If she was to know his mind, it wouldn’t necessarily be his thoughts of pulling her beneath the water that would anger her. Oh she would be upset of course, she does not pine for death like some do, a reasonable reaction when someone tries to murder you. She wears the dappled print of the jaguar and understands they cannot change their spots, they cannot be anything but what they are. She is as she is just as he is what he is. To discover the predator within him would at least be something she can understand. It is the thought of being collected in any kind of matter that would flame her fury. Not just collected (for she belongs to no-one but herself) but becoming just one more fish in a massive sea. The thought of being just another number among thousands, another notch on a bedpost or just another name on a long list of previous victims..No, she did not want to be “just another.”
If he was to pull her under, hers would be the last face he ever saw. And if she couldn’t manage that then she, with her last dying breath, would make sure that she was the one victim he could never rid himself of, that he would never forget.
However she is ignorant to his mind and his intentions. So she remains docile and indifferent even as he slips further into the water with a charming smile. She smiles as well, inwardly, when she notices his gaze upon her flowers. Something about their cloying scent seems to make even the devil stop to smell them. He is nothing but gentlemanly, polite and calm as he inquires about them, but there’s a strange prickling in her gut. With Tunnel she had known exactly what he was about when he had approached her. This one seems his opposite and yet… Yet there is something that pulls at her brain and whispers “Be careful.” She’s not sure why and she’s not even sure she will listen.
“Passion flowers.” She responds just loud enough to be heard over the gurgling rapids. “You can find them in the jungle.” She tilts her head slightly as her golden eyes absorb him, her horn glinting in the sparkling sunlight that reflects off the water’s surface. “You would fit in well there.” She says with a whisper of a smile, lingering on the deep green of his body. Molech, he gives to her. Quite a name, ominous even. “I’m Bardot.” She watches the way his goldenrod tail flows with the river current before bringing her gaze back to his lavender ones. She says nothing more deciding to follow that feeling in her gut after all and falls back on observing him rather than talking. Would he come closer to her? Would he make sure that her focus remained on him? Or would he lose interest and ignore her completely? Perhaps if he did, she would come to him. He was quite handsome after all and she belonged to no-one. No-one but herself.
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Bardot![[Image: BQjeje-Bardot2.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/T37nJTF6/BQjeje-Bardot2.png)