divinity will stain your fingers and mouth like a pomegranate; it will swallow you whole and spit you out
I’m Morrighan, the Regent of this Court - do you even know where you are? What had begun as an innocent gesture (as far as Vercingtorix’s standards went, anyways) quickly deteriorates. He doesn’t mind, however. There is a moment where something akin to anger flashes in his eyes; but then it is gone. He leans back, and offers a languid smile. “I’m sorry,” Torix offers, but there is nothing apologetic in the curl of his mouth. “Are you wearing a name tag? Your reputation doesn’t proceed you, Regent.” He takes a slow drink. “I’m in Denocte, trying to enjoy myself. But so far it doesn’t seem very welcoming to foreigners, despite your Sovereign’s open gates.” Vercingtorix cuts his eyes at her, sidelong.
Normally, he would leave.
Normally, he would de-escalate with a charming smile, or genuine apology. He would offer a real smile, not the caustic thing maring his face now. He would say he was only teasing, pulling a leg. Of course he had known she was the Regent! How could he not recognise her?
But tonight is not the night for that. Behind his eyes Boudika dances in ribbons and gilded gold; she is sun-bright and ferocious and everything he did not deserve to touch, but could not leave.
“I already told you,” Vercingtorix answers. “I gave you my name; what else do you want? My life story? You don’t seem like the type to give a fuck about that.”
The wolf’s hackles are rising; he is not the only one.Yet, for all appearances, Vercingtorix rests there as if Morrighan is not brimming with her rage, and her companion with teeth.
"Speech." || @Morrighan
wine-dark and wanting. you will reach for it again and again, greedy human fingers clutching at everything you can reach. the divine will curl its way through your veins and take you over, and it will not leave you quietly. i feel divinity in my bones like aching; like fire.
