Who: Lust (redhots), mentions of Zepar (lovemetender) and Sloth (torpor) When: Sometime over the past weekend Where: Hell What: Someone isn't a happy camper
To put it lightly, Lust was not having a good time.
Safely burrowed away from the fray by her gracious host, the Sin fumed over yet another hand of cards before choosing to lay two down. The delightful prospect of dragging her younger sister out, dressing her up and making her accompany her had outweighed the poor choice of venue, but the pleasant time had not been what Lust had expected at all when the masque had taken a sharp turn south with the poor excuse for entertainment.
As it was, Lust was still furious for the blood splatter that ruined her suit, the rips and tears in her shirt and slacks before she had been evacuated from the mess, the blood and gore left on her shoes from mowing down any unfortunate minions caught in her wake. That she found herself trapped down within the Pit surely hadn't helped to lessen her ire, bad having gone to so much worse within the blink of an eye. No exits open, no path available to find her way home.
"Patience, pretty."
The words echoed in her ears far louder than the screeching cries of those weaker unfortunates, though it had been hard enough not to reach out for whatever was available to lop off the prettily smirking head. Bad manners, that. Even worse when it was the host. Definitely the fastest method of being struck from any future gatherings.
At least she comforted herself with one small bit of payback. As soon as she was able to return topside, Zepar was going to find himself the recipient of one hell of a dry cleaning bill. That, at least, was enough to curl the Sin's lips just a teensy bit as she lost yet another hand to the Duke.