(no subject)
[Larxene is bored. She's sitting by an open bay window in the dressing room, feeling vaguely irritated at nothing and everything at the same time.
A small orange and black butterfly drifts in and alights on the table next to her hand. She does not move, at first, chosing only to regard the insect with vague disinterest.
Just when the butterfly appears ready to to take flight again, her left hand darts out and captures it. She can feel the butterfly's wings frantically hitting the inside of her palm as it struggles to get away.
Her mouth curves into the barest of smirks, and the glint in her hooded eyes verges on cruelty.]
Hmm. What to do with you.
A small orange and black butterfly drifts in and alights on the table next to her hand. She does not move, at first, chosing only to regard the insect with vague disinterest.
Just when the butterfly appears ready to to take flight again, her left hand darts out and captures it. She can feel the butterfly's wings frantically hitting the inside of her palm as it struggles to get away.
Her mouth curves into the barest of smirks, and the glint in her hooded eyes verges on cruelty.]
Hmm. What to do with you.