Time to Stretch Your Legs
"It's really funny," Crecia breathed, rubbing the sickly purple dust in between her fingers as she blinked boredly at the figure crumpled on the ground.
"After all these years of defying my mother and my father's expectations, I became the daughter they always wanted." Tiptoeing around the table, the dust was picked up by the movement and clouded up.
"Just like a rose, though switching the thorns with poison, of course. You understand, don't you?" She turned and picked up the person who laid on the ground, paralyzed, by their shoulders and sat them in a chair. The moonlight that shone through the window made her olive green eyes glow. She exhaled slowly, turning back to the table with a twirl, seemingly melancholy.
"Won't you be a dear and give up your contract?" She inquired, turning back to the debtor. They made a sort of grunt, obviously sounding like a "no." a gust of wind from the opened door swept the remaining dust on the floor out, and with the fresh air, the debtor was able to clench their hand in a fist, trying to stand up.
"Tch, oh... I suppose I spent enough time stretching my legs." She said, picking up her bat with one hand, and extending her other as an offering. "Care for a final dance?"
