In her glass was a bleeding man
She was practiced at the art of deception
Well I could tell by her blood-stained hands
You can't always get what you want
How long she had slept was not known. She remembered white dresses. White promises. White lies. She remembers a dance with a masked man who should have remained dead. Of Fio's kiss--rousing herself from a pile of lustrous gleaming furs, a hand to her side told her the kiss had long since healed. But the scar would remain. This pleased her then and it did now, despite her clouded state.
Spreading out as sweet as any sin, Suliss'urns unbound hair was glow-fall in lichen light. Speaking a soft command, faerie fire burned deep; throwing rich purple light in the cavern she called her home. A bed for sleeping. A table for sitting. A chair with that table. They were clawed and ruined things, this table and chair. Much like their master. Other than that, the cavern gleamed with books: enchanted books, books with ice on their spines, books with dancing runes and normal looking books too. But that was not all it gleamed with. Treasure. Stolen things. Gold, silver, mithril, platinum....if anyone were powerful enough to break the seals and find her lair, they would mistake it for a dragon's.
The distant tinkle of water was as it should be. The silence, too. Why then, did she feel as if she were missing s....
There was a man at the table. The man had green eyes as bright as balefire and dark hair shorn short to his skull. His features were severe, his mouth down-turned slightly as if he found everything distasteful. She hissed.
"You are naut supposed to be here." There's a note in her rasp that might have actually been a tentative question.
"Are you still living in this hole?" He sighed, disapprovingly.
"You are naut supposed to be here!" Her voice rising, as her emotions solidified and as always, anger became fore-front.
Ghostly Visitors SL]]
~You Can't Always Get What You Want: Rolling Stones
She was practiced at the art of deception
Well I could tell by her blood-stained hands
You can't always get what you want
How long she had slept was not known. She remembered white dresses. White promises. White lies. She remembers a dance with a masked man who should have remained dead. Of Fio's kiss--rousing herself from a pile of lustrous gleaming furs, a hand to her side told her the kiss had long since healed. But the scar would remain. This pleased her then and it did now, despite her clouded state.
Spreading out as sweet as any sin, Suliss'urns unbound hair was glow-fall in lichen light. Speaking a soft command, faerie fire burned deep; throwing rich purple light in the cavern she called her home. A bed for sleeping. A table for sitting. A chair with that table. They were clawed and ruined things, this table and chair. Much like their master. Other than that, the cavern gleamed with books: enchanted books, books with ice on their spines, books with dancing runes and normal looking books too. But that was not all it gleamed with. Treasure. Stolen things. Gold, silver, mithril, platinum....if anyone were powerful enough to break the seals and find her lair, they would mistake it for a dragon's.
The distant tinkle of water was as it should be. The silence, too. Why then, did she feel as if she were missing s....
There was a man at the table. The man had green eyes as bright as balefire and dark hair shorn short to his skull. His features were severe, his mouth down-turned slightly as if he found everything distasteful. She hissed.
"You are naut supposed to be here." There's a note in her rasp that might have actually been a tentative question.
"Are you still living in this hole?" He sighed, disapprovingly.
"You are naut supposed to be here!" Her voice rising, as her emotions solidified and as always, anger became fore-front.
Ghostly Visitors SL]]
~You Can't Always Get What You Want: Rolling Stones