Cerulean optics dug a whole into her own blood, into her brother. She knew him well, for her eyes he was transparent. The clash of two titans. He knew better than that, he knew better than question their father and his will. For them, Hannibal was still their father successor to the throne and the spider-witch was certain that their father saw greatness in Hannibal eyes, reason why he picked him over her, over Jekyll and all of them.
The voodoo queen will was not her own; her body, reptilian, skeleton-like belonged to the spirit world, her soul. black and foul belonged to the spirits. Every she was and everything she knew was theirs for the taking. She did not wish to rule; she was the family Oracle, her only role was to follow the Heir, whoever that might be and aid in each way she can.
Your ambition will be the death of you, blood. melodious tones, mysterious in their wake were carried away by the breeze.
It was moments like those that she was the calmest, when she could scent the family bond in her veins boiling and threatening to spill. When she was surrounded by them.
He was ambitious, a galactic titan, eager to set his iron pawn upon the throne, the title, the land. But such foolishness may as well bring his demiss sooner or later.
One must not forget his head. she muttered, mostly to herself, though loud enough for the other to hear.
Come, come, brother. she hissed dangerously, a undertone of caring could be sensed within her cold symphonies of the dead.
The predatorix released herself from her brother embrace, leading him towards the bark of a tree where they both could relax and unwind; stretch their limbs per se. Her skeleton-like figure moved effortlessly upon the lands, mist and humidity almost surrounding them completely and allowing the lands a more macabre aesthetics.
Read.
Let me read your paw. she mused as she sat on her haunches against the bark of the tree. Coldness, rigidity, it send a familiar shiver down her spine; one that she loved, one that she desired.
Speech
