| The murmurs filled the streets, every darkened alley and shaded corner of her domain. They brushed across her skin, filtering through the air and into her awaiting, ever listening ears. Their silver queen had fallen to a silver monster wth a beast slavering at his heels. He was gathering at the steps to the citadel, calling upon this court to come stand before him. Soon, the roads she walked were empty, only the sound of her steps beating against the sand that covered them. Only the sound of her skirt whuspering across the ground, the lighter steps of Azrail as he followed along behind her, a shadow of death. Vendetta found the crowd gathered, buzzing, and she did not join them. She looked out from the shadows of a sandstone wall, listening to the mercury man calling from atop the steps. Her ruby eyes glittered as they looked over the creature at his side, eyes bound by a scarf, and she knew the reason but wondered why. Perhaps he had not enough control over he beast to stop it from turning whoever it wished to stone. ”A threat?” Azrail says, keenly aware of the thoughts of his bondmate, knowing what she sees through thoughts passed across their bond. “A promise,” she responds instead. Truthfully, she had no interest in a madman who wished to parade himself as a king, and what she saw in the blue of his eyes did not scare her in the least. What he thought was no doubt a threatening display only made her roll her shoulders and turn away. You did not make people fear you with blatant intimidation tactics and bloody badges. Anyone could make a mess when they kill. “Come, Azrail, I’ve got daggers to polish,” Vendetta said without looking back. The stag turned to follow, faithfully. Needless to say, she was not impressed. |
