Post by Cheshire on Sept 5, 2015 13:21:41 GMT -5
He was loud. She grasped that much. Loud and bold.
She had been waiting for the other Arrancar- no, not just any Arrancar, an Espada- to leave this entire time. What number were they? Cheshire found herself momentarily frustrated, eyes locked on the one figure leaving another standing within the castle. She had to be a good... fifty? meters away herself, down a long, dark hallway. She couldn't make out exactly who the Espada was, just taste the power coming from them. It was familiar in a way Cheshire needed it to be. Good. Keeping her distance had been the best idea, then.
If there was one thing she did not dabble in, it would be the affairs of Las Noches' higher-ups.
They weren't the point here anyways. She had been watching for what felt like hours for one reason only. It was her gaze that centered on the remaining Arrancar. Her Reiatsu found itself pulled tightly around her; against her flesh and her attire, holding it so tightly she mused that she might suffocate herself. She didn't want to risk drawing the Espada's attention back to her. No, she'd do this neatly.
Hello, this is Las Noches' Welcome Committee.
Today you'll be introduced to everything we have to offer by the absolutely splendid Queen-to-be Cheshire! She's dressed in heeled boots that round nicely against her knees and gloves that do the same for her elbows but leave her fingers bare to show off neatly manicured claws. A skirt gently presses itself down the halfway point of her thighs and her shirt, a simple as can be tank top, does nothing to cover more than her chest. What lies beneath any of this, draga cititor, is up to your imagination!
And the imagination of the blue-haired male she was nearing, having slowly stepped herself down that hall when she judged the coast clear. Contrary to popular belief it was not often new Arrancar arrived at the castle, and often less that they were accompanied by someone of power. She had come here alone, after all, all those years ago, to be greeted by a man that rarely crossed her thoughts any longer.
Ah, Merlot, how good you felt against my lips.
Especially your heart.
He smelled nice, she noted, if not like sweat. Perhaps she found herself enjoying that regardless. He was cute, a thought she lingered on. Her eyes raked up and down his form, drinking him in. Chiseled, strong. Exposed. She allowed her tongue to trace over her lips before she stepped into the room.
The picture of amiability. The picture of greeting. Her hands raised on either side of her, a show of her lack of ill will, palms opened and a grin splitting her face. Mischief gleamed both in that smile and the dancing lights of her eyes. Her hair covered most of her cheeks and the rest of her skull, raggedy and black.
"Salut, preiten nou.
It is an absolute pleasure to meet you! Welcome to our," mine, she sighed inwardly, "Las Noches. I am Cheshire!" She giggled.
"What, pray tell, may I call you?" The playful saccharine of her words dripped from her red lips like blood. She threw in a bat of her eyelashes, swaying on one foot. Just another game. Another ploy. She'd find out what made this toy tick and she'd decide what use he'd be to her from there.
Ah, at least he looked nice. This wouldn't be a loss either way.
It was fake. The friendliness, the flirting. It was nothing but contrived plastic wrapping for a lecherous deviant hiding true motives. Real conversation played like a tape in her head while she spoke.
'Hello. Welcome to my castle. I am your Queen.
How can you serve me today?'
630/12/12
