they say I did something bad, so why's it feel so good?
Charlie’s mouth curves into something half proud, half wicked as Aithne eyes her sideways. "Mm, you could say that," she hums, drawing to a gentle stop beside the younger Ancient, the crimson silk of her gown pooling like spilled wine around her heels. Her gaze sweeps the tall, prism-shot crystal Aithne’s paused to admire, and in its flickering reflections, the priestess lets the past slip off her tongue like the edge of a purr.
"Before I was frozen—ugh, by some bitter little Abandoned farmer with a grudge—I was one of Dygra’s high priestesses." Her tail flicks once, lazily, like a cat recounting how it used to rule a kingdom. "This was back in the early days. Real early. When all of us lived up here in the Climb, close together. Back when you could run into Dygra herself in the corridor outside your cave and she'd offer you a fig or a dare depending on her mood."
There’s a flicker of nostalgia in Charlie’s expression—warm and glittering, but edged in mischief. "My job was...well, sort of everything. I hosted ceremonies to guide people through their bloodlust, blessed new bonds, helped with the creation of traditions. Sometimes that meant tending to grief. Other times it meant throwing an orgy under the stars." She shrugs delicately, her ruby horns catching the firelight like melted garnet. "Mostly, it was about keeping everyone in tune with themselves. With each other. With Dygra."
A soft chuckle rises from her throat, and she casts Aithne a sidelong glance, eyes gleaming. "Being happy, feeling pleasure, releasing chaos into the world was all I was really concerned about. Still is, really." She steps in closer, warmth radiating like a hearthfire.
"Before I was frozen—ugh, by some bitter little Abandoned farmer with a grudge—I was one of Dygra’s high priestesses." Her tail flicks once, lazily, like a cat recounting how it used to rule a kingdom. "This was back in the early days. Real early. When all of us lived up here in the Climb, close together. Back when you could run into Dygra herself in the corridor outside your cave and she'd offer you a fig or a dare depending on her mood."
There’s a flicker of nostalgia in Charlie’s expression—warm and glittering, but edged in mischief. "My job was...well, sort of everything. I hosted ceremonies to guide people through their bloodlust, blessed new bonds, helped with the creation of traditions. Sometimes that meant tending to grief. Other times it meant throwing an orgy under the stars." She shrugs delicately, her ruby horns catching the firelight like melted garnet. "Mostly, it was about keeping everyone in tune with themselves. With each other. With Dygra."
A soft chuckle rises from her throat, and she casts Aithne a sidelong glance, eyes gleaming. "Being happy, feeling pleasure, releasing chaos into the world was all I was really concerned about. Still is, really." She steps in closer, warmth radiating like a hearthfire.
Hella golden retriever energy. Small unrefined horns made of ruby. Regular spade-shaped tail.
