i was born to make the world shatter and shake at my fingertips
An ear, idle and half-hearted in its gentle motion, pivots towards Ipomoea’s approaching footfalls that grow louder and louder; closer and closer. She listens to each step and slowly curls her neck around her shoulder to the tune of the chirring bone of her garb, catching his eye just perfectly when he enters the room. ”Don’t fret,” she coos back to him, ”the outfit is the perhaps only lavish thing about me.” Avdotya smiles then, and she turns to face him while he tends to the plants that so eagerly seek his attention. Odd, really, to watch leaves and vines follow a man like lost little ducklings.
She tries her best not to mind them (but truly, it is somewhat creepy).
”Avdotya. Sans the ‘Lady’, it does not suit me.” She pauses after, leaving the silence to hang heavily in the air while she ponders his question. What does he owe the pleasure- a Davke come to finish what the desert should have done long ago? No, not today. Surely Solis spared this man for some purpose - she is keen to find it. ”I simply come out of curiosity, Ipomoea, for I have heard tales of a Deluminian King borne of the sands- or, perhaps more specifically, the Davke.” Her head tilts with child-like interest, yet somehow still lacks that youthful innocence.
And it is not long before the viper slips over to him, brushing away those reaching vines with sharp swipe of her tail. ”Do let me know if Ramses has fed me lies.” She is very precise in her use of Ramses’ name- it has meaning to him, she knows this, and the tone of her voice seems to carry the touch of a threat for that reason. Tell me a story, Ipomoea.
Again, she smiles.
@ipomoea
She tries her best not to mind them (but truly, it is somewhat creepy).
”Avdotya. Sans the ‘Lady’, it does not suit me.” She pauses after, leaving the silence to hang heavily in the air while she ponders his question. What does he owe the pleasure- a Davke come to finish what the desert should have done long ago? No, not today. Surely Solis spared this man for some purpose - she is keen to find it. ”I simply come out of curiosity, Ipomoea, for I have heard tales of a Deluminian King borne of the sands- or, perhaps more specifically, the Davke.” Her head tilts with child-like interest, yet somehow still lacks that youthful innocence.
And it is not long before the viper slips over to him, brushing away those reaching vines with sharp swipe of her tail. ”Do let me know if Ramses has fed me lies.” She is very precise in her use of Ramses’ name- it has meaning to him, she knows this, and the tone of her voice seems to carry the touch of a threat for that reason. Tell me a story, Ipomoea.
Again, she smiles.
@ipomoea
