Skeletons and Hexes
Dance with the Devil || Her eyes dance with stoic apathy across the terrain, unaware of the beauties surrounding her; ametyst in colour with their glacial hunger buried within, a hunger for revenge, a hunger for perdition. The luciferian woman demeanour is that of a supremacy of an enigmatic cold, ever frigid, emotionally unattainable, unable to be satisfied -- inspite of the burning passion secretively and powerfully, held within for her family and lineage. She were a woman of deceptive secrecies as she have lived enough and seen enough of this Earth in both Egypt and Boreas, unspeakable wrath was held boiling within her veins -- her affections as wicked and merciless as her lust for revenge over the same people she loves. Such was the exotic delicacy of her fragmented persona: parasitic, controlling, seductive, hateful. Encased within an elegant prison of manic bi-polarity. She was all woman, all lunacy, and one hundred percent gorgeously mind-blowing, narcissistic, feral bitch.
In the spur of the moment she noticed to late the fragrance of another, potent, heavy through the air separating them. Slow pace came to an abrut halt, delicate teacup paws places one in front of the other; bush tail curled over reptilian spine, offering nothing but sensuality, regality in the wake of another posible intruder. Male, no less. Tick-tock. It was not long before the invader made an impact before her violet eyes, registering every mucle and every hair threat the phantom had to offer from a safe and one dare say polite distance. "The West is an old friend, dare I say."
"!" |
