"Try as you may you hold no power over us."
‼️🩸🥀
— “Oh? And yet I remain in your skull, banging and banging and banging away until it cracks.”
Sharp, glistening wet teeth split through parted lips. The tips of her mouth curled upwards into a sticky sweet smile parading faux flattery. A gentle chuckle bounced around inside of her nauseatingly armoured chest and the silver adorning her cascading braid jingled with each shake. How cute. A little lamb coated in its mothers blood, bleating upwards at the snarling wolf… a meagre wire fence and simple disinterest the only partitions between devastating fangs and thin wool. Orin the Red adored it. She adored the food fighting back, giving chase and keeping it fun. Tempting her. Teasing her. Winding it up for their inevitable annihilation that bursts the crimson bubble that expanded with each panicked breath. Immediate satisfaction. Hot, sticky blood. Beauty, and intent.
Sheer arrogance.
“Tell me; How often is it that my blade crosses your mind? How many dark, damp alleyways do you avoid in order to desperately protect your supple flesh from being stripped away from bone? Do you hope that maybe I will be there when you glance behind yourself at night?”
Tempting her. Teasing her.
