the crumbling queen
#15
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As it was finished, as her mind came full circle back to reality, Tlantli gave her leader back the tauntingly respectful gaze of her fiery Kimaris eyes. She played with fire when it came to Sirius, walking a fine line of submission and dominance — always so willing to flaunt her brazen wiles while still keeping her place beneath him in her mind. She was simply a pawn in his game, under his control to the fullest extent and more than willing to proclaim such a thing. It didn't matter if she was left without her own power. It didn't matter if she'd lost her freedom upon following the handsome creature out of the mountains. She was given back family, a pleasant thought, and something that she could use to give back to her father in the future.

She didn't assume anything of the internal workings of her new Lord, didn't have any realization of restrained lust within him; how could she? She may have been a shaman, some sort of voodoo priestess, but Tlantli's knowledge did not penetrate the minds of men. With golden fingers tarnished to bronze, she found her capabilities in the lifestream rather than reality.

Her thoughts were cut off with a sigh that erupted from the woman's chest, a passive response to her leader's inquiry. For the moment, it was finished, though she knew that the process itself would be repeated over a course of time. "For now." She couldn't say for sure when the mark would be finalized, but Sirius would gain reprieve for a few cycles of the sun. She offered a lackadaisical grin, raising one hand to almost tauntingly tap his nose. "Perfetion cannot be rushed, though." Her words were closed by glittering laughter, a paranormal sound that emanated from the witchdoctor. Laughter was no common thing to be heard from Tlantli; it seemed foreign to her own ears.

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