M - and then i'll set this place on fire

Sirius Revlis · 08-16-2011, 09:17 AM

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Word Count » 3+

ooc: Slight PP, where he holds her wrist. Let me know if I need to change it ;; <3

His pupils, swollen now as they sucked in the dusky light so as to outline her sweetly curved, and yet surprisingly strong form, claimed Tlantli Kimaris the second she walked through the arch and into his chamber.

The woman moved with purpose - Without the exaggerated swaying of hips that could be so fantastically seductive within some fickle female creatures. And yet she had an inexplicable allure, the sort that makes the humble fly so entranced by the spider's web. Was she, then, a spider? It was difficult to tell, with the mixture of distinct arousal and fuming irritability that simmered within his blood.

Callous words rewarded his flattened ears, and he did not notice her intent as she moved to the hanging rag until it was too late. A snarl transformed handsome features into rows of salivating, yellowed teeth as the warm late-afternoon light filtered through the gap in his stone wall. Breath hissed from between clenched jaws, one hand rising to splay cream fingers over dangerously slitted eyes.

He sought words to chastise her, but the dull pounding in his head had started up again, and it took a moment, to force it to the recesses of his attention and focus again on the lovely Crone. Her cool palm, small and yet firm and capable of brutal bloodshed, rested on his leanly muscular shoulder. A gold hand was dangled before him, and the hand lowered so that bleary, poisonous olive could focus on the item it held.

The thing glinted, silver and ivory, in the light. He peered at it a moment longer before realizing what it was - While he had owned bone combs in the past, never had the Thistle King owned a brush. He tentatively sniffed at the bristles, one hand rising to take the pretty thing from her, and perhaps he would have smiled and that would have been the end of their bizarre interaction. But, alas, the Hunter's sniffing nose detected other things - Blood, grime, and the faint but unmistakable scent of an unaffiliated male.

The cream hand that had moved to take the brush from her shifted, taking instead her wrist, a fluid motion that brooked no argument. His hold was gentle, and yet it was iron, as he brought the silky fur and shallow skin there to his nose and breathed deeper. Again, that unfamiliar challenging scent spiraled into his seeking nostrils. Dark pupils flitted up to the bleeding rose of the Kimaris woman. "Where have you been, my darling Crone?" His voice, previously gruff, was now dangerously soft. With potent intent it oozed into the silence, and he did not smile, but gazed at her with an eerie calmness, a hard drop of poison within each thin pupil.

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