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Vaughn Davis (shebringscurses) wrote in bellumlogs,

It was almost completely indiscernible as to where the witch's attention went from beneath the shadows of the cloak. A brief incline of the head might have offered a clue, but even those were minimal at best.

The Beast had her eyes initially. Such a conflict; the indifference of the witch met alongside the razorous, jealous edge of Vaughn. A Beast could stir nothing in her, so where was this turmoil coming from? "Careful, pet. I suggest you keep your temper, and your claws in.. after all, I gave them to you." And what kind of courtesy would it be to snarl at a hostess?

As for the young beauty, she'd remained ignored for the most part. That is, until the woman took it upon herself to scurry from the plush state of her concubine cushions and practically rival with a voice gone throaty from dreams.

The witch tilted her head, and drew back her cloak's cowl in a movement that was slow, although the effect was that of a flourish. Like bones rubbing themselves into pure satin. Where she'd seemed withered and cowering, she was suddenly staunch and beautiful.

"Nothing of you, maiden, worry not."