. Snake and I are going to make it work.” Another pause, but only seconds long – just to savour the thought of shooting the annoying brat with it, a pleasant image if ever there was one. It was time to bring out the big guns now, her biggest weapon. Details on their passionate moments at Quartz Shoreline, and how he made her squirm in the best kind of way. A bittersweet, almost vengeful expression took form on her face, and those viridian emeralds shone brilliantly with honesty – all of this was genuine, couldn’t he see that? She smirked coolly.
“Me and Snake declared our mate-ship at the Quartz Shoreline,” she snapped bluntly, her tone blank, but cold. “We shared each others body like temples. The way he moved on top of me was heavenly – the way he kissed me, a little rough but passionate all the same.” She could feel some kind of psychotic laugher building up in her chest, and a tingling in her spine. The entire situation was beginning to arouse her – that or just the deep, meaningful thoughts of the coyote had begun to burn so hard into her mind that the images of their love-making had triggered her hormones again. “He likes to be on top, and he likes to kiss my neck – just above my collarbone.” She could keep this going all night, but she was sure that pretty soon, this little psycho-punk would snap. That would be the cherry atop the cake really. “Oh, and if you need anymore proof…” Her lips curled even more so – a darkness now resting casually on her face as though it had been there all along; Lucia felt strange, almost possessed. What was this insatiable power she felt all of a sudden? Was it the fact she was pretty much sober? Who knew – all she knew was that she now had the upper hand in this game. After all, liars never win in the end. “…I can tell you the exact size of his… ‘anatomy’…”