(Untitled)

[notsoharmless]

Blood, unfortunately, stains

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[always_a_liar]

A figure in black approaches silently, leaned against her dresser. Blue eyes watching her carefully with a tilt of his head. A touch of a smile on his face. He liked to watch her.

"Astoreth."

[notsoharmless]

"My lord."

The observation game suited her just fine. She didn't turn, but did smile, reflected in her mirror.

All the while fighting with aforementioned hair.

Pompadours are complicated.

"Does this look proper, from the back?"

[always_a_liar]

Ishamael slowly walked behind her, a calm circling motion, like a predator, or a carrion eater circling something that was about to die.

"Yes, Astoreth, it does."

A pause as a delicate finger traces on her neck.

"Readying for this evening?"

[notsoharmless]

Which, she would hope, was not a form of foreshadowing her inevitable future.

She smiled at his hand -- that same thin-lined smile, the one that wasn't born from manic amusement.

"It may take me all day to do so."