Charlie
You know I talk too much
honey, come put your lips on mine & shut me up
honey, come put your lips on mine & shut me up
Charlie’s laugh spills bright and shameless down the ruby-lit corridor, her heels clicking like punctuation marks against the stone as she glides beside him. "Pfft, of course I kept going!" she laughs, brows arching skyward as if he has asked the most naïve question in the world. Her grin stretches slow and wicked, fangs just barely threatening to show. "I don't have all day!" Her tail flicks behind her in a playful snap. "Besides, the paint was starting to dry."
She sweeps into the shrine space like a black flame, the tight dress clinging in all the right places, blonde curls spilling wild and luxurious around her shoulders, heels sharp enough to double as weapons if she ever got bored. The iron-scented air seems to adore her immediately. When he tosses the jar and the plushie her way, she catches them with exaggerated delight, cradling the lava worm against her chest with theatrical affection before peering at the supplements. "I wish you could have seen your own face," she purrs, bouncing her brows at him, the fanged smile that follows equal parts adoring and mischievous.
She sets the gifts carefully near the obsidian slab, because Charlie knows better than to clutter Dygra’s space with irreverence. Then, without hesitation, she drags her finger against the sharpened side of the shrine where crimson wells instantly, bright and glossy against her pale skin. She steps forward, drawing a line that's at first entirely straight and deliberate, the red cutting across the polished stone. Then her wrist loosens and the line fractures and branches. It splits into erratic veins and sharp deviations, jagged chaos creeping outward as though entropy itself is stretching awake beneath her touch. The pattern degrades into violent, beautiful disarray, controlled ruin. Intentional decay.
Her tail sways slowly behind her as she watches it bloom. Only when she’s satisfied does she step back, pressing her bleeding finger to her tongue, eyes glinting as she tips Kaisel a slow, knowing wink.
She sweeps into the shrine space like a black flame, the tight dress clinging in all the right places, blonde curls spilling wild and luxurious around her shoulders, heels sharp enough to double as weapons if she ever got bored. The iron-scented air seems to adore her immediately. When he tosses the jar and the plushie her way, she catches them with exaggerated delight, cradling the lava worm against her chest with theatrical affection before peering at the supplements. "I wish you could have seen your own face," she purrs, bouncing her brows at him, the fanged smile that follows equal parts adoring and mischievous.
She sets the gifts carefully near the obsidian slab, because Charlie knows better than to clutter Dygra’s space with irreverence. Then, without hesitation, she drags her finger against the sharpened side of the shrine where crimson wells instantly, bright and glossy against her pale skin. She steps forward, drawing a line that's at first entirely straight and deliberate, the red cutting across the polished stone. Then her wrist loosens and the line fractures and branches. It splits into erratic veins and sharp deviations, jagged chaos creeping outward as though entropy itself is stretching awake beneath her touch. The pattern degrades into violent, beautiful disarray, controlled ruin. Intentional decay.
Her tail sways slowly behind her as she watches it bloom. Only when she’s satisfied does she step back, pressing her bleeding finger to her tongue, eyes glinting as she tips Kaisel a slow, knowing wink.
Hella golden retriever energy. Small unrefined horns made of ruby. Regular spade-shaped tail.
