"Mmhmm..." Titian calmed down a little bit, but kept his eyes glued to the Drider, just in case. He also tightened the scarf he wore by tugging on the ends a little.
Lucy jerked back in her chair. That - thing - was unnatural. The Saint would want her to purge it - but then, the Saint wanted a lot of things purged, didn't he?
In the same unsynchronised two voices: "She- she's not coming with us? Can we be seen with her? Why would we... want to be... why would you... too far? No, too far hasn't killed anyone... product of her culture?"
This dissolved into incoherent muttering as she realised she was thinking out loud.
Originally Posted by Fenn
You forgot your F in Modesty.
Mishka regarded the hooded woman now, wings twitching and kicking up a small gust subconsciously. A serene smile crossed her face. Perhaps she appreciated the fear?...
"Be at ease. I'll simply be a whisper in your ear. A shadow in the corner of your vision." If you closed your eyes, that voice could nearly count as soothing... Never mind the fact she clearly didn't understand the concept of making people comfortable. "You didn't see me when you came in, did you? Everything will be just fine..."
After a moment, she then departed from Abigail's side and swiftly floated over towards Lucy. It was no secret that the creature was trying to examine the small, shrouded thing up close. Her legs lowered, and her body coiled like a snake, seeking to make direct eye contact.
"...You wouldn't... have another reason to dislike me, now, would would you?..."
Lucy shrank back into her chair even further. Her cane, which she'd been holding up with the palm of one hand, fell to the floor with a clatter. Beneath the hood Mishka could see a face that was pale and attractive, if quite thin and overly pronounced, with two blue eyes situated under long dark eyelash. Luminescent blue eyes: they glowed with an interior light, and the iris had a shifting and swirling pattern.
This time, Lucy's voice echoed. There were three or four copies of her voice shouting: "Get away from me! Stay away! Stay away..."
It was obvious to Miska that the movements of Lucy's mouth were a little ahead of her apparent voices' emergence.
You forgot your F in Modesty.
Mishka looked a little surprised at first, but then veiled her emotions over with an expression of quiet haughtiness. The creature did not approach any closer, and found itself just basking in Lucy's abject horror instead. You could see it in her posture; Scaring a human was piecemeal, but scaring something ab-human was worth bonus points.
"...I see... So, you're not quite so pleased with yourself, either..." The tone of her voice denoted a simple observation, formidable granite-colored breasts now arced upwards. "What an interesting thing... Your fear flatters me."
Anybody who knew anything about Drow knew that they tended to put fear and respect in one basket. But this monster, likely considered a freak by her own people... Lapped it up like sweet nectar all the more.
Lucia gave Mishka a look of disgust. The lady of the manor was clearly a deranged psychopath, who in there right mind would let a Drider live with them, especially as a lover.
"Miss Abigail, how can you stand to live around such grotesque monsters? Even if they are a little more docile than usual they still look hideous."
She looked like the real deal as far a vampire slayers went, was armed with a load of silver daggers, a mace and wore a mithril breastplate, which was shaped around a huge tattoo of a pelorian sun on her back. under the armour was a practical black dress, made for mobility it seemed.
"They are neither grotesque nor monsters, Ms. Lucia, and I am saddened to see that you take a such a backwards view on things that you cannot appreciate even the amount of artistry and craft that goes into their creation. What I do is as much an art as it is progress. I admit that all my work is not quite as visually appealing as that which I did for my beloved, but sadly we all cannot be gorgeous young women." She gave a little laugh and smiled lovingly towards the Drider.
"If those golems are anything like the one's I've seen, they are probably the artistic equivalent of a childs scribbles. Now if you could remove the spider half of your Drider and attach some actual legs, that aren't grossly mismatched I may see it as a little more than disgusting. although that wouldn't change the fact Drow are terrible and cruel creatures."
Abigail gave Lucia a Look.
The Look said 'STFU bitch'
"Ms. Lucia I strongly suggest you remember your manners lest I forget mine. And while I would not dare to deny the cruelty or degeneracy of the Drow culture I assure you that my beloved is reformed. And I would agree with you that she deserves punishment for the sins she has committed in the past, but neither she, nor anyone deserves to be punished in the obscene manner in which she was punished. Finally, Ms. Lucia, you would fancy yourself a defender of Humanity and yet your lack of compassion, empathy, or mercy strongly suggest to me that you probably ought to re-familiarize yourself with it."
Mishka started to giggle after the first salvo of insults, slowly building it into a cacophony of shrill, uncontainable laughter that reverberated around the gothic stone walls.
"You humans and your arguments..." It took until Abigail spoke once more for the Drider to regain her composure. "Throwing insults and rubbing each another's faces into your worst failings... Never once thinking about how much more effective things would be if you just went ahead and fixed the situation you had such a problem with."
"Abigail, my beloved creature... She fixes death, you understand? Nothing can be more startling in it's beauty, save for the soft, warm hands she uses to complete such task." Mishkala once again gave her a warm expression, before leaning towards Lucia and laying a clawed arm on the table. "Either way, my dear hunter, would you be the one to advocate digging up and desecrating the grave of some poor young woman? I find myself grateful for macabre parts my mistress has given me, considering the alternative. Considering the damage that has already been done-..."
Her voice seemed to curve and fail on the last word, betraying a small amount of uneasiness about the mutation herself. It's not like one could even choose to become a Drider if they wanted to; Perhaps her confidence was the only thing refusing to let her to admit that?
Again, a sombre, hopeful smile cropped back up, seeking to brush all the ill omens under the carpet.
Last edited by Regantor; 11-07-2011 at 04:24 PM.
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