#lordliing

"These automatons intrigue me. They lack a personal touch that I find is much appreciated when... mingling respectfully with the citizenry, but perhaps that, in itself, is a draw. Rather than a man with whom you can, in some manner of speaking, relate, know, or at least be aware of, it is a simple, faceless mass." She reaches forward, lightly flicking her finger against the breastplate of the Steel Watcher and lifting her chin to study where a face might be.

"...I will be blunt, Lord Gortash. I have heard of a plot, while in travel. Someone being spoken of as chosen by a particular god, in a way that belies a... familiarity. Though I have no interest in the plot and subsequent spoils thereof, it would be most foolish of me not to seek out..."

@lordliing asked: drop kicks a box in her direction and runs for it.

The couch wasn't nearly as comfortable as the lounges in the boudoir. Was it soft and plush? Sure, but the creations of mortals could never compare. Nevertheless, a devil with blue gray skin had settled themself on the furniture and had gotten as comfortable as possible while waiting for their unknowing host. And when the door to the office finally opened, they tossed the scroll they had stolen onto the floor.

"Little Envy!" they cooed. Haarlep sat up, causing the black, silk robe they were wearing to slip down one shoulder and expose half of their chest. The piece of clothing was loosely tied at the waist and moments away from falling open. Silk material ended at the tops of their thighs. A leather collar sat around their neck, a broken chain attached.

"My, my, look how much you've grown."

Her companions had advised her against talking to Bane's Chosen alone, she had worried Karlach would burn down her tent in pure anger after hearing that she was going to meet with him again, after hearing of her wanting to talk to the man all by herself. ' He'll try to sweet talk you to hell just to get you on his fucking side! ' she had said. In return, Wren had simply asked her if she took her for a fool — of course she knew to watch herself around a man who had build his empire on LIES. Even her amnesia riddled brain knew better than to blindly trust him. What she had not told her fiery friend, however, was the way her brain tried to tell her something in relation to him. There was something about him, something important that her memories could not quite stitch together anymore and so she had been left with no choice but to confront him directly. Alone this time, not surrounded by the watchful eyes of the patriars or her all too curious companions. She had allowed him to set the stage last time, a MISTAKE on her part. She would challenge him this time, if he wanted to put on a show she would be the only audience and she was harder to sway by his games than the nobles of the city.

Still — she spoke greatly of her resistance to other people's charms, boasted about being too smart to fall for other people's schemes, yet when he spoke to her she could not fully surpress the desire to take his words at surface value, to believe the words that, for all she knew right now, might not account to more than petty lies to lure her into his grasps. " It is easy for you to say that now when you know I cannot verify that your words are true, " she spoke, slowly, forcing herself to meet his eyes. Who will blink first — " You say this was OUR plan yet you continued it with my sister as if nothing had changed, " she pointed out, hating the angry accusation that infused every word. She had no right to be jealous, bitter, had no memories to support any of the emotions that had embedded themselves into her heart on their own volition and yet she felt them nonetheless.

The face that greets his is stunningly impassive for someone who, presumably, knows to whom she speaks. The interloper is flat-faced, straight-backed, and not even looking directly at him, instead surveying the sights in the same way he wasn't. Seconds pass in silence - a brief nod to acknowledge, at least, that she's trespassing. She orders her thoughts and continues, in the same calm, respectful, rather matter-of-fact tone.

"Economy of action." Three words, rife with implication. Thankfully the clarification comes quickly. "I am trespassing because others are conspiring to trespass. Information has made itself to me regarding why, and when." Almond eyes trace the narrow streets beneath - controlled space in the city. Somewhere people wouldn't tread with ill intent, unless they were stupid. Or brazen.

both hands vaguely give rise, staring them down as they turn over to reveal her palms. fingers itch and curl in sync - such masterworks of death they had wrought. how pleased they made her father.

Name: maevis. Gender: female General appearance: sleek, wavy black hair & slate grey eyes. cedar hued skin with a cobalt tinge & ( many ) dark freckles. stands at 5'5 with a slender build. Personality: she is mean. she is so fucking mean and vicious, but super intelligent that it's scary. creative and curious. she loves to bargain and find ways to outsmart people. Special Talents: daddy's little artillerist and mommy's necromantic magician. practically immortal? with a flutter of lashes and a quick smile, she can make anyone believe she's just an innocent girl. Who they like better: her mother, of course. since her father is. . . more or less not around. ; ) Who they take after more: while her physical features are closer to her mother's ( bhaalists just have better genes, ok ), maeve's personality is a mixture of both parents. she uses body language and hand gestures when speaking much like her father and is fascinated with ingenuity & technology. unfortunately, her anger can get the better of her and often times she doesn't think before acting, resulting in accidental casualties ( oopsie daisy ). dwarf meat is yummy. Personal headcanon: her first kill was scelaritas at age 5 years old, whom she usually targets to take her frustrations out on ( sorry, not sorry, mom ). she has a pet phase spiderling named chowder.