"Waiting for you," she began, still almost-pleasant. "And I know you're lying, which I'm sure you're also able to deduce."
Her fingers traced the arm of the chair she was in, running the length of the smooth velvet-upholstered curve. Octavia lowered her eyes, as if appearing meek, her eyes meeting the fringe of the dark, patterned rug beneath his feet, imagining the feel of the soft fibres beneath tired soles. Everything in excess, in this place. Everything in luxury. This was nearly a living embodiment of a house of sin, and she found it terribly ironic that it was at this moment in time she was the pinnacle of purity under its roof.
"I don't enjoy being made a fool of, Rabastan, and I enjoy it even less when it is done blatantly and under my own nose." Octavia's eyes followed along the twisting, curving lines in the rug, to her master's feet, following up his person until her gaze should fall upon his visage, eyes maliciously alight and meeting her own, the cocky challenge evident as they locked.
"Am I foolish woman? Absolutely not, and regardless of whatever you say or think, that will never be the case. The biggest favor you could possibly do me is underestimating exactly what it is I am capable of."
No, Octavia wasn't a pinnacle of purity, far from it. With her proud posture and wrathful eyes, this was more the place she belonged than ever. She leaned forward, expression coldly blank, enunciating every syllable. "Tell me again why you were out."
(Read comments)
Post a comment in response:
scribbld is part of the horse.13 network
Design by Jimmy B.
Logo created by 
hitsuzen.
Scribbld System Status
