04-04-2020, 10:28 PM
A slender tendril of power lifted the wine glass from its perch on the tray, and though she idled the stem between her fingers she did not drink. Ori was not usually given to such mediocre displays of her gift, and nor was she much impressed by them in others. This was frivolity with the purpose of annoyance, meant only to differentiate from the rather mundane company. Beyond the tantalising promise of a devil caged by such a thin veil of skin, Ryker was dull. He bit only to retreat no matter how she bared her fucking throat. Shamelessly afraid of a little light-natured fun.
She watched his clenched fist. Watched that internal ire douse as Yun’s messenger leaned to whisper in her ear. The power coursing Ori’s veins might have gifted her the ability to listen in; it certainly sharpened her hearing, even basked inert like light in cupped hands. But she made no effort to pry.
Instead she lounged back in her chair, a perfectly feral smile plucking the corners of her lips. If something so plainly pleased his vile nature, she doubted it boded well for Yun, and in part she was content to let that unfold. No loyalty charmed her to a side. “You speak of pleasure and yet rush so quickly to business. Hardly the way to please your woman, Ryker.” She tsk’d, laughing slyly. Not for condemnation of his prowess. Her eyes flickered to the woman in question.
He wanted something from Yun, or from the Syndicate, and wider machinations rumbled quietly in the periphery, closing like a vise. At the bar that night the Spider had barely given Ori so much as a cursory look, let alone offered any intimation of a friendship that explained Oriena’s presence now. That he either dismissed the absurdity, or simply did not think of it, irritated her. He didn’t care why she was here. He certainly didn’t think her capable of interference.
Not something that would ordinarily have bothered her; but then she was not entirely herself, these days.
She didn’t much think about the sharp razor of threads as they unleashed in retaliation; a delicate web, fine and complex, sinking as savage as teeth into his skull. A painless affliction. Let him see how he enjoyed the strings of a puppet.
She watched his clenched fist. Watched that internal ire douse as Yun’s messenger leaned to whisper in her ear. The power coursing Ori’s veins might have gifted her the ability to listen in; it certainly sharpened her hearing, even basked inert like light in cupped hands. But she made no effort to pry.
Instead she lounged back in her chair, a perfectly feral smile plucking the corners of her lips. If something so plainly pleased his vile nature, she doubted it boded well for Yun, and in part she was content to let that unfold. No loyalty charmed her to a side. “You speak of pleasure and yet rush so quickly to business. Hardly the way to please your woman, Ryker.” She tsk’d, laughing slyly. Not for condemnation of his prowess. Her eyes flickered to the woman in question.
He wanted something from Yun, or from the Syndicate, and wider machinations rumbled quietly in the periphery, closing like a vise. At the bar that night the Spider had barely given Ori so much as a cursory look, let alone offered any intimation of a friendship that explained Oriena’s presence now. That he either dismissed the absurdity, or simply did not think of it, irritated her. He didn’t care why she was here. He certainly didn’t think her capable of interference.
Not something that would ordinarily have bothered her; but then she was not entirely herself, these days.
She didn’t much think about the sharp razor of threads as they unleashed in retaliation; a delicate web, fine and complex, sinking as savage as teeth into his skull. A painless affliction. Let him see how he enjoyed the strings of a puppet.
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