Stand face to face with your god
She is alone for a time and then, quite simply, she is not.
She turns her fine head to study the interloper, a flash of vivid reptilian light in the eyes as she traces the lines of his face through the dark. The delicate nostrils flare while he stares and the furthest corners of her dark mouth stir with an electric simper.
The stars wink at them from beneath the water’s surface and she turns to face him. How sweetly he grins at her, this boy who sinks even closer still.
She draws in a swift breath and exhales a glimmering cloud of stardust into what precious little space remains between them. She blinks those big, bright eyes, tucks her chin toward her chest. Plays so coy, a sweet, doe-eyed thing but there’s no hiding what she is.
Still, her muscles tremble and spasm but she moves easy through the water until she is close enough to touch him. Close enough to curl herself sweetly against her side. An innocent, a damsel.
“It’s cold down here,” she whispers, “won’t you warm me up?”
Such a vicious liar she is, Altar. The sharp teeth and the barbed spine and the heat of her breath were not made for this faux softness. Her father had built her to burn and yet. And yet. The destruction is so dreadfully boring, she finds, when it is straightforward.
And isn’t there power in convincing them she’s anything other than what she is?
@[crowns]