The castle is the place where you can find the queen, Ysandere Aiju. The castle appears to be a tree at first glance, but looking closer you can see a giant castle carved from the tree. This was made a few hundred years ago by fairies, and continues to be ruled by such. The monarchy is a long lasting one of the Aiju family. Must go through the the castle gates in order to get into the castle.
Posted: Wed Mar 16, 2016 5:46 pm
The morning was cool with dew and birds chirping. What woke her was the annual knocking on her door, a maid. Usually it was Ms. Evans but today they sent in an entirely different girl. She was younger then the old broot, and actually a little cute. She didn't question anything but," May I have your name?" The girl looked shocked that she was even speaking to her. It wasn't as if Ysandere was gonna allow someone to dress her without even learning their names. Thats way too much personal business out for people to see, she was uncomfortable with the entire situation of having a maid do this. But... She couldn't dress herself. It was terrible. After getting into costume, as she liked to put it. Ms. Keri- as she introduced herself- began to explain her schedule for the day. For most of the day Ysandere would be in the throne room accepting visitors, at night she would do diplomatic paperwork. In a few days she was having a ball, and Ysandere was expecting the kings of the other kingdoms to attend. It was not only a party but she wanted to discuss certain things that have come to trouble her kingdom and to investigate if they were having that trouble as well. She knew in the past that they had bad blood, which is why on the invitations also included information about a peace negotiation. This was the first step to peace within the country, and within the kingdoms.
She stepped out of her room and made her way to the throne room where she would spend the most of her day.
OOC: Sorry for shitty post, I work all weekend so I'll get to posting when I can. Ysandere is now considered to be in the Throne Room so please post there and quote me to talk to her.
Raphael had qualms about participating in such an event as it conflicted with his intentions in keeping a low profile. However, even he needed to be allotted some freedom and enjoyment from time to time. He had never considered himself strong, rather he felt as if his abilities had dwindled over the years. In actuality he'd been cursed. His blessings of light sealed deep within the recesses of his body and soul which he could no longer reach; thus he had to retrace the path he once began long ago in order to relearn everything he'd loss. Perhaps his forgotten knowledge would rendezvous with him along the way, but it was challenging to apply information to the body that it had forgotten once already.
Clad in a white suit of armor the young knight trekked along the outskirts of a village he'd just passed through. Had he been the first to wander these plains since the event had started? Or had the others already caught wind and were already in attendance? The land was bountiful, filled with liveliness and vibrant gardens; the epitome of nature. An eerie sereneness filled him and attracted him to the castle gates. It was there that he was halted by a pair of guards who then asked for proof of his credentials.
After fleeing from your old kingdom and living over four lifetimes in solitude, it was customary to change your name every so often lest humans grow suspicious of your existence. Eloquent lips parted to form a modest smile before the knight reached into the swollen tuft of fabric protecting his neck with a metallic hand and retrieved the hand-written invitation with the name Percival F. Griffith etched in black ink at the bottom right corner along with the Queen's signature. Pastel irises watched as one of the guards inspected the invitation to make sure it wasn't falsified, the knight's smile stolid while the rest of his face, hair included, was safely masked by his helmet.
Living four or so generations meant that people tend to either die or forget your face, still, one could never be too sure these days; any friendly party that recognized his face had been long since deceased by now.
The guard gave the letter back to the knight and a single nod of approval to his fellow man."Please, enjoy the ball...Sir Percival."He enunciated with uncertainty given Raphael's effeminate features even through the helmet. With his height it was safe for the guard to assume that this person was male but his features suggested that he fancied other men as well. Having gotten such a bewildered look all to common Raphael simply continued on his merry was without correcting the guard's error.
Passing through the gates the white knight headed into the castle. Hopefully this little soiree will yield something of use to him, or at least provide him with a night of merriment and entertainment.
So this was the castle. Built by fairies. She wondered how many pretenders she'd see today. Behind sugar pasted smiles and cocaine powdered wigs. Tired faces tight from deceptive smiles and shards bleeding under glamorous soles. She couldn't hate them for it. No matter what they say, she already knows. Fickle hearts leave little to trace. She'd wonder how many could survive pleasantries before they give themselves willingly to the stronger willed. Guests were passing them, some of them steering away from their dates to look at the current couple. Shimmering lips graced them with a piercing cupid smile enough to clear them a path. She leaned her pretty head against the thick arm of her brother, whom she forced along as well as ensured that he'd dress his best. Simply so that he doesn't infect her great beauty with his diligent dirtiness. He did look handsome when he cleaned up. You could be anything but a low job with that face, dear brother. A sisterly thought soon gone with the next blink.
"Hyuu-hyuu~" She giggled, whispering fervent things to the ears of Basil. Thoughts people would think were of sweet measure when really it was nothing but dreamy threats to any who would taint their image. A presence will patiently wait for her as she would approach the luminous glade of the castle gates. With her brother in her arms, they appeared before the sentry. They knights were right to change their eyes to match their expressions. Compared to her usual attire and frame she was much more woman than that of a child.
A dainty hand would surrender the parchment of invitation. A soft touch and the Knights would clamor who would kiss it. "Thank you." A delightful fixture to portray and their knees go weak. She wondered how safe the supposed kingdom was, if such men of honor could effortlessly give an easy inch of their trust to comely strangers. Another smile and they would pass and enter the threshold of the ball. "You should go ahead and enjoy yourself, Basil dear." Suggests the sister while her eyes traveled elsewhere. Already seeing a few potential suitors or loose coinpurses. But tonight was not the night to loot small change. Somehow, she was hungering for something else. A gorgeous paint of ruby red would stretch with lush lips at the thought. Well, whatever it was, she'll always have it in the end.
What to do now? Find some worthy girl for his brother to take interest in, so that for one night he would indulge in some senseless fun? Doable. But not worth the trouble. "Hmm.." Skinny gloved fingers lifted the tresses of her elegant dress to walk about. Expertly moving past the unwanted and unneeded. At some point bumping into a pigheaded noble lordling who thought he could try. Her pretty expression was met by immediate contempt. "No." He was of course, insistent. And her sickly smile was starting to fade from her patience running thin. She could just turn him to candy or have him eat himself if it was any better. She could do a lot of things but many things could blow back on her in return. All. So. Tiresome. Just like this man. Her beauty was her own curse, she knew it. But one that she refused to suffer from as those did befell to her gaze. The black lamb will choose greater pleasure than still for the smaller details. A better idea surfaced.
"Would you like to dance for a bit?" She stepped past the weak ugly creature and a gentle set of arms would snake over an unsuspecting knight's and continue to walk away from an impending disaster. Tall, and from the frame of his armor and back, able to support his weight without a single trace of slack--as far as she knew. Who he was or what he was under that helmet she did not immediately mind. But a passing thought did occur as she took in the wave of flowing hair of shocking white in great detail. Her eyes taking on the lune of his eyes despite the narrow nose piece. "Here." A bloodred drink that did appear in her hands from a fleeting tray. "You must be getting stuffy by now, Ser." A title she would grace him. Knights. An ever favorite figure in the military construct. Her arm that remained in his steadily traveled up to the clasp of his cape before circling around a vague insignia. Then the fine silken pad would trace the fork point of his tip. Playfully pushing it up an inch to then let it fall with a soft c***k.
"Hm-hmph." The well fashioned woman would chuckle, silvery in her tone with soft bells.
Oh how quickly the castle filled with life and festivity. Fellow knights with their dates, prestigious individuals, and even guest appearances of royalty all made their presence known this evening. The ballroom rumbled with banter and the supple elegance of violins and instruments requiring skilled, experienced hands. Thankfully, knights from foreign lands had the option of dressing up in either their work uniforms made of heated steel, or their best tailored suits sutured by the best in all the lands; this lowered his significance here.
Goodness had this night come alive. It wasn't until the castle was brimming with personality that he noticed how decadent everything around him was presented, he'd felt like the first to arrive but what had been an hour felt like mere minutes to him as he'd forgotten how he'd been mistaken as one of the stationed guards upon passing through the gates. Though he was tall and his armor was heavy, his steps were surprisingly light and graceful as they'd make only the faintest of clanks along the ballroom floor when he stepped. Famished from his way over he take part in the consumption of pricey-looking h'orderves. Handmade tea sandwiches and delicious cheeses from unknown origins waltzed along his taste buds.
His compliments to the chef.
He chose not to eat too much, however, following the example of the shameless knight in dull but polished steel-blue armor who'd lifted the thumbed up the face plate of his masked in order to stuff his face full. His eyes felt sullied by watching how this mongrel behaved and brought shame to his kingdom and his fellow man. Raphael sighed and uttered something along the lines of,"Why not hoist up the entire tray and stuff it down your gullet while you're at it?"while crossing paths with the shameless knight from behind. All the while he'd secured himself a lanky glass of clear wine and sipped it. The man paid him no mind as he was too busy getting his fill of food and liquor as though tonight was his last on Earth. Despicable.
As the night passed more noblemen arrived, dressed extravagantly for the occasion. Meanwhile, Raphael had long since finished his drink and kept to himself. He'd have a few passing, short conversations with the guests to keep from appearing asocial and standing out. The knight didn't want to cause any discomfort after-all. His focus went to and fro, catching half conversations ranging from the current state of affairs occurring in the kingdom's government to the current state of affairs occurring in the bedrooms of unfaithful lovers. Were humans always so gossipy? Well, yes, for as long as he could remember. There are those that constantly spout how the times have changed, but those individuals haven't lived over several generations.
Even now his ears, could pick up the sounds of a woman constantly denying a thin, prudish man her hand in dance and merriment.'Great...it's getting closer.'He mused. The white knight could just feel his bad fortune rising, but he tried to ignore it in hopes that they'd just pass him by. He shouldn't have worn this suit of armor, people may have actually expected for him to play his role of the white knight tonight. However, as he'd suspected when he heard the call of the sultry voice ring behind him, he'd turn himself around just in time to have a delicate pair of arms greedily coil around him. His sea blue hues met the gaze of the porcelain skinned woman standing in front of him. Such lavish locks and mesmerizing eyes, her features, although supple and modest, were graceful and complimented her womanly charm perfectly. A smile crept along his lips to match the one he received just moments ago and then back to the scrawny, older gentleman who'd been seething with jealousy."Why, I'd love to."He replied in a honeyed yet deep tone, their eyes meeting once more.
Well, Raphael couldn't say that he didn't enjoy this part of the job~
The woman was quite forward as well, she even snaked a drink away from one of the trays and offered it to him. Taken aback from the suddenness his eyes scanned the sanguine fluid calmly swaying in the while glass before humbly accepting it with a smile; allowing a glimpse of his perfectly aligned pearly whites."You're too kind, Miss, but please, allow me to at least feign the existence of chivalry."He joked with a small but lively chuckle. He held the glass in his hand as the raven haired beauty insisted on seeing his face, even going as far as unclasping the bearings on his helmet and cape; toying with the face-plate. With his free hand he finished the duty by calmly whisking the helmet away entirely, his face revealed and the sun-toned light from chandeliers only further complimented his features.
Raphael's hair flowed even more fantastically now. An alabaster white thick and full but doughy like clouds. He had appeared young, not a strand of facial hair. His lips were full like that of a woman, colored in with a natural, gentle rosiness that most couldn't even apply so perfectly with makeup. Not a single blemish on his smooth face and his eyes stared down to her, bright and cut from the purest of sapphires. Most were tall and lanky, some were thick and brutish, but Raphael was a modest balance of tall, strong, and handsome, if not a bit feminine looking, all in a single go. The genes of his birth-givers were kind to him even if he'd never truly known them.
With one hand he'd sip the wine and politely set it aside with his helmet. Next he would re-interlock his arm with the lovely woman beside him."Now then, shall we dance?"Linked arm in arm he calmly to the center of the ballroom where numerous couples had gathered where he'd lead her into a gentle waltz after adapting to the rhythm of the soulful tune the performers played. Raphael felt comfortable somehow, he was so tightly wound before, paranoid about someone recognizing him but now his worrying ceased. He took the lady's hand, lacing them by the fingers but realizing that he was still in his metallic gauntlets. His other hand placed itself ceremoniously onto her hip without the slightest hint of perversion."Please forgive me, milady, had I known I'd be in a waltz with a beautiful woman tonight I would've come better suited for merriment and not for war."He explained, embarrassed by his indirectly inappropriate and ungentlemanly attire to his dance partner of the evening; yet, his smile displayed on his lips ever cracked.
All things to be considered, there was never a moment when the vain Meraxes foresaw a negative outcome. Every tapestry to be woven would woo at her actions for seaming fine control in every direction she saw. So for him to...oblige, was nothing short of expecting the usual. Usually. The tone he addressed her with was fairly quick, thoughtful, and most of all; pleasant. For the affair of wicked want, the sharp eyed woman would begin to formulate a cavity-dark interest in her date of the hour. She mused he was doing her a favor by accepting her advances, initially. The best part that now revealed behind his actions was that he didn't do this out of kindness like most would have done. Then left when they got what they wanted. No, he was doing this because he wanted to. The dark stirs. And the draconic mistress takes delight. The hearts of the dark were easier to read than the hearts of the twisted. Which one was he? The vulpine sylph would wonder with an easy smile. Which one, do you choose to be?
Well inked eyes saw his face better from up front. The remnants of it before the helmet was removed; she surmised would be a face that told a story. A true dragon never broke her gaze at a worthwhile gem; and she smiled a little differently now without betraying her mind's intent. Because the glory was kind to visit her tired eyes in the way that it bestowed her a worthwhile sight. To at least feign, he says. As he feigned the image of a humble Knight, only to appear like a child of alabastrine skies. Cherubic, charming, and chivalrous. Could there be no better lie? "My, my, I shouldn't put your efforts to waste then.~"
The way those smooth glades of rich blues cast at her flared an interest going beyond simple play. It incited a particular hunger in her eyes the way she openly admired the strapping young man's comely visage. "Why, Ser," She'd begin after gentle fingertips brushed from when he accepted her offered glass. Plush lips would glimmer as they moved. "--the helmet absolutely does nothing for you." And she knew she was right, along with the many others who stole breathless stares at the handsome knight under the party glow. Her hand accepting his mailed hand as her gown followed after saying: "It would more than make my night." The contrast of the couple was a sight to see. A dark driven beauty meshing with a shining man of the light. The rose of Carmen was put in shame over the tale that was to come, from the stunning pair in the centerfold as they danced.
The shape of his much larger hand combed her dainty digits with care and as much as he would behoove his explanations in consideration of this dance, she wouldn't hear it. Hardly minding the soft singing of his armor's weight as most of it went unheard anyway. Which by the way impressed her onto of his classical dancing education. "You're fine the way you are, Ser. There is nothing to forgive." Spoke the dark mistress. The next step and arc of the ballroom moving with a hidden enchantment: enthrallment. Her petite feet nearly soundlessly echoing with his lead in tandem as her gown would gracefully sweep along her ankles. "Most girls hop with joy at the idea of dancing with an incredibly handsome Knight. Very fairy-tale. Very, hm-hm~ Exciting." A ringing chuckle.
Merriment. War. Sometimes, they were not very different. Thick lashes fanned before the waterline as she then gave him a smoldering gaze from magma molten twins. "What's a knight to do, if not prepared for either? I do hope I haven't stolen you from anyone, or any matter." Though the way she looked, one could believe that she was never sorry for anything. Even as her fingers would delicately curl over his armored arm as though the plating didn't exist. There was something she really enjoyed about this man. Beyond his dazzling appearance, his flawless scriptures, it was that he himself had an aura that said: I am what most cannot become. "Though I'd be a liar, to say I would be sorry. And again, if I said I didn't want to hog you for the entirety of it." She studied his expression, the lamb-like purity that crowned within the muscles of his features. Wondering how that might again change with the better. "I could see those girls crying, and my heart would not move an inch to let you go." And a laughter would spray light, airy, and silver into the yuletide air. Knowing her words rung true and with certainty.
Oh how could one rebuke such a serene feeling such as this. Gracious of the circumstances it appeared that Raphael had changed his stance on helping a damsel in distress if said damsel could hold a conversation whilst dancing. Often flying at a low altitude his wings carried him beneath the radar under more troublesome individuals while his appearance tended to attract blissfully ignorant women without depth, or the occasional male who'd been so far in the closet that he'd find the two year old wardrobe of his wife's a perfect fit. Either way this was a refreshing change of pace.
An intriguing yet alarming factor, however, was in fact his partner's wit. There was something quite unique about her but it eluded him. A certain gleam in her eyes that was both familiar and foreign. Much to his dismay but none to his surprise he'd half to keep on his toes; both literally and figuratively now.
As the pairing danced they'd take the ballroom by storm! They'd attracted the eye of many onlookers including the scrawny man whom his partner had declined and the stout knight with a large chicken bone halfway enveloped in his mouth. Others still danced away, side-liners still conversed amongst one another, but the pair had certainly become noticeable. All the while Raphael silently admired her beauty. Such grace. Such lavish dark hair to compliment her deep pools of brilliant red and soft skin. Like a rose blooming under the midnight sky.
His plated mail faintly clanked over the gentle tapping of the woman's feet as they glided along the marble floor. Raphael's lips cracked and a chuckle escaped them. His date of the evening had quite a slick tongue on her. he could only respect the nonchalance in her approach in flirtation and lack of shame if she'd stolen the knight away from a beloved one for tonight. He shared in her laughter but he knew her words to be true from just hearing the sternness in her voice."My my. And what should we tell your husband of such open expressions of your unfaithfulness? Hm?"The knight smirked facetiously, his gaze shifting over to the lanky, older individual whom she'd previously turned down after multiple advances. The balding man still side-eyed them, staring daggers as he loitered around one of the pristine tables spread with food and drink with a half empty wineglass in his hand.
And then at the moment where his partner would've followed his gaze to her rejected date, Raphael would slyly coil an arm around her slender waist, holding her and dipping her in a just as the pace in the music shifted. He held her, sapphires shimmering as he peered into her heart through those burning embers of hers. His hair draped over him, shrouding his face to all but her."However, it'd be an affair that I'd wear as proudly as I do the sigil crafted into my armor's chest. So that your lovers both past and present may gaze upon us with jealous eyes and woeful hearts for the beauty I've stolen from them."Raphael chimed, rosy lips mere inches away from her collar.
A flutter of excitement in his chest. Although tempting he'd refrain at least for the moment so that he may not come off as some ill-mannered second-rate knight.
She was so very sleek, weightless upon his fingertips as he helped lift her body back up to align with solid ground. Still the knight held her without the faintest of hints in releasing her. If he was to be her knight in shining armor he could at least play the role properly and woo her a little."However, it occurs to me that if you are to incur the wrath of any lover that I have, then you'd at least need my name, correct? Sir Percival F. Griffith at your service milady."The man finally introduced with a lie as white as his hair and a smile as innocent as any virgin bride. Whether or not his date could seek the falsehood in his words he sounded earnest in the very least.
The mark of a true liar was sounding so believable that you'd come to believe your own deception afterall. Raphael had gone by this name for such a long time now that he probably wouldn't respond should someone call out his real one.
"And I fought those savages three straight nights. The least they could've done was find me a good batch of ale to drown out the noise on my day off!" Grunted a rather gaudily dressed man on the verge of dying from a feast. Sir Biron, as he preferred anyone that spoke within five feet of him referred to him as, had gone on about his so called "exploits". It was the same story, a large scale battle somewhere no one was familiar with, and either a hoard of savages or even a band of ogres. It didn't really matter besides the fact that these "Debutants" at up these lies more than the that guy in the corner stuffing his face with the Hors d'oeuvres.
Now whom was this regal being that crosses between pure masculinity and unadulterated savagery that piled his plate with various funky smelling cheeses? Many of the ball-goers looked on in disgust, while others noticed the way his hair could stand up in such a way that incited respect. As the well described man ate his tower of cheese a meat platter made its way into the room.
Trying to reach for the ample-chested curvaceous woman carrying around the platter Sir Biron decided to reach for the only pork dish labeled "Illuah Hide" the same time our hero did.
"Well I say good sir, have you faced tw-twelve Dragons in the savage lands while you platoon was a day away from coming to your rescue? This may surprise you but I am Sir Biron Slayer of the three hundred dragons of the southeastern plains. Meat wench, hand me that dish at once!" Veins would hemorrhage along the pompadoured fellows luxurious nape and succulent cheeks until they reached his youthful hairline."Look hear swill..." He'd say with a pearly white smile so charming it swooned over every dame five feet of their spat. Even the ample-chested curvaceous minx that carried the platter had no defense against such an Oscar winning DiCaprio grimace. "Not like it'd even matter if I asked, but who were you fighting in the savage lands? Was it a band of Trolls or the Ogre boss that slew your captain? Where were you trained, where are you from?"
Our handsome stranger brought the stuck up aristocrats back down to earth with a single comment. With a hand over the baby fat of his shoulder, Sir Biron would feel a great weight force him to the ground. Snatching up the curvaceous waitress he brought his swagged out self closer to the frame of her face. "It appears I haven't introduced myself lady of the delectable "Meats"! Dearest Punk Father Daddy of the Kin, Hadrian Kimbah, at your service!"
She sparked a flame and he kept it going. Hotter and hotter they would crackle over the dull marbles until together they would become fire opal. Truant, but truthful. She couldn't remember how long she spent with an astoundingly interesting pace of conversation. Too long to bother remembering, too long ago to be important. There were smooth silvers running clean through his pearly teeth however she delighted in his cynical sense of humor. One she found richer than bitterness. More earthly than black soil that filled the mounds of the ghastly earth. Her ears and eyes picked up, lilted at the man's funny choice of words. The faintest hint of a muscle strewing inwardly to cast a raise in her perfect brow.
Vulpine lips darkening at the ends to prepare a sharp fixture. Pretty as a picture. "...what is faith to you, ser?" Sweeter than a swisher. Her cheeks pulled fairly high to reveal dainty teeth just as well at that thought and again harmonious laughter would ring out. Her faint perfume dancing along from the twirls and the strides. Her decadent delight this time a sounding a little stronger. "Ahahaha~!" The thought of that, a husband. Like most girls when she was little she did dream of one. Handsome, stellar, strong, reliable. Her younger self had the best of that brand. He never sat higher than her throne and never outlived what her visions could entail. "Well let's see," yet up until this day, there haven't been as many as she found close to her expectations.
Clip. Clop. Trot, step, step, spin.
The entire time he was dancing on a record of his own. Extending an arm every so second if he must but never going more unless he was drawn by worthy game. High up, he stands. Yet low he looks, with darkness awaiting in every glare. Little by little, playful interest seeded closer to deadly obsession. And she was alright with that. "If I settled on one, I'd beat him down with the sight of you in my arms. Because there's quite nothing.." At one moment she might lean her face a little closer, the aid of her heels at one point helping with the uppity swing of the waltz. Watching the mare get lost in constant snowfall. Though he was right in front of her, in united grasp, he was so vivid to keep a fix on. So lurid and lovely and delicious. Her lips might have accidentally brushed unapologetic against the vein of his throat between closer steps. "..like a man doing what he wants to." Every rose had it's thorns, but not every glove bore a soft hand. Under the chandeliers her eyes would glare an allure that kept with the movements made stellar by her partner's efforts. The glitter of her gown would sway, masked gracefully by the cape that belonged to her partner's, the rest of her finding no difficulty again ignoring the jealous sack that was burdened to the gender of man.
Unfaithful. Unflinching. Even as they danced, sarcasm on either Knight or Lady made them look more cunning in the hour. But for him, poison to be dripped on marinated him to her eyes even more. Grand wizard. Warlord. He didn't have to show riches, and it wasn't about chivalry. It was the mark of a new Abyss. The dark beauty found it hard stopping her rumination of his unguarded acts. Her weight would roll off his hands from where he dipped her low, gracious and gentle. Her hair and faint jewels swaying from the motion together hanging off his steel encased plated digits. Her perfume more romantic to him in the closeness they shared for this crucial moment. Chest rising and lowering from the blood being rushed in the swing of their dance. The lush of his voice carrying a wonderful reverberation through the valley of her breasts where her throat rung with sultry laughter. "Their misery comes second to my delight of your claim." A clever finger would move from the cap of his shoulder to ring a rosy circle with his snowy white locks. "Haah~" Gingerly stroking the soft of his neck that bared from it's absence before that same digit would trace his jawline. Slow. Deliberate. And off his chin her finger would sway. "Now that you've stolen me, I wonder if that means you're also able to keep me?" She uttered a breathy whisper. A coiled black mamba shimmering somewhere in the wreathes of her eyes the way her gaze burned looking outward from his gaze. 𝔊 𝔥 𝔬 𝔰 𝔱 .
They resumed their previous positions. He however surprised her with the slow arrival of his name. A mannerism she herself had steadily forgotten about and was slightly grateful for him to remember for them both. Fun. A doe's blush and blink, when her waterlines again revealed her eyes however housed something more than just polite interest in his name. "Ser Griffith, then." She would repeat with gentleness and almost as though she didn't believe the name. Or maybe, to unsettle him. She must forget this nasty habit although it was harder not to when he was ideally the white knight.
"Meraxes. For your lovers past and present to scream it in anguish." Despite the coldblooded statement being said she giggled without a single care. A few already had quite settled back away from them with audible gasps and a moment of stitched silence. Only kidding, that would have been the case if these simpletons were there for what had happened years and years ago. When her name was at the height of her infamy for numerous unforgivable curses abound. Like most of them, her name only mattered to those who outlived average mortal lives. Take one Hadrien Kimbah for example, a blustering pureblood who could be heard loudly in his tall tales not far across. Yet her focus was only on the man who had been dancing with her for the evening. Though incidentally, again her eyes would fall prey to a deeply folded stare. Her eyes a lascivious set of crimsons burning more alarming for a mere mortal woman.
"Why Ser Griffith, the more I look at you, the more I believe that I've seen you before...once upon a time. Why is it so, hmm?" She'd lean closer, and closer....so dangerously close. To where her raised chin would allow the cusp of her lips to breathe a grievous blow of a dragon's whisper over the bump of his throat.
"My imagination, maybe," Said the mistress with a dulcet tone. Her cheek resting lightly against his metal breast.
xxxxxxxxx"--𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝑦𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔪𝔢𝔩𝔩 𝔬𝔣 𝓒𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔞𝔤𝔢."
The lowest whispers, reserved for the lowest vermins that emblazoned the dance floor today, imparted for him to hear and understand. And then a light hum would follow, as she would softly lead his movements away from the center and to the balcony. Dainty hands intertwined in his steel glove. If he would look at her, he would see her gaze locked into his. One only a woman in love might have second best comparable...also to a murderer who delights in being the only one to know where she's hidden her hatchet.
