Maeve
You must have seen her
dancing in the sand
dancing in the sand
If Maeve was able to send her own emotions along the bond to Gwyneverre, she would have let the dragon know that she didn't give a flying fuck about what she thought of her presence here. No, she was not a dragoon nor did she have a dragon, but she was not weak. The Madame had endured more in her short life than either of them likely realized and that life did not make for a weak girl.
Little she might be, but she was not meek like a mouse that Abraham seemed to equate her to. Maeve had teeth and claws and venom that she was not afraid to use. Especially against self centered, entitled, and presumptuous men. Men like him. He didn't bother to hide the way he let mismatched eyes roam over her body leisurely, drinking in pale skin, long limbs, and toned muscle hidden beneath soft curves. That only made her dislike him more. Her nostrils flared as she drew in a breath, chest heaving slightly from her previous efforts as her heartrate started to race for an entirely different reason.
Indignant rage bubbled up hotly in her belly, mixing with the venomous words that seemed to gather on the tip of her tongue at his comment. Street performers? The chuckle only served to cause her hackles to raise further and if the Madame had been Attuned then she likely would have bared her teeth at him. Hell, she might still bare her teeth. Motherfucker. "Given that I have yet to see a street performer able to do what I do, I'd argue you know fuck all." Maeve snapped, words sharp as she lashed out at him with her tongue, narrowing her eyes as she took a step forward. Clearly she wasn't deterred by the sheer size of him. It didn't matter to her that he was a foot taller than her. That he could likely toss her to the side like it was nothing.
She was pissed.
"Not even you could do what I do." She hissed, jabbing her finger into his chest and not flinching when she was met by a solid wall of muscle. Maeve left barely a few inches of space between them, chest heaving as she lifted her chin defiantly to hold his mismatched gaze, fire dancing in her own green irises.
Little she might be, but she was not meek like a mouse that Abraham seemed to equate her to. Maeve had teeth and claws and venom that she was not afraid to use. Especially against self centered, entitled, and presumptuous men. Men like him. He didn't bother to hide the way he let mismatched eyes roam over her body leisurely, drinking in pale skin, long limbs, and toned muscle hidden beneath soft curves. That only made her dislike him more. Her nostrils flared as she drew in a breath, chest heaving slightly from her previous efforts as her heartrate started to race for an entirely different reason.
Indignant rage bubbled up hotly in her belly, mixing with the venomous words that seemed to gather on the tip of her tongue at his comment. Street performers? The chuckle only served to cause her hackles to raise further and if the Madame had been Attuned then she likely would have bared her teeth at him. Hell, she might still bare her teeth. Motherfucker. "Given that I have yet to see a street performer able to do what I do, I'd argue you know fuck all." Maeve snapped, words sharp as she lashed out at him with her tongue, narrowing her eyes as she took a step forward. Clearly she wasn't deterred by the sheer size of him. It didn't matter to her that he was a foot taller than her. That he could likely toss her to the side like it was nothing.
She was pissed.
"Not even you could do what I do." She hissed, jabbing her finger into his chest and not flinching when she was met by a solid wall of muscle. Maeve left barely a few inches of space between them, chest heaving as she lifted her chin defiantly to hold his mismatched gaze, fire dancing in her own green irises.
And now she’s in me always with me
Tiny dancer in my hand
Tiny dancer in my hand
Code stolen from and fixed by Sky!
