03-03-2024, 05:33 PM
S E V E R E
She knows this place is full of all kinds of oddities. She knows that to some, she is one of them.
The glistening scales and glowing eyes, the twisted horns and the spade-shaped tail all came together to create an image that can only be described as unsettling. She does not entirely look the part of a monster; no sharp teeth or blood-stained lips, nothing terribly grotesque about her. But there is the promise of one there, of something sinister lying in wait; a wrongness that the others always seemed to be able to sense.
To her, it is the pretty things that are odd, and Margot is a pretty thing.
“I do,” she continues, her footsteps taking her to stand right at the water’s edge. “I’ve never seen anyone made of glass.” It feels like a trap, almost. Glass is so fragile — surely she cannot break that easily? She is too brazen for one that could shatter should Severe decide to give her a harsh shove against the rocks, she must be hiding some type of defense mechanism. She enjoys a challenge, though, and puzzling out how this fragile creature survives seems as good a way as any to pass her time.
She does not notice the magic yet, her silver eyes still staring at the porcelain mare. “Severe,” she offers her own name in return, and though the word suggests something harsh it rolls in a lilting way off her own tongue. “How long have you lived in Pangea?” she asks, falling easily into the role of someone that enjoys small-talk, her pointed tail flicking idly like a cat’s.
The glistening scales and glowing eyes, the twisted horns and the spade-shaped tail all came together to create an image that can only be described as unsettling. She does not entirely look the part of a monster; no sharp teeth or blood-stained lips, nothing terribly grotesque about her. But there is the promise of one there, of something sinister lying in wait; a wrongness that the others always seemed to be able to sense.
To her, it is the pretty things that are odd, and Margot is a pretty thing.
“I do,” she continues, her footsteps taking her to stand right at the water’s edge. “I’ve never seen anyone made of glass.” It feels like a trap, almost. Glass is so fragile — surely she cannot break that easily? She is too brazen for one that could shatter should Severe decide to give her a harsh shove against the rocks, she must be hiding some type of defense mechanism. She enjoys a challenge, though, and puzzling out how this fragile creature survives seems as good a way as any to pass her time.
She does not notice the magic yet, her silver eyes still staring at the porcelain mare. “Severe,” she offers her own name in return, and though the word suggests something harsh it rolls in a lilting way off her own tongue. “How long have you lived in Pangea?” she asks, falling easily into the role of someone that enjoys small-talk, her pointed tail flicking idly like a cat’s.
INNOCENCE DIED SCREAMING, HONEY, ASK ME, I SHOULD KNOW
@
margot