Thread: Halloween on a Haunted Hill [Lady Grimoire x Acitar]

Occasionally, the woman's yellow eyes glazed over, going out of focus as someone lost in thought. In truth, it was her taking on the guise of a projection elsewhere in the building, maintaining her corporeal form at the bar. Idly, she ran her fingernails across her lips as she observed, pondering the nature of the gathering as she explored the sensation her fingernail wrought. The need for physical contact these people had, and what sensations they gained from it. Was it all a matter of worshiping monsters and procreation, or was there something more to be gained? Perhaps the only way to know for sure would be to partake, rather than just do what she had come to do. Someone was staring. That sense pulled her back to the room with the long bar. Her head turned toward Miles' direction as the other's eyes turned back to his drink, though she couldn't physically see that due to the hood. He had been staring at her., but for what reason? An invisible tendril--her mind--reached out toward him, likely unknownst to the male, to probe for those answers, but she stopped just short as she noticed his situation. He was sat in the corner, out of the way, and seemingly on his own. She replayed the last several moments in her mind, recalling that he had been there for some time now, and in the same state. All on his own, vulnerable. It would be so easy. Uncrossing her legs, she rolled up onto those strappy black heels. Quietly, with long strides, she moved through the room, flashes of leg here and there with every forward step. She had heard the words fun, and boring, tossed around many times. It would be so easy to simply do as she was want to do, but it might be more... fun, to maintain the facade, to go along with the nature of this party. This would all be but the blink of an eye later on, what would but a moment of indulgence cost her? Nothing, nothing at all. The first interactions between these people varied so heavily. She paused when she stepped up to him, just close enough that beyond the glass in his hands he could see the tops of her feet, the bottom of her skirt, and just barely, the straps of her footwear winding up one revealed, scale-painted leg. She had considered just how to make her presence know along the way, how to make her first impression. Maintaining her silence, she reached down to grab the edge of his glass with two long fingers and tug upward, to relieve him of his drink. Whether he relinquished it easily of surprise, or whether he held firm, in the end she would take it. The glass would find its way to her lips, and she'd lean her head back some as she tasted if it held any difference than what she had tried at the bar. Marginally. Her tongue ran across the rim of the glass, and then, across her own lips as she lowered the drink back down to within his reach, to take back if he wished. Where was there ha... she started, her first words jumbled by nature of it being her first time speaking using a tongue and lips. A brief pause followed as she adjusted, and folded her understanding of the language together a little more firmly. Why do you drink this where there are more delectable tastes to partake in? Whether she referred to women, or better spirits, she did not clarify. Those yellow serpentine eyes of hers stared down at him, and once the glass had gone from her grasp--be it him taking it, or her setting it aside--she moved both of her hands to rest on the shear white fabric barely covering her greenish-yellow scaled hips. In some ways, it was a costume. In most respects, it wasn't. Up close, her skin both looked, and, if touched, felt how one might expect touching a serpent might feel over the painted skin of a person. Her eyes were her own, her yellow nails, as sharp as claws. The attire she wore was the only thing of her appearance which wasn't directly part of her. You were staring at me across the room. You can explain that, or I can make my assumptions and react accordingly off of those, she followed, her tone direct, and firm. Not angry, nor at all irritated, but certainly what one could call 'no bullshit.' It would be for the best if you did not wait for that outcome, and if you need a moment to think. Pausing briefly, she tilted her head lightly to the side toward the glass of vodka she had been drinking, which now sat alone at the bar next to an empty seat. You may retrieve that. She stood with enough space back for him to stand, not being right on top of him, though she'd also step back if he needed the additional room.