The way Dahlia watches Dorian prowl forward is absolutely all predator, though it's by no means considered a challenge; no, it's more an invitation. Tantalisingly close, enough for her to lean into the never-quite-touch of his fingers as he brushes her hair back, the Reaper is like a flower bending towards the sunlight, though by now she's more than used to the steel that often follows such sweetness, and prepares accordingly.
Ah. Flora.
"She does seem to be making quite a nuisance of herself, does she not?" she agrees, any pleasure in her tone draining away to leave nothing but thorns and vengeance. "Perhaps Pierce will be busier than he expected in the coming weeks," she agrees. Of course Dahlia isn't adverse to getting her own hands dirty - far from it, in fact - but she'd rather leave open conflict with Stormbreak for later down the line.
"I will speak with him. Leave it to me."
Ah. Flora.
"She does seem to be making quite a nuisance of herself, does she not?" she agrees, any pleasure in her tone draining away to leave nothing but thorns and vengeance. "Perhaps Pierce will be busier than he expected in the coming weeks," she agrees. Of course Dahlia isn't adverse to getting her own hands dirty - far from it, in fact - but she'd rather leave open conflict with Stormbreak for later down the line.
"I will speak with him. Leave it to me."
let me put my lips to something
let me wrap my teeth around the world
let me wrap my teeth around the world
