Post by Wicked Game on Dec 15, 2005 23:27:10 GMT -4
The demoness dubbed Wicked Game slinked through the forest, her dial held low towards the terra. Her canals flared at the scent that had led her to this strange land. Her auds caught a quick, deep sound as they flickered upon her skull. She tossed her cranium towards the stars as her harks metled. She exposed her emeralds as she stood listening to the whipsers. Finally relaxing her barrel she continued to plod through the darkness. Her daggers left noticeable prints through the soft mud. Her coat now splotched with a dark brown, was at first tainted black. Let alone the crimson drops from the maggots that she had murdered that dared to land upon her pelt. Her pelt was no color now, just a mess. No distinct color, ugly. Her eyes crazed with demons lurched around the forest, deciphering her next move. She found a beaten path that had disturbed her mowing of the shrubs. She outstretched her nape and gave a high pitched scream, followed by a deep curse throughout the forest. Her pins twitching, trying to catch the slightest sound of a dark lord amongst her midst. Lowering her mug to a dying flower, she ripped it from its roots. A large smirk appeared on her maw. A deep echo could be heard through the forest, her harks pinned at the new voice.
She cursed,
Go on,
Scream at me again
It makes me feel wanted
This curse beckoned the darkling to meet Wicked. She wanted to have this intruder play her game. Her orbs danced around the forest for any inkling that movement had been aroused. Her whiplash smacked the flies rhymically, as she used her front dagger to dig a slight hole in the ground out of sheer boredom. She arched her nape, allowing her chains to rest at her side, reaching down towards the topography. Sneering to herself, interrupting the akward silence.
She cursed,
Go on,
Scream at me again
It makes me feel wanted
This curse beckoned the darkling to meet Wicked. She wanted to have this intruder play her game. Her orbs danced around the forest for any inkling that movement had been aroused. Her whiplash smacked the flies rhymically, as she used her front dagger to dig a slight hole in the ground out of sheer boredom. She arched her nape, allowing her chains to rest at her side, reaching down towards the topography. Sneering to herself, interrupting the akward silence.