I had another beautiful commission done by @redreart! This time of my lovely Dove and @harmonyowl’s Grace Seed! My girl just can’t resist cult heralds haha XD It came out so beautiful! I love it so much! 💞
Aaahhhh went with syb and Grace for this! I hope I did her justice <3
Sybille’s gotta say, she’s getting real sick and tired of being kidnapped. What is it with the Seeds and tying people to chairs? She wonders. Faith is the only one who hasn’t, which leads her to the absurd conclusion that it must be a genetic thing.
Or shared trauma.
She awakens with coarse hempen rope chafing her wrists and ankles, securing her to a sturdy wooden chair. Nothing about it is comfortable. It’s too heavy for her to move and worse still, it has no wheels.
Smarter than John, she thinks. Not that it’s a particularly high bar.
A pleasant humming sounds from behind her, but it stops when she lets out a groan. Whoever brained her left a throbbing goose egg to remember them by. Not that she has long to focus on it because Grace Seed, living up to her name, glides into view, her skirts flowing in some mysterious breeze that only seems to be affecting her.
She drags a chair with her and she takes a seat far closer than Sybille would like. The toes of her heeled shoes bumping up against Sybille’s combat boots.
She crosses her legs at the knee, and although she leans forward to rest her chin on her hand, her posture is nothing short of prim and poised. When she smiles, Sybille is struck by how much she resembles her twin: dark hair, blue eyes, and blindingly white teeth.
“Seems my snare has caught itself a jackrabbit,” she says.
Sybille scoffs and rolls her eyes. The last thing she wants is for that condescending nickname to catch on amongst the rest of the Seed siblings. “You been talkin’ with Jacob?”
“His little pet name for you is quite apt. You’re very fast. It’s difficult to catch you,” she muses. Her smile widens and she rises from her chair to lean over her captive, supporting her weight on the armrests next to Sybille’s arms. She’s so close that Sybille can smell her perfume -- floral, but light. Nowhere near as cloying as the Bliss.
Invasion of personal space? Yup. She’s a Seed for sure.
Grace draws her lower lip between her teeth and her hand comes to slide teasingly over Sybille’s thigh.
“Such long, powerful legs,” she hums, and she huffs a small laugh at Sybille’s barely suppressed shudder. Her gaze flicks back to her captive’s, cold blue eyes swimming with delighted malice. “It’d be such a shame if something happened to them. There are so many unattended bear traps in the county. I’m amazed you haven’t been caught in one yet. You must be the kind of woman who’s every step is a careful decision.”
Sybille narrows her eyes. “You threatenin’ me, Miss Seed?”
Grace leans back, gathering her skirts and perches herself back on her chair. “Of course not, my dear Deputy. I’m just stating my observations. If I were threatening you, you wouldn’t have to ask.”
The fact that you’ve tied me to a chair leads me to believe otherwise. But Sybille sees where this is going. Grace has a subtlety most of her siblings seem to lack. John’s charisma paired with Joseph and Jacob’s patience? Grace Seed is damn fucking dangerous.
“What do you want?” Sybille asks through gritted teeth.
Grace heaves a tired sigh. An exaggerated performance, Sybille is sure. She’s enjoying toying with her far too much for it to be anything else. “Your cooperation, of course, Deputy,” she says. “So are you going to behave? Or will I have to do something unpleasant?”
She doesn’t need to explain what that “something unpleasant” might be. She made it very clear what will happen if Sybille says “no.”
A broken leg would be a death sentence for the Resistance. She can’t afford to let that happen.
“Guess I don’t got no choice,” Sybille says.
Grace’s smile widens, dark and predatory. Too many teeth. “A careful decision, indeed,” she says. Then, she rises to her feet and smooths her skirt. “Wait here, lovely. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back soon.” And with that, she departs, letting the solid metal of the bunker slam shut behind her.
Thank Christ she’s just a Herald, is all Sybille can think. I’d hate to go up against her if she were in Joseph’s position.
Cause another and another comin' up out of the gutter
Till I'm drowning in an ocean of entitled motherfuckers
And they're pushin' all my buttons
But they never seem to wonder why
