12-12-2013, 09:27 AM
Silas and Yuri skulked away. Their defeat filled Spectra with the thrill of a woman's conquest. This was where her power was bred, in toying with the strings of men's desire, rather than brutish force. It was their own fault. She was the product of evolution. A manipulative child prodigy had to adapt or die. Given her upbringing, Spectra adapted flawlessly.
Her confidence soared among the stars, and it remained broad and strong as Hood's capable shoulders. She looked to him, triumphant in her own success. However, when the sickening presence of a sweet sister emerged, the prize in her enchanted fans shifted. Silas snapped like a croc's jaws on a slab of meat, and it was clear who it was he wanted to devour. The object of his admiration turned toward the one whom Spectra warmed as well.
She was a blunted, semi-precious stone, pale and flat. The mournful sound of a howler monkey crying in the distance. How an animal like Silas could turn his back on Spectra and seek out this clawing beast in her place was inconceivable.
Jaxen's approach refrained her from damning him for his foolishness, and she laid back on her branch like a jaguar deciding its prey was not worth the chase. Jaxen was entertaining enough for the moment, and Spectra derived no shortage of delight that Oriena's man had abandoned her.
She smiled seductively. Jaxen was young and handsome, and she could thoroughly imagine the tingling graze of his fingertips along her skin. Dark haired and pale faced, he was as Russian as the bleeding walls of the Kremlin. Spectra meanwhile was a golden goddess, warm and swaying as the sands of the Sahara. Her dark rimmed eyes mystic with ancient promise, like some barely grasped civilization whose stories still beguiled mankind today.
When Jaxen goaded Hood, Spectra's smile parted to a glistening pair of lips. She removed her arm from his elbow, not because he needed both arms to drop a scrappy belligerent like Jaxen, but because when he did, she wanted the gratification of a good view, and show off the classic, my man is better than yours, for Oriena.
However, Spectra was not antagonistic for the sole purpose of war-mongering. In the end, she was still a working-girl, and Jaxen, as nouveau riche, a potential client. One whose company she would not mind sharing in the future, especially if it came with an enormous boost in her bank account. Little else mattered more than money in this world. Except, perhaps, the respect of her inferiors, but the two thrones of money and respect were tangled more closely than her intentions for the night - whether that involved two, three, or a foursome - her time could always be purchased with the right currency.
For now, the man that gave her the freedoms she wielded today, paid for her company back in the tangled hellhole that was Colombia. Spectra's life was a harsh line, but she was not an unfair ruler of the hive, and sometimes the queen wanted to enjoy the honey of her worker's labors.
Her confidence soared among the stars, and it remained broad and strong as Hood's capable shoulders. She looked to him, triumphant in her own success. However, when the sickening presence of a sweet sister emerged, the prize in her enchanted fans shifted. Silas snapped like a croc's jaws on a slab of meat, and it was clear who it was he wanted to devour. The object of his admiration turned toward the one whom Spectra warmed as well.
She was a blunted, semi-precious stone, pale and flat. The mournful sound of a howler monkey crying in the distance. How an animal like Silas could turn his back on Spectra and seek out this clawing beast in her place was inconceivable.
Jaxen's approach refrained her from damning him for his foolishness, and she laid back on her branch like a jaguar deciding its prey was not worth the chase. Jaxen was entertaining enough for the moment, and Spectra derived no shortage of delight that Oriena's man had abandoned her.
She smiled seductively. Jaxen was young and handsome, and she could thoroughly imagine the tingling graze of his fingertips along her skin. Dark haired and pale faced, he was as Russian as the bleeding walls of the Kremlin. Spectra meanwhile was a golden goddess, warm and swaying as the sands of the Sahara. Her dark rimmed eyes mystic with ancient promise, like some barely grasped civilization whose stories still beguiled mankind today.
When Jaxen goaded Hood, Spectra's smile parted to a glistening pair of lips. She removed her arm from his elbow, not because he needed both arms to drop a scrappy belligerent like Jaxen, but because when he did, she wanted the gratification of a good view, and show off the classic, my man is better than yours, for Oriena.
However, Spectra was not antagonistic for the sole purpose of war-mongering. In the end, she was still a working-girl, and Jaxen, as nouveau riche, a potential client. One whose company she would not mind sharing in the future, especially if it came with an enormous boost in her bank account. Little else mattered more than money in this world. Except, perhaps, the respect of her inferiors, but the two thrones of money and respect were tangled more closely than her intentions for the night - whether that involved two, three, or a foursome - her time could always be purchased with the right currency.
For now, the man that gave her the freedoms she wielded today, paid for her company back in the tangled hellhole that was Colombia. Spectra's life was a harsh line, but she was not an unfair ruler of the hive, and sometimes the queen wanted to enjoy the honey of her worker's labors.