[Redrum] Bleed You Dry

Exposed · Today, 03:45 AM

As if this flaxen, meteorite and tiger-orange moor fret no almsgiving in the wake of its sparse, june-bud foliages, it was the reek encroachment of something else that pervaded the cacodemon’s solidarity.

Pungent, earthy aroma’s, befouled with hints of stannic blood.

A boy, a child, their actions breaching silence; the graveyard’s foggy, lichen and mossbed jacket adorned that of a wraithlike, presage beast, breathing helheim and absolute ruination. She’d turn, calculative and slow, perhaps bowed to ogle —— rosso corsa starched in a blunge of rubies and oxide, severed by baja-white undergarments —— a stark desert met with carmine shores, achromic eyes bid to lock with their candlelight, poison-mottled gaze, nonchalant and eerily capricious. She did not appreciate the circus act, and nor will it be met with light benignity; skin jerking, nerves hungering, a ripple plunged along the woman’s spine like billows battering beneath a wild tempest, daring him to make a move. Red-hot, pluming snarls, both raw and cataclysmic with every breath that rumbled from those sopping jowls. There was no telling what she may or may not do, metallurgic thrums bespeaking from the very pits of her gut -- she truly feared none, and a glacial, callous temptation glossed over those deadpan, neutral nebula’s.

What, pray tell, did they expect to procure from all of this?

Because she, for one, was more than willing to prove that she, a hellion, no less a psychopath born and bred in purgatory, would not be taken for a prat, “What?” The single word would bark past slavered lips, blighted in grit and a low, eldritch nuance, beguiling, provoking. She couldn’t care less for who or what they were, really; Lebraid’s demeanour would only bleed a phlegmatic, yet volatile tendency, faltering none in keeping them within her sights.

Text | "Speech" | Skill

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[Redrum] Bleed You Dry

Exposed