Trippin' on skies

The women is utterly captivating. As Thorne stands in silence, studying the fae's every movement, she finds herself helplessly transfixed by every word spoken. Her heart slams against her ribcage, beating fervently. "A conqueror" she muses softly to the women's reply, eyes never leaving the piercing blue of her companion. "A women of power. A queen, perhaps?". A curious smirk hooks one corner of her mouth, curling in a half grin akin to that of the chesire cat. In this moment, she could truly see this women as a queen. Not the kind who were prissy and spoiled, relying on the servants to tend to her every superficial whim, but the kind who dominated, who sat atop a throne of skulls, who radiated power wherever she went.

Stepping another pace, Thorne aims to shift slightly closer, should the fae allow. For her next words are a quiet utter, spoken with deliberate care. "I want to burn". Her eyes dance in the moonlight, like livid blue flames. "With desire. With contempt. With passion. I want to be ravaged". Her voice is but a whisper, as gentle as a lover's caress. "Tell me, Eisleif Finnvi: Do you echo my sentiments?".