Icon of Coil: cotton candy [bianca]

cotton candy [bianca]

[atlantic city boardwalk]

::He stayed with her. After her performance with Malcom and Missy she was rewarded, and the flush of pride (delight, desire) is still dancing under her skin (burn, baby burn) as she moves along the boardwalk, hands tucked in the pockets of her jeans, stringy blond hair hanging over her back till touching the tightightight leather corset that hugs skinny frame::

fingers twirl to pull (rend) pink strings from where they cling at the stick, sugar melting across the Galliard's (silvered) tongue, boots waging war against the railing far above the sand gathering on the beach below

the spears sing below

sounds washing across warm skin (bathing in the destruction) mismatched eyes falling half closed in sensory ecstacy (in order to be reborn.......) ignorant to the band's hailing phrases far down the beach (......... one must be destroyed)

::Music gets no more then a curious glance, as she has other matters in mind. She has been searching (...a gift...) since the pleasure in his gaze of Kaj'sha's, but has yet to find something suitable for (her deity) him, so she will search again. Progress halts, however, when he (silvertonued god) is seen, and smile tugs at her lips (...how can I please you this night?) and direction changes to move toward him::

cast a deadly spell

delight forms in those strange blue eyes (day and night) at the cotton-candy spinning a web between licked fingers (indulgence, heroin to the addict) ocean's breeze playing with the open tails of the light button-up shirt (what could have caused such scars on chest and lean belly) jeans touched with sand from his earlier stroll (......hunt)

::oh to be such (sin) indulgence. She watches the cleansing of fingers (...dirty them again...) with a smile, before taking the final steps that brings her within (..striking distance..) reach. Her voice - soft, so as not to disturb, though she knows she rests in his favor (...for now...)::
"Evening Asher.."

favor can change with the ease of a flipping coin (heads, tails - which one are you?) and the silence between them spans (the distance within) a finger cleansed by wrap of long (talented) tongue - blond brow lifting in its appraisal of her with those uneven (unnatural) eyes

"Sit."

the invitation of madness
pink tinged finger leaning towards the empty length of bench beside him

::She knows, how well she knows. She waits, patient, for his word, and when the command comes, she complies instantly, sliding to sit on the bench where directed, tempted to steal taste of pinktinged finger.::

spun sugar is carefully plucked from the stick, coil wrapped half the length of index finger

before he stops (how well I know your temptation) considering her

"Tell me what has filled your evening."

even white teeth (how deceptive they are) clip a small piece from the treat that may (or may not) be offered

::She watches the coil of sweet treat along (sweeter sin) finger, khol-blackened gaze seeking mismatched, a flash of smile (..writhe of breast..) as shoulders lift while lungs fill (..scents of destruction..)::
"I have eaten, and watched those I pass, listened to see if there be rumors for you ears. It is oddly quiet tonight, but I sense that will change. I paid a visit to Malcom's - to see how Missy is holding up after our conversation, but they were not there. I came here to listen to the spears, and comb their wake for any offerings for the servants of the Father." : a smile, gaze drops to teeth, to treat, but return, always to mismatched gaze (..my sun and moon..)::

long arm uncurls (slow, creeping, death) fuzzy pink finger/treat offered in reward for her diligence

"Oh? How will it change?""

idle curiosity tilting his jaw

::Eyes shine with simple offer (..heaven in smallest reward..) and she so gently wraps tongue(..snakes coil..) over spun sugar treat, moist caress as she pulls back while sugar melts across tongue, brow furrows as she consideres the question::
"there is an expectancy in the air. it is hard to explain (muffled 'can't you feel it? dense aren'tcha') but its there. An uneasiness. The last I felt this, there was an earthquake, and many things shook to the surface in the wake.."

[paused]

Posted by asher at August 16, 2002 12:00 AM