[ A man with nothing at all to his name - wearing nothing but his name, and she does not even know that - cannot claim any sort of lucrative profession. If he was any good at what he did, why was he here, nude and unarmed? The same of course might be asked of her, but from her own standpoint, all that has come to pass in this place has been one flagrant treason after another. She has had no choice. It suggests no failings as queen.
He is a different animal, however. And, precisely because he stands before her undisguised and unguarded, she cannot look upon him with the contempt she might have otherwise. He is too pleasing to the eye, too promising in his stature. He looks to her exactly like the sort of man whom the gods send out into the world purely by mistake, for how else would he have come by such powerful musculature? Why else would he have that brazen way about him, that obvious flirtation in his bearing? Or maybe she is only hoping that is what she sees.
His eyes attune only to her own, and because she is aware of this discretion, she slinks in to where he stands, gathering back the lengths of gold that spill across her shoulders. For the purpose, primarily, of baring the curves of her breasts for a moment before she lets her hair fall again. Lingering now within reach, she brushes a hand out to the flat of his chest, as if the touch will help her decide what his profession must have been before he found himself here. Her voice is an almost cheerful lilt, her gaze flickering up to determine whether or not she has succeeded in baiting his eyes back down to her body. ]
Doing what needs to be done. [ Killing people who stand in his way, she dearly wishes, though the smirk ghosting at her lips makes no secret of the innuendo, should he prove to have a taste for it. The bounty of opportunity here makes her eyes dance with a lively, lethal fire. ]
I suspect you are a man of hard steel instead of weak gods. Am I wrong?
no subject
He is a different animal, however. And, precisely because he stands before her undisguised and unguarded, she cannot look upon him with the contempt she might have otherwise. He is too pleasing to the eye, too promising in his stature. He looks to her exactly like the sort of man whom the gods send out into the world purely by mistake, for how else would he have come by such powerful musculature? Why else would he have that brazen way about him, that obvious flirtation in his bearing? Or maybe she is only hoping that is what she sees.
His eyes attune only to her own, and because she is aware of this discretion, she slinks in to where he stands, gathering back the lengths of gold that spill across her shoulders. For the purpose, primarily, of baring the curves of her breasts for a moment before she lets her hair fall again. Lingering now within reach, she brushes a hand out to the flat of his chest, as if the touch will help her decide what his profession must have been before he found himself here. Her voice is an almost cheerful lilt, her gaze flickering up to determine whether or not she has succeeded in baiting his eyes back down to her body. ]
Doing what needs to be done. [ Killing people who stand in his way, she dearly wishes, though the smirk ghosting at her lips makes no secret of the innuendo, should he prove to have a taste for it. The bounty of opportunity here makes her eyes dance with a lively, lethal fire. ]
I suspect you are a man of hard steel instead of weak gods. Am I wrong?