(Untitled)

[stygian_promise]

It was dreadfully loud.

Normally this would be a pleasing thing, but sometimes the damned really needed to learn how to shut up. Really now, after an eternity one would imagine that you'd get used to it.

Really it was perfect - all chaos and darkness - but honestly all she wanted was a freaking cup of coffee. Please, even

Comments

[puckishly]

And wherever there's a lovely lady and caffeine, Puck can't be far away.

The fashion-conscious will note that the young man currently leaning back against Styx's table is rather a sloppy dresser: His definition of "chic" appears to include worn jeans and a faded, poorly buttoned shirt with its sleeves rolled to the elbow. His hair's a bit of a mess, too-- all in all, he looks as if he's just come from either bed or a windstorm ... or, perhaps, some odd combination of the two.

He flashes Styx a grin.

[stygian_promise]

The 'freshly sexed' look is good on him, really. Makes her terribly jealous, if she was to be honest. But, alas, we are not well known for our honesty - or for being terribly complimentary.

The grin is returned, quick and sharp over the rim of her cup.

"Hello, dear."

[puckishly]

Well, it's a lovely thought all the same, and it's probably a good thing that Puck isn't aware of it.

His own smile is positively guileless in comparison to Styx's.

"How does the lady fare?"

[stygian_promise]

It's probably best if most people remain unaware of what she's thinking - it's frightening in there.

"Very well, thank you." Her voice is low and polite - sweet as honey - and she tilts her head in invitation. "And yourself?"

[eldorne_girl]

[well, Delia has always been attracted to beings of power and beauty - a personality flaw, perhaps, or maybe just years of being a courtier and a rather fucked-up one at that.]

[power and beauty and pain]

[to the casual observer, Delia appears to be young, lovely, and delicate. Thick, dark chestnut hair to her waist, a pair of bright-green eyes and pert nose. To the supernaturally inclined, Delia is dead. God-marked, perhaps, because of the star-burst scar on her left hand, but dead.]

[stygian_promise]

Dead, perhaps, but not screaming and at the moment that is all that one can ask for. She's not picky.

Okay, well, she is - and terribly so - but that's hardly what's being discussed at the moment.

We are talking about lovely things and the girl certainly is. Beautiful and fine and flawed, twisted things are always the finest.

The Lady blinks dark eyes, traces the mug's rim with one elegant finger and smiles politely. No one is screaming - the good mood remains.

[eldorne_girl]

I take it you are new, my lady?

[Delia asks in her light, husky voice. The voice matches the short skirt and high boots, the tones are too cultured and educated.]

[stygian_promise]

"Relatively, dear."

Her voice is a purr, low and pleasant, and her eyes are black like her coffee.

"And yourself?"