Before The Thread

Violence pursues the autumn mistress, a grisly deity of bloodlust and delicious carnage; she was fibrous and elegant in her movements, touching the ebon sand of the beach like a secret lover. The imperial presence was conveyed in the swoon of her hips and the confidence that radiated through her, feral, the cold in her stare was undenying, as she uncurled the salom tongue, dragging over the canines she possessed. Her flesh was carved in the spiritual semblance of raw, grotesque coercion. Bronze voluptuous hip to svelte waist, and curved shoulders nestled beneath her trim nape; a brusque musculature defined in the art of her grating war grind – her gestures were defiant, dominance over the Earth. Her body, her visage, all remained the same but yet she changed. She was swathed in the prowess of delusion, a revenant whose movements flow with the languishing definition of her slender fiber, placeing one mile-long limb in front of the other, calculated, possessing unnatural grace. Waves crashed over the frigid Spring sand spreading it's lacy foam like the edge of a petticoat. The ocean wind blew in bitter gusts, tumbling her locks into spidery tendrils. The salty air lay thickly on her tongue and for a moment that was all she could taste and smell. Calm, her surroundings, eerie; real and at the same time nonexistent fore the bronze mistress was at the same time alone and it a crowd. Seen and unseen. Speech

*:･ﾟ✦ Lost in thought. Raquel surely was. It was in her darkest moments that she allowed herself to tango with the devil if only for a second, she'll become lost in its iron grip. For the meantime, the fiery dame wades through the waters of the obsidian beach. Her mismatched eyes probe and scout the area, a gush of wind beat her face and with it came the scent of another. The smoky babe inhaled sharply, eyes burning with desire as she gyrates her dome in an effort to lock her radars onto the Egyptian temptress that wades through the sandy shore. Raquel felt her emotionless facade fade, carnivorous jowls boasting with life as Latin accent flows like pools of blood would from a fresh wound. "Ah, mi amour, I do say you look... ravishing." Lyrics laced in tempered vexations, urging the goddess to tango with the devil. ooc; sorry so short, just woke up and i'm feelin like poo x.x "Speaking"

The bronze babe was the embodiment of sinful, heavenly desires. Sensuality. Sexuality. Prowess. Power, manifest. A lascivious, and erotic damnation; the elegantly, curvaceous image of a Goddess that descended upon Gods creation only to crush the earth beneath her paws. Divines in an alluring manifestation of ultimate beauty, carnality -- sacrilege of power and vengeance. A Goddess trapped in a mortal bodice and yet her blood is just as red. Her movements were graceful as she lessened her pace, auditory system flickering ever so slightly on top of her regalia, detecting movements other than her own. Irresistibly curved, sashaying thighs and bountiful hips, sway in their erotically lush detail as she came to a absolute halt. Scent, a perfume so sweet, so desirable she wanted nothing more but to melt and become part of it, she wanted to possess it. Soon enough came the voice that radiated confidence similar with her own. Oh, a snake, the temptation, the sin. A smirk curled upon her full, succulent lips and before she knew it, feline, slender body turned on its heels towards the source of the falsetto; her claws sounding like power cross the ground with each click. You are not far from it either, deliciae (darling) her sultry purrs rolled off foreign-kissed tongue. Like coals supporting the flames, her fiery orange jewels dug a hole through her soul with its intense stare. She purred appreciatevely towards the other woman, gaze lingering a second too much on her hips as she took in the atheletic body she was bestowed with. Obdsisian like the night was her coat, crimson orbs that could swallow her whole were met with her magnetic ones at last. What are you called, love? Speech

*:･ﾟ✦ "You are not far from it either, deliciae." The babe retreats from her position atop a rock, her weight shifting the rock slightly diagonal, which ultimately made it continue to fall sideways until her back paws clipped the top of its threshold and down it went. The crash barely startled the woman, instead all she did was chuckle with amusement, her bodice fishing toward the elegant male. "It's been a while since I've had female companionship." Raquel would coo, purring in seduction as a soft growl tickles her thorax. She was a seductress by nature, a trait she acquired from her dear father, Magnus. The day you bite into her forbidden fruit is the day you'll succumb to the darkness and thus you are rightfully hers. In her past, Raquel was known to purchase sex slaves or slaves in general. In her old realm, the most powerful families would use others for sex which ultimately labeled them their slaves. In their culture, things were strange and rare than what these realms had to offer. "The Names Raquel Dae Diabolus." Raquel slithers up next to the nameless woman, leaning a little closer to whisper in her delicate ear. "Are you going to tell me your name pulchra[beautiful], or are you just going to keep me guessing." Her nose pressed gently into her cheek, before she moves away once again, clearly teasing her. Being a tease is what Raquel was rather known for back in her realm. "Speaking"

Fragrances bathing in such familial eagerness; breaths, gently unwoven -- the bronze mistress inhaled the woman scent eagerly. Heat rolling amidst perked crevices, her hips rolled in waves, an erotic tango meant to entice. A panting effigy of misted tombs, sighs bedeviled in gorgeous femininity -- heated flesh across heated flesh, as the other approached in an attempt to touch that she allowed. She recognized another seductress when she saw one, a devilish smirk that could force the Devil himself to crawl with inferiority painted itself on full, succulent lips of the draconian woman. She knew the dance, the schemes, the cons. She was all so familiar with them but who was her to deny another woman charms? After all, she did hold the mechanism to satisfy both women and men alike. Nephthys Ma'at Ithuriel. her violent whisper of her name, graze her tautened cheekbone, in a flaming hiss of acidity. Charmed, I am sure. her words were ushered hotly against the woman skin right before she departed, in a tempting langour of refinement, made exquisite and venomously impure. They were two sides of the same coin. They were impure, deceitful, devilish and deliciously carnal. What do you seek around here, love? her brow arched in question, fiery orange gaze locking on her own, What brings such a delicious treat in front of the devil incarnate? Speech