glitter and gold is the man in the chair
rings on his fingers, and a hardened harsh stare
rings on his fingers, and a hardened harsh stare
While hardened warriors like Avdotya and Maxence slept in the wee hours of the night, Velorca was often awake, partaking in less than savoury activities. Tonight was no different - he was wound around one of the newest recruits, sweat lingering upon his satin skin, a breathy smile on his razor lined face. The last thing he expected to hear was Maxence - in fact, with a cooling, exhausted soldier in his bed it was the last voice he wanted to hear. His brows furrowed instantly, purring;
"Get out."
To the soldier beside him. The man looked up, bewildered, then proceeded to stumble out of the room when he beheld the cool ire on Lorca's exquisite face. After a moment, the serpentine sage got to his feet, checked his reflection in the dainty pool of water he had somehow managed to claim in his room and then strode out of the door.
Slipping from shadow to shadow, his silver skin little more than a dim shine in the darkness, Lorca peered at his Sovereign and Regent, unseen in the nooks of their home. Had Maxence finally had enough and decided to assassinate him? Using Avdotya as the executioner? Velorca refused to believe she would accept such an offer against another of her clan-mates. So, death or no, he coiled out of the shadows with an eloquent and unusually subdued;
"Maxence. Avdotya. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"
The word rolled off of his tongue as if it were licking their spines, lupine eyes close to glowing in the dim light.
@Maxence @Avdotya yeeeeewwww
