lips turns into a winsome grimace -- even in her indignation, her divinity possesses grandeur. tales of vacuous valor and abrasiveness shall be told to her children and comrades for years to come, if this brazen little bastard in front of her eyes does not subdue the bratty attitude down and proffer the rightful reverence her highness deserves. she is the child of the underworld lord himself -- holy ubiety, eulogized... lips turn into smirk. oh, she is in so much trouble for speaking discourteously to her highness inha.
❛ i think you may have forgotten who you’re talking to, my dear. ❜ chortle almost acrid, vitriolic -- of venom which spills past her lips in rancorous verbosity and of mien so haughty ( so vile yet so beautiful and poised ) thus kindles through rapacious and solemn gander through the eyes of the insolent woman. the successor to the throne with golden leaves across her head -- beatitude grace and discernment all together come to form her ravishing physique and inha, be the inexorable ruler she is, shows no leniency. naught but her smile is shown to proffer a sense of softness. ❛ i am not one of your toys to mess around with when you’re feeling dull -- i am not here to satisfy your needs. your wishes came true because i see value in you alive more than you are dead, and was certain you’d comply to me. if you don’t want to be burned alive for your brothers and sisters to witness -- i suggest dropping this attitude all at once and fix the mess you’ve made. ❜
❛ or else... ❜ ╱ @hellbits : cont.
