Sharp; through her foot

[[ r o g u e ]]

The stubble stalks. Stood tall and noble. Not bothering to bow to the cries of the demanding wind. The left-over straw brittle and pale in colour. Easily able to pierce the underside of the flesh. To burst through the cartlidge of one's foot. Preventing healing and to cause great damage. The pain would be intense and shrieks would be heard. It would be a good thought the doll had a brain.

Her frame delicate, skinny and short. Her tatted clothing hanging from her corpse like tassles. Like wispy fingers left over after rain. Steadily fraying, and faded in colour. Attractive at one time. Earlier, prehaps in their previous life. Now they aided the dark feel of her mood. The enjoyment and anger enthralld in her emotions. Her dark features, charcoal orbs and pitch brows. Nude lips, soft to the touch of a finger. As it gently brushes the flesh. The craved dial was framed by midnight bangs. Hanging limply in dreaded clumps. Unbrushed and unwashed.

She strolled through the abandoned paddock. Imagining the time humans would of sold the produce for gold. She imagined the machinery they would of used to help the process. Now the stubble looked surreal. Fake. It outlined the countryside and depressed the visitors.

She turned her dial as an image caught her eye. The flash of colour as a small winged creature took flight. Speeding through the air, carving the atmosphere with the small attachment to the shoulder. Startled the wench examined the paddock. Searching for the presence of another.

[locke]

He had spotted her quite some time before, she was wandering in the fields searching for something. At first he had just made himself invisible, he was resting near an old tree when he heard some noise, some different noise, as the noise of the fields and of the land surrounding him were very monotonous and repetitive. At first he had just laid down and waited to see what she was going to do.

He hadn’t thought at first that her presence there could be more that simple casual. He was traveling toward the city, he had been on the road for some day now, and she was the first being he had seen....but, no, it wasn’t that......he had to think a lot before realizing that he knew her....he knew her, and now she was there, in the middle of nowhere, few meters from him.....he had decided to get closer and be quiet, seeing if he could get a better idea of what she was looking for.

And now she was standing, he could see from her face that her mind was far away.
“what the hell is going on here?” he couldn’t end this thought, because while moving to better see her, he had startled a bird that was drinking from a puddle of water.

“Damn” the bird made a shriek and took the flight. He knelt, his eyes were on her when she suddenly turned to look at the exact point where he was hiding.

He hissed to nobody in particular “here she comes”...

[[ r o g u e ]]

The cotton clouds gradually began to drift. Closer and became much darker in colour. Once porcelin, now a charcoal black. A dark grey. Signifing rain. The drops of oisture would fall, slow at first. Then quicken their speed. They would slice the atmosphere, determining to burst upon the sod. To dampen all that they toutched. Within moments the air was re-newed. The quagmere soaked through. Now soft at the touch. The straw stalks damp and russet in colour. Unable to cause injury. The surrounding foliage of the forest and lake's was green. All this happened in mere minutes. A miracle it must seem. ut 'tis just life.

The bird, flew from within the stubble. Not to far away from her position. Recovering from fear she searched the fields. Her cess pools glowing intently and her nares sifting through the many different scents. Once a few seconds passed. The air deathly still. Until a figured dropped to the ground. His clothing heavily visable to the eye.

Certain he was a male. The same race as she. What did he want she wondered. With tentative steps and graceful movement she began to dance over to the male. Her flowing walk quick and not using much energy. As she drew closer to the bodice of the demon she paused. easing all movement. Grinning silently to her self. The corners of her maw intwining to a smile, a real genteman would make the first move.

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[locke]

She was getting closer, a wicked smile on her face, eyes on him...and she was too calm...he didn’t like her being so quiet, not a word, not even a sound. Moving with such a self-confidence and yet so sinuously...she seemed to be enjoining it.

Locke on the other side was feeling a great danger in her movements “She’s getting too close, time to start the dance with her?”. Slowly raising from his knelt position he opened his wings all their span, trying to intimidate her showing their full open dimension.
His eyes were fixed on hers, showing a fierce look.

Looking for some kind of doubt or indecision in the girl, he started to make his wings slowly move back and forth, the soft wind that came was sufficient enough to raise the powder and debriefs around him. Till he knew something more about the girl and her task he didn’t want to take his knife out of his boot.

He hissed to her before asking in a low growl “What are you doing here? Are you trying to follow me?”

[[ r o g u e ]]

The tearing, prodding squall dropped. The nip and chill from the breeze ceased. The roar to the pinicles ended. Deathly. Silence echooed around the meadow. The stalks no longer swayed in the wind. Souonds were magnifyed and the smallest of noise seemed frightening. The twitch of a stem or the stamp of a foot. Her towers focused on hering the vocals of the figure. Standing but mere meters from herself. Still thinking his corpse remains hidden. Foolish boy. Stupid colt. No brains.

As she moved her pistons o take her into contact with his presence he himslf rose. Aprehensive and wareful of her actions. She held the power in this fight. The upperhnd. One flse move and this could change. No fear showed upon her dial. Her thinking box clear, her actions simple and meaningful. This think standing before her could not enter the clain of the hidden if he was afraid. Scared of a wench. A defencless, attractive bitch. He would need to grow confidence. Inpower the arrogance and stupidity possed within all demons.

As his chords flowed from the maw. She listened. Laughing from within. Her orbs sparklinig with mischief. As if in reply she grinned directly at him. Her enamels ivory and hard. She tured her bodice. Flicking the dark tassels hanging around her shoulders. As sh turned she placed her visage towards him.

tsk, tsk, tsk. You foolsish boy. What are you? A man or a wimp.

Her lyrics were threatening in anyway. Simply taunting. Daring him to opprese her. Encouraging him to stand against her. To show his pride. Hopefully he would not allow himself to e beaten by a female. If so he would not be welcome in her domain no more.

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