Adore me, Hold me and explore me
The Temple hums with Charlie's touch; incense smoke curling like lazy serpents from the offerings she’d just lit, wax pooling in rivulets down half-spent candles, the faint copper tang of blood already sweet in the air. She’s in the middle of arranging a little altar tableau that promises far more scandal than sanctity when the sound of his voice pours through the stone and flame like music meant only for her.
Her smile unfurls as easily as a silk slip sliding from bare shoulders, and in a moment the altar is forgotten. Charlie always dresses for an audience, even if she’s her own, and today is no exception: a black dress that clings like sin, heels that click sharp against the stone, blonde hair spilling in a deliciously unruly mess around her shoulders. She doesn’t walk so much as strut, tail swaying behind her with every step, and when the flickering oil lamps give her that golden glow, she drinks it up like applause.
But why bother with doors and sidesteps when she has so much more flair at her disposal? A quick dart! and she’s suddenly there, perched on the edge of the cold stone slab with a wicked grin, eye-level with the butcher now and utterly unconcerned about intruding on his neat little arrangement. He'd called for her, after all.
Charlie's blue gaze falls on the spread of gleaming blades and the lace of strange, living tissue, and her gasp is pure theatre, one hand flying to her chest as if her heart might just burst with scandalized delight. "Oooh, are we going hunting?" she purrs, lashes batting, the words dripping with mock innocence even as her grin gives her away.
Her smile unfurls as easily as a silk slip sliding from bare shoulders, and in a moment the altar is forgotten. Charlie always dresses for an audience, even if she’s her own, and today is no exception: a black dress that clings like sin, heels that click sharp against the stone, blonde hair spilling in a deliciously unruly mess around her shoulders. She doesn’t walk so much as strut, tail swaying behind her with every step, and when the flickering oil lamps give her that golden glow, she drinks it up like applause.
But why bother with doors and sidesteps when she has so much more flair at her disposal? A quick dart! and she’s suddenly there, perched on the edge of the cold stone slab with a wicked grin, eye-level with the butcher now and utterly unconcerned about intruding on his neat little arrangement. He'd called for her, after all.
Charlie's blue gaze falls on the spread of gleaming blades and the lace of strange, living tissue, and her gasp is pure theatre, one hand flying to her chest as if her heart might just burst with scandalized delight. "Oooh, are we going hunting?" she purrs, lashes batting, the words dripping with mock innocence even as her grin gives her away.
Mark your territory, Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one
Hella golden retriever energy. Small unrefined horns made of ruby. Regular spade-shaped tail.
