the crumbling queen

Sirius Revlis · 05-14-2011, 08:46 AM

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Word Count » 5+

His jest was met with a surprising amount of mirth, for Tlantli was not an individual who laughed often, or freely. As such, the sultry tone sent small flames of heat to flash through his veins, pupils dilating within bitterly sharp olive as though to correct the strange reaction. The golden women did not seem to realize it, though, for her tones spilled forth in that sacrilegious accent, so fragrantly taunting his ears with its rustic seduction.

The Revlis man eyed her coldly a moment, although the glitter of his sharp smile remained. It seemed her ability to quicken his blood was fast becoming unenduring, and yet, enticingly unique. The muscles in his crossed arms tensed, showing the man to have some sort of physical need for reaction, although no words were given. Large, elegant ears that were crowned by unruly locks of dark-spun earth and umber lifted and lowered, displaying in action rather than words his apparent conflicting replies to such a subtly voiced challenge.

However, her latter tones provoked again that most wicked of looks from the man, sharp eyes poisoning the smile heathen-woman with their intense gaze. "On the contrary, my dear, it is you who must be careful. I should have you punished for your insolence," His black lip quivered to reveal the deadly row of yellowed teeth, although the syrupy smoothness to his tone suggested far more than any true irritation. The expression lingered only a moment, before the tall male straightened and his devilishly handsome features became briskly royal. "Now, come along," Lightly, he placed one cream-gloved hand on smooth curve of her lower spine - His touch was light and proper, although fingertips may have lightly grazed the sensitive area there. Using the connection to guide her, the King began to walk; As always, his step was fluid and effortless, silent as it was in his Lupus form. The Hunter was always light on his feet, injury or not.

He took her into the heart of the ruins, where crumbling stone walls joined to form the ancient relic of what had once surely been a proud castle. Few rooms remained intact enough for dwelling, but with a few planks of wood to cover the more strenuous of gaping holes, then disguised by a layer of thistle, it was indeed the most secretive and sinister of dwelling places. Claws clicked lightly on the patches of remaining cobblestone floor, as he ducked beneath a stone arch and into the room he had temporarily claimed as his own.

It had once been the throne room, and was long and rectangular. At its end was a spectacular relic - A stone throne, preserved through the ages by the decaying carcass of castle. There was of yet no other furniture, although the room was littered liberally with small items that belonged to the fastidious male: A bone comb and a small handheld mirror, an exotic assortment of knives and daggers, a pinstriped grey-brown vest slung casually over the large stone throne, and lastly, in the center of the room, the bearskin.

Sirius entered the room first, as was his right; But eagerly his eyes sought the woman's face, wanting to see her reaction to his revealed sanctum.

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