09-29-2015, 11:16 AM
The white girl stands apart from her acquaintance of the Gates. Chocolate eyes, cooling in the icy air, peruse him languidly as he considers her words. She allows her reply to drift endlessly through her own mind also. It reverberates through her thin skin and brittle bones, awakening memories and cells long dormant. Her matted mane snags in her long lashes as she shifts her gaze in the direction of the Gates. He reeks of it. Astarte had lived there once, likely long before Kronk was even a spark in the future. The stranger smells of smoke and char and her eyes trail, as soft as a lovers caress, down to his limbs and, yes, his ankles are stained with ash.
Burned.
Her eyes flicker up, her gaze darkening, her lashes lowering and her lips quirking as he stumbles and deviates with his offer. Seems the Gates are as barren and wasted as her soul. She laughs and it is a cold melody that she lets die too soon upon the winds. “How the mighty fall to ash and dust.”
She had possessed the power of the earth once, but not even then could her cool heart be warmed to encourage plants to grow beyond her own masochistic blood roses. She would enjoy the wasteland.
Words creep, like a predator from the scrub. They slink into her ears and her delicate skull twists to appraise this newcomer. Chocolate brown eyes meet the heated red gaze; enough to melt. Her lips, as sooty as the ash in the Gates, curl.
Reveler.
Her eyelids move slowly, like a contented cat, no less content than if she lay by a warm, soothing hearth. For a moment, her eyes gleam watching him as if he is a God and she is the broken priestess begging for salvation upon dirtied knees. But, like the flutter of wings, it is gone and instead a laugh peels from her lips. It is sour, beautiful and as venomous as a snake bite. “I have been promised death by a god. I made him promise to strangle me so I could feel every second of my life slip from me.” She steps towards him, her lips twisted in a feral snarl. “I do not fear the pain you claim to lay upon me with your empty threats. But they are just that. Empty.
“Immortality is a blot upon my life; a protective vice. Overcome it, truly give me death, and I will sooner call you a god.” She finishes harshly, her words little more than a hiss.
Blasphemous girl.
The bone girl chuckles softly and dangerously and her eyes drift back to Kronk but her murmured words are for the red eyed stranger. “I gave my god a kiss for his vow, but I don’t think you would be content with so little.”