DON'T EVER TRUST THE DEVIL, BITCH!
07-28-2013, 08:12 PM
The ice queen sauntered with the unmistakable poise of a seasoned juggernaut, confidence enunciated from the pretentious positioning of the plush appendage draped like a banner above her rump with grandiose. The pompous mannerisms that had haunted her very being from the moment she had plagued the earth with her maleficent presence were now justified by the prestigious title that had just recently labeled her and the golden regalia that had been handled to her upon a silver platter; everything the pallid viper had ever dreamt of obtaining was now within her clutches, and oh how the covetous queen was reluctant to relinquish her firm grasp upon the reigns of authority. No ? the Tortuga crown, it suited her no matter how crooked its placement was atop her skull and no matter how little her militants numbered at, and even if her competence was only seen through her own biased eyes and the opinion shared by none other.
A grimace contorted her immaculate and angelic countenance as the low rumbling of thunder vibrated the earth beneath her dainty paws, causing metallic eyes that gleamed with disgust to roll back in their sockets as her pupils searched for the source of resonance. Ominous, gloomy clouds blanketed the gray skies, threatening to unleash their liquid prisoners at any given moment to destroy her otherwise glorious trek across the northern region of the island, so far a distance away from the realm under her possession where her regime lay. A singular droplet cascaded from the looming clouds above, pelting just beneath a glittering, mercury eye, sliding down the bridge of her muzzle until it breached her nostrils that flared with a defiant huff that sent the drop into oblivion. Irritation surged throughout her petite form as the wench realized the droplet would be accompanied by his brethren in due time, and although on any other day the babe would have waltz beneath the downpour as if it were another obstacle that needed to be passed, the wench presumed this storm to be atypically vehement, and rightfully so. A second, more demanding roar of thunder reverberated in the atmosphere, forcing the white witch to pivot and flee in search of the nearest shelter to cover her from the impending storm.
As the rain began to fall in torrents, an indentation in the mountain nearest to where she frantically searched captivated her attention, enticing her with the promise of shelter. She bolted towards the entrance, breaching the mouth of the dimly-lit cavern and losing the repetitive sensation of rain showering her pristine flesh in the process. A grunt escaped her gluttonous jaws as she heaved her mass against the closest rock wall, sliding down its front until she was perched upon her haunches, raspy breaths falling from her dampened lips as she attempted to catch her breath that had been lost during her sprint.
"speech"