YOUR SONG
08-13-2013, 02:05 AM
She would appear no sooner than later, ambling with the brittle regality he had so long ago grown accustomed to. The demon would fail to recognize his striking trophy; her meagreness, her patheticness. Barely a year ago she had been a prime image of perfection, wealth, strength. What had become of her? Still, the albino king had thought her dead, or evermore lost; the pleasantries that would rise so willingly within his core would be more than enough to encourage lacked appreciation of his favoured accolade, despite her scantily physical condition. A sense of disbelieve would attempt to clutch on, to squeeze his pipes closed before he made a fool of his intellect, though he was certain now, as she spoke, certain that it was her. Argent. Perhaps she had held a place within his heart, his mind that he had previously been blinded to, for now; as she so respectfully bowed to him, so willingly exposed her scruff to the power that brewed his ideal form; the realisation of deference would begin to taint his psyche. Even now in her dismal form, her rattling skeleton would boast of a thriving greatness no other of his women seemed possess. A rarity that he would find himself hungrily devouring as a single stride would draw him to her contact, pallid nape craning as salmon tongue would trace so thirstily along the clatters of her collar. ?I could say the same for you,? only now would his infamous smirk begin to twitch cherry lips, tainting with a rising pleasure as his jaws would open; hungrily seeking the tender folds of her scruff. ?But you are here now, and you are mine again, my pretty medal,? a vague sense of adoring possession would crease his tone, an oddity in comparison to the way he addressed his several other women. |