She was pretty in the kind of way that said she’d run a dagger through your heart and still keep smiling the whole time. —Richelle Mead, Silver Shadows (via mashamorevna)
⟫»—> No matter the simple fact he had even brought her back to the bed, it appeared that sleeping further into the morning was now out of the question. His chest rose with a yawn, but he was careful to control it as tired eyes parted and glanced up at her, nerves bristling along his scalp as she ran her delicate hands through his mane of hair. There was alwaysone condition. A smirk broke the expression of weariness and he placed both hands at the curve of her figure.
❝ Is there? What might that be? ❞
She pressed her arm to the pillow, just above where his head was. “If I’m going to stare at something this delicious,” she murmured as her hand continued to soothe through his hair, “I’m going to want to have a taste or ten.” Leaning in, she pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, then the tip of his nose, then his lips for only half a second. Her snakes nuzzled his jaw and behind his ears.
—{ And the words did appeal to a certain sense of p r i d e. Chin raising a little, a sliver of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. Not so much in regard to the suit, but in the admiration of the vessel as a whole, because Sam was - P E R F E C T - and Lucifer would not garb his most precious, most beloved in the rags of something beneath his station… rightful King of Hell and Prince of Heaven by ‘occupation’… }—
…It’s not everyone who thinks a white suit is appropriate day-wear, though I do think that every day should be an — occasion.
"Everyday people have settled to a boring normative style and I do admire your choices.“ She gestured pointedly at her own attire; a black crochet dress that fell below the knees, a thick red belt and stilettos of the same color, and a dark wig upon her mane of snakes.
"As an artist, I prefer the aesthetics in all aspects of my life, even the company I surround myself with.” She would hope he’d take the hint, for the sake of that chiseled jaw she could not stop eyeing.
❴ Those unacquainted with ❵ magic, especially the height of his own, seemed to all dwell in the same emotional response. Lips twitched, pursed, then fell back into a thin line as they had gone to smirk before stifled. Though, her immediate expression of approval was quite intriguing. She did not continue the ridiculous questioning of his methods, which would be a lie if he said he was not grateful for.
Watching her grip at the mane of locks atop her head, she removed her scalp in a single, bloodless motion so fluid he blinked twice before his mortal mind could piece the image together. Serpents draped over her shoulders, extensions of her being that flicked their forked tongues and stare upon him with beady, black eyes. Brow rose, and head tilted.
❝ Geh. I have heard of your kind, though it was said that the Blades killed the last of them in Akavir. Though, krosis, part of me believes you of another lineage. Nirn has been without the vith-joor for many moons. ❞
Her snakes reacted to the word “vith-joor” with a rattle and a hiss. It seemed to please them more than anything, but there was also the twinging emotion of reverential respect. Though Em did not understand what he meant by it, the idea was relayed through the synapses firing within her snakes.
"Likely distant relatives. My ancestry extends to the Mediterranean region of this world. Mainly lands of which the Olympians took control over.“ Thoughts of her fellow gorgon sisters rushed to her immediate memories and she held no comparison between them and her very fair form. "I wasn't always like this, though."
