Trophy

It was strange, wasn?t it? The way a girl that was once so fearful, so petrified of an unwanted future, a girl that had flirted with the devil only to high-tail from the very consequences such adultery would bring; could, oh so cunningly, twist upon sinister intentions, to yield to a forced future and play it as if it were merely the board game of her life. He wanted almost to laugh in her face, to shudder with muse at her stupidity, but he realized only now- she thought she had everything wrapped around that little charcoal paw of hers didn?t she? And hell, in a way she had them all fooled. Maybe the wench was wiser than he had once thought.

He would grow suspicious at her invitation, nairs quivering t ensure she was in fact alone and not trying some kind of trap against his favors. No, she didn?t hold the power here, she couldn?t invite him in to a den that were wholly his own. It was like inviting somebody into their own house. For a moment he thought to drag her out, to toss her to the earth like the prisoner she truly was. But no, he would see what this little vulpess had in store. A snarl would curl his lips as his hackles would raise, marching so confidently through the doors of her confines. She would aim to brush against him, to taunt him, and he would do no less than to throw his chest towards her; to attempt to clash against her shoulder and rapidly take a hold on her scruff, ?You play with fire now little charcoal,? his voice would shudder between clenched teeth, ?Stoking so confidently at embers unknown, I hope you know how to avoid a burn.? He would play her games if she so wished, but she would not lead in the manner she so seemed to endeavor.