People will talk

Sirius Revlis · 07-23-2012, 07:30 PM

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WHIIIIINE >> Word Count: 3+

Sirius by Nat

Her laugh stirred tendrils of fire within him, a metal rode coaxing glowing embers to spit and spark. Yellow teeth flashed in an immediate response, the grin as feral as it was handsome. He had been a generous sire thus far, indeed, reaping the bounty of his kingdom and thrusting it onto the three who dwelled within his chambers. What was the point of wearing such a thorny crown if one could not wield it to benefit one's own spawn? He had no reservations about the misuse of his own wicked power. This was how it had been in the old days; Ranks were earned through fang and tongue and blood, and held with the superiority of birth. His eldest would be a king one day, regardless of his ability to rule - It was Sirius' job to instill such ability within him.

She was an enigma to him, curious in the way she watched with those strange bi-colored eyes, the glint of green and gold within soft, deep turquoise. Her thoughts, beyond, were unreadable, closed off to him by the mask she wore so well. This was impressive, if not challenging, to the man who prided himself on his ability to read others. Still, they danced this dance with one another, this manipulative game that had no winners, only temporary victors.

Her delicate words were sharp with a meaning that he could not quite grasp, a language his male ears could not fully interpret. There was little worry within him for a feminist uprising - He was King, and although not sexist in the crudest meaning of the word, Sirius did exist within a mental state of patriarchal rule. No woman could be King. "Indeed, not in an eldest son. But perhaps in a woman, softness is more valuable," His candid words were accompanied by a searing glance of acidic eyes, moving over her delicious contours and curves, roving freely as the desire within his belly grew. She knew just what to say to please him, to stroke his ego and preen his peacock feathers, and although he was full aware of this skilled manipulation, he allowed it, enjoying the feeling of being so enthralled. She leaned closer, and her scent curled about his dark nose, pupils narrowing to needles amongst the acid as the soft globes of her breasts were slightly flattened to the cool, varnished surface.

Her question was met with a quirk of black lips, but not answered. "I have brought something for you. Gifts," This time, he did not smile, but his heated gaze was keen and oozing the wealth of his purchases. Clawed hands left the warm clay mug, disappearing within the folds of his thick cloak, where the chinking sounds grew silent in his palm. He placed two items on the smooth wooden table-top, gently, gaze watching her all the while. The first was a small bottle, blown from glass in a splendid ruby hue. It was multifaceted, each sharp surface glinting harshly, reflecting ripples from the light gold liquid within - pure Rose Otto, shipped from the ports of Egypt. The stopper of the bottle was made from gold, tarnished by the years, but still lovely. A long black leather thong was looped about it, indicating the small bottle was to be worn as a pendant.

The second item rolled slightly towards Isabella before stopping. It was a ring, much older in appearance than the bottle, much older indeed than any jewelry that the Revlis man had ever possessed. The heavy-cut ruby glinted balefully from its setting, an ominous, bloody eye that gazed out at the world.

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