[+] The tamed wildling grunts, hoarse and pathetic, in this corner. Cries, drowned to a lifeless soak by the sinister cackling of a cruel audience, inspiring surrender in our exhausted victim. The Redwood fires reach high, illuminating the likes of red robes; they drag an inch unto kicked-up soil. And while midnight masks much detail, she sees the glistening iron on the ground that shapes their circle. In it’s center she lies, rope at her wrists and ankles that bound her to posts beside the fire. There is an almost cheerful humming that falls on nearly deaf ears, her senses dulled as she comes to from a long, poppy slumber. It transforms into something sensual, much like an intriguing purr, that stands beside the inaudible chanting.
Hazed with glass, emeralds try to widen and focus, but the tender touch of jeweled fingers will guide her face forward. Though startling, it’s softness will, if only for a moment, drudge up the last bit of hope inside of her weak frame. Like when an ‘I love you’ is returned from a lover you thought held no such feelings. Or when a pet returns to your side when it senses you are depressed. But there is no love here, not for her purity nor her soul, just the cold, glassy stare of marine eyes, waking her fright like a monster to a sleeping infant. “Don’t be afraid.” The silken texture is fixed with both a deceptive care and a sweet seduction, petting her face with a paternal hand; and beyond it, a smirk rests so secretly at the corner of that generous mouth. “You’ve always been the chosen.” And it moves closer after that whisper, opening to deliver a tender token of gratitude for her unwilling compliance, square on quivering lips. In what feels like an instant, warm flesh is pressed to hers, and the lion climbs his prey with a demanding grace, heart full from the sensual sounds of encouragement and praise from those in masks. But that dagger lies so painfully close to his prey.. Almost too close, where barely a reach would let his palm grasp it with ease. We fear for the young girl’s life, but his tactic has left such little room her to feel anxiety; beauty and a gentle hand have fooled women since the dawn of time, what would stop it from working at the taxing dusk of it?
@limitlessxxpotential
