#coralscorpion

Look at him being so happy

Continued from here, @coralscorpion

Oh, she knew that look. That sense of fear… that ‘oh shit, I’m fucked’ look. Cassandra had seen it many times on the faces of those who had pissed her off or those who were already in the dungeon cells and waiting to see which daughter was sent to play with them. She enjoyed that look most times.  But now? That expression just brought confusion to Cassandra’s mind. Maria hadn’t pissed her off so why was she so scared? Emotions with mortals were so weird, caused so much trouble since they full of nuances and subtleties. Cassandra never took the time to properly dissect them or weed them out. Why couldn’t they just talk normally?

She sat on her bed and listened to Maria’s plight and plea, chewing her lip and looking down on the ground as she did. Maids seemed to find it easier to talk if she wasn’t staring at them. Why? Fear, predatory dominance, something else… take your pick. Any reason worked. It also meant they couldn’t see her face as she thought. Were a million things running through her head right now, weighing the actions and consequences? Hell, no. Again, subtleties and multi-faceted things wasn’t how she operated. She usually made up her mind rather easily regarding what she wanted. And when she got what she want, she often was territorial with what she claimed as hers.

Continued from here, @coralscorpion

“Hmmm….. new enough that you don’t yet know the layout of the castle. Interesting.” She almost laughed as the servant turned to leave, but when she paused in her efforts to flee, Cassandra’s eyebrow quirked, suddenly playing close attention to this little mortal mouse.

“You want to organize my things?” she asked, not believing what she had heard. To any outsider, Cassandra’s room was…. less than ideal. It wasn’t a hoarder’s den, but then again, it wasn’t pristine and spotless, either. There were piles of antlers in one corner, stacked as best as one could do, given the various sizes and species through together. The surfaces of her vanity and dresser held trinkets galore; shiny stones, feathers, jewelry, keepsakes, and any other small, non-perishable trophy or memorabilia she had found over the years. Stacks of books rested by the head of her bed, all within easy reach of someone laying down. Her closet? The less said about it the better. Despite efforts, even her mother had eventually realized Cassandra’s room was her own domain, and nothing could change it save for herself.

She saw Maria’s gaze linger on the taxidermied fox that lounged on the stack of pelts. It had been Cassandra’s first attempt the make her equivalent of a stuffed animal or plushie. The stuffing was a bit much, distorting the belly a bit, but perhaps she enjoyed the potbellied plushie that was Revi the fox.

Rather than answer the girl right away, Cassandra took her time examining the blade in her hand, running the whetstone slowly over its length, letting the grinding sound being the only noise in the room for a bit. But eventually she spoke.