[P] up and up the smoke will roll

Eris Eternity · 05-11-2011, 06:04 AM

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Word Count » 438

my road to hell is surely paved

At his words, she smiled, but made no verbal response; it was exactly as she had pictured it, and the snake-skin it was made of would be an interesting conversation piece, to say the least. What little she knew of these things, they were power -- appropriator of beliefs she was, the hybrid would follow the things he set forth and abide by them to the best of her ability. At her request, he ceased his touching and seemed to pull away; the hybrid was momentarily afraid of having offended him, and her head dipped downwards and her coal-shaded ears pulled back, her chartreuse eyes furtively looking toward him as he shifted his position around to look upon her. His hand was on her chin, then, pulling her head upwards toward his own.

She looked into his jade-hued eyes, surprised by his words. Ouija was not obligated to her with children as Larkspur was, and here he was offering protection and whatever else she needed. Her various needs ached within her, but she found she could not voice a single one; instead, a smile spread across her face, toothy and true. There was no malice or pride within the smile as Eris's generally contained, but instead it welled up genuinely from somewhere unexpected within her, and his movement toward her was met with something of a shiver, her body reacting appropriately while her chartreuse eyes reflected mild surprise at the gesture of affection.

She shifted around toward him when he'd pulled away from her so they were nearly perpendicular and she was nearly in his lap, leaning herself against his chest. Her fingers drew through the fur there, seeking a clump of it loosened by springtime shed perhaps; when she found it, she tugged gently, pulling the fur from him and bringing it to her nose, inhaling the scent of him from it. Fingers tucked it into the gris-gris slowly, carefully untying it, peering inside, and then retying it.

She would smell of him when she left him here, she knew, but she hardly cared; she did not think Larkspur would directly inquire about it, and if he did, she'd think of something. Indifference flooded her, and she nuzzled against his neck, drawing her teeth lightly against the flesh there, figuring the response it would draw from him. “Teach me about them?” she asked, very nearly meekly -- her voice was barely a whisper, her nose drawing close to his ear. When she'd finished speaking, her tongue snaked out to lick against the flesh there, a slight tremble beginning in her legs with this act of betrayal/not-betrayal.

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