[P] tease a rattlesnake

[Pavetta]

p a v e t t a - - - The strange conversation with the mysterious unicorn in the woods left Pavetta unsettled. Unsettled and restless. You could be unstoppable… The words were branded in her mind, a fire she could not put out. She left the tree line, galloping through the swaying grass, kicking up her heels as she suddenly felt the urge to be surrounded by the hustle of the crowd, to be enveloped by the hum of music and shadows. Mostly she wanted to forget the silver eyed woman and the promises she had whispered. She shook her head, hair flying in the wind, and yet the sting of the black horn on her cheek lingered.  Lies….  The woman in black was just as Pavetta remembered the sorceresses of the mountain: cold, calculating, ethereal—telling Pavetta what she wanted—no—needed to hear. And like a fool, Pavetta believed it and yearned to know more despite the chilling sense of danger, of imminent peril.  She merged with the crowd, slowing her pace to a leisurely walk that was not without purpose. I need a drink. And drink she did, deeply, the fire spreading rapidly through her veins, burning and numbing at the same time. Only when her thoughts were drowned out by the buzz spreading in her head did she wander among the booths and vendors, trying her best not to stumble.   Pavetta stopped at the stage to watch a fire-eater dancing through his routine of flame and smoke. The crowd was a blur of faces but one stood out in particular. A red man, devilish almost. She had watched his performance earlier in the day and had been utterly fascinated by the savage blade on his tail and the intricate details he carved with it. She stared at him blatantly (quite emboldened by the wine), noting the rippling of his muscles, the easy way in which he carried himself. She waited for him to notice her gaze and then promptly decided she was too impatient to wait. “You’re just a regular lumberjack with that thing, aren’t you?” A smirk pulled at her lips, her words laced in venom as she sidled through the crowd to settle at his side. Her blood ran hot, her head felt clouded. She didn’t know what she needed, what she wanted. She could only feel the wine, the hum of the crowd, the heaviness of the air in her lungs “It’s a shame you’d waste such a fine weapon on carving silly toys for children.” She goaded him, flirting with danger—poking a stick at a rattlesnake.  But Pavetta felt like playing with fire and she was bound to get burned.   a pearl in pigshit, a diamond on the finger of a rotting corpse, creature in whom nothing, but nothing, remains of an elven woman ---

art by the epic odeen

@Raymond