charlie
Charlie meets Kai’s glance with a dazzling, heart-forward nod that seems to gather every flicker of firelight in the room and pour it into her expression. Her smile becomes something luminous and encouraging, soft at the edges but bright enough to burn away hesitation. The moment his skin breaks and the first line of red blooms across his palm, she inhales gently; an indulgent little hum slipping from her lips as if the scent itself were a ribbon she could wrap around her fingers.
She drifts toward the obsidian like she’s being pulled by gravity she has personally seduced. The glossy, pristine side reflects her in fragmented ribbons of red-slashed silk and molten curls, but she ignores that half entirely, lowering herself to her knees without hesitation in front of the jagged, ruinous side. The ground is rough beneath her skin, scraping lightly as her dress pools around her, already stained and ready for more.
Without ceremony, she plucks a ritual dagger from the offering tray—its blade obsidian-dark and wicked in the firelight—and draws it across her forearm in one swift, confident motion. The cut is deep, deeper than Kai’s, deliberate in a way that sends a shiver of heat rolling through the air around her. Blood wells instantly, dark and rich, sliding down to her wrist and collecting in her palm before dripping steadily to the floor.
With a delighted little breath, Charlie flicks her blood upward in chaotic arcs—; no pattern, no plan, each movement a celebratory offering to disorder itself. Droplets scatter across both the jagged stone and her already-stained thighs, blooming in irregular constellations. To anyone else it might look reckless or wild; to Charlie, it is reverence.
"Kaisel was at the Blood Moon Festival," she announces brightly to the shrine, voice carrying in a warm ribbon through the ruby-lit air. Her eyes sparkle as she glances back at Kai, mischief flaming like a spark caught in silk. "And I’ve been showing him all the things Ancients can do." She flashes him a fanged grin—sharp, approving, delighted—and her eyebrows lift in an expression that says look at you, being so brave and shiny. Then she tucks her blood-soaked hand into her lap, completely unbothered by the way the thick red streaks seep into the white satin of her dress and smudge across her knees.
Her posture is devotional, messy, and radiant all at once—an offering in her own right—while she waits silently for Dygra's arrival.
I don't think as a SC Charlie can add to Kai's roll, but if he doesn't roll high enough, I'll pay MP for a reply!
She drifts toward the obsidian like she’s being pulled by gravity she has personally seduced. The glossy, pristine side reflects her in fragmented ribbons of red-slashed silk and molten curls, but she ignores that half entirely, lowering herself to her knees without hesitation in front of the jagged, ruinous side. The ground is rough beneath her skin, scraping lightly as her dress pools around her, already stained and ready for more.
Without ceremony, she plucks a ritual dagger from the offering tray—its blade obsidian-dark and wicked in the firelight—and draws it across her forearm in one swift, confident motion. The cut is deep, deeper than Kai’s, deliberate in a way that sends a shiver of heat rolling through the air around her. Blood wells instantly, dark and rich, sliding down to her wrist and collecting in her palm before dripping steadily to the floor.
With a delighted little breath, Charlie flicks her blood upward in chaotic arcs—; no pattern, no plan, each movement a celebratory offering to disorder itself. Droplets scatter across both the jagged stone and her already-stained thighs, blooming in irregular constellations. To anyone else it might look reckless or wild; to Charlie, it is reverence.
"Kaisel was at the Blood Moon Festival," she announces brightly to the shrine, voice carrying in a warm ribbon through the ruby-lit air. Her eyes sparkle as she glances back at Kai, mischief flaming like a spark caught in silk. "And I’ve been showing him all the things Ancients can do." She flashes him a fanged grin—sharp, approving, delighted—and her eyebrows lift in an expression that says look at you, being so brave and shiny. Then she tucks her blood-soaked hand into her lap, completely unbothered by the way the thick red streaks seep into the white satin of her dress and smudge across her knees.
Her posture is devotional, messy, and radiant all at once—an offering in her own right—while she waits silently for Dygra's arrival.
I don't think as a SC Charlie can add to Kai's roll, but if he doesn't roll high enough, I'll pay MP for a reply!
they say i did something bad
then why'd it feel so good?
then why'd it feel so good?
Hella golden retriever energy. Small unrefined horns made of ruby. Regular spade-shaped tail.
