#syaked

☆ Curious footsteps take her everywhere, little pitter-patters upon the floor signifying arrival time. Destination; nowhere, really, just shadowing her love. Red eyes blink hazily as she zooms by, childish in hatred. It was surreal, to be cooped up in one world for so long, then to have it thrown back into the light, and everything moved around, everything changed! She inhales, and spicy hatred peppers her lungs. The red is h e a v y, crushing, almost harmful--and she relished it all the same. A door slams open, her hand upon it's side, and bright crimson eyes blink once, twice.

             " you’ll have to                      carry me there, caelan. “

with a split, blood - kissed grin that contemplates none but his own desecration, pride cringing beneath the vehement boot of this woman; he finds there no other place for him to run but mercy’s dull blade. she is stardust & iron, while he is an ant in the dirt, and perhaps he reveled in this masochistic nature all too soon.

What pusillanimous tongue durst assume to project upon the Warrior (for she is as her title implies —— corroded steel and rusted blood; tarnished soul and death worn like gloves upon her deft fingertips) their torrid ideals and false assumptions. This lowly peon pinned ❜neath a paladin heel, ground into dirt and dust, sanguine glee drenching his pallid features in its bloody varnish, grins as though pleasure is to be taken in his imminent demise. And so it is that silver eyne narrow ❜pon his visage, scowl transfixed as she removes pressure and boot from the Ambassador's chest and stands erect and stalwart; ne❜er one to grant the wishes of the unworthy. Iwis, were she such a savior herself, she'd no qualms with wresting his soul from flesh and bone. Alas, for though Mercy is the name of her blade, she shall not deign to name herself his harbinger, nor carry his weight upon her shoulders unto his death.