Pretty as the Vine

Sericea emerged from the underbrush, her heart quickening as she finally spotted him. Setekh stood in the shadow of the wall, his ivory coat gleaming with an ethereal glow in the waning sunlight, an imposing figure woven from myth and reality. She took a moment to catch her breath, acutely aware of the taut anticipation crackling in the air between them.

“Grandfather,” she called out, her voice a mixture of reverence and … something else. Awe, and uncertainty. “I came as quickly as I could.” Sericea felt a mixture of warmth and unease wash over her at his words. The fluttering in her chest intensified under his scrutinizing gaze, as if each glance sought to peel back layers of her resolve. She met his eyes, the acidic green depths reflecting back a hint of her own nervous energy, but she silenced the unsettling voice whispering caution in the back of her mind. Instead, she pushed forward, driven by the desire to impress him, to be worthy of the lordly smile he offered.

"Have I pleased you?" She ventured, a spark of boldness igniting within her. What came next would determine the rhythm of their interaction, and she craved his affirmation like a drought-stricken earth yearned for rain. “I’ve been practicing … ” she added, her voice betraying a slight tremor despite her attempt at appearing strong and composed.

"Sericea Praetor-Inferos"