>>6169198There is another, blonde, tall — the Asterite. She is of little concern, or interest, even if that little thing shining inside her fake tooth might be interesting. Under different circumstances.
“None of them has silver hair, though…” she turns away from the trio, and then—
Her eyes must be starting to fail her in her old age.
She strides towards the two girls sitting nearby, beneath a molten monolith which would have been a road marker in the past.
The brunette one is holding something in her other hand — maybe a necklace? Hard to see — but her right one is holding one of Carnaval’s feathers. Its glowing blood bubbles and sizzles, flaring before her presence.
“The Angel must be feeling generous,” she comments, giving a wide berth to the feather. One never knows with those things.
But the girl sitting there, showing her back to the brunette, bears shoulder-length silver hair. Her blue eyes are a different shade from the mockery of Kiengiri beauty standing behind them, lighter… almost icy. The Stilladìa crouches in front of her, tilting her head again. The stars flowing between her horns like a school of thousands and thousands of fish pulsates, casting its silvery brightness over the girl’s features.
“And this would be Ansàrra’s new pawn,” she sighs, tracing the girl’s cheeks with the black nail on her fingertip. “Strong shoulders, fine features. A few too many scars for one so young, both inside and out.”
Her crimson gaze travels down the silver-haired girl’s chin, neck, collarbone, stumbling upon her exposed chest. The Stilladìa purses her lips, then tentatively cups her own svelte figure with her free hand.
<span class="mu-i">Hm.</span>
Giving the girl’s chest an explorative squeeze, one of her eyes twitches.
And so firm, too.
She <span class="mu-i">is</span> lucky her husband has such good taste in women.
[cont.]
