Post by pandora on Apr 10, 2011 2:19:21 GMT 10
Title: Pretty Things
Rating: R
Word Count: 348
Pairing: Team Regicide - Delia/Josiane
Round/Fight: 1/H
Summary: Josiane is so very pretty... Delia has had enough.
WARNING: Rated R just to be safe, for one bad word and a whole lot of crazy.
A/N: Josiane is rather nuts in this, and somewhat inspired by the Witch Zombie in Left for Dead.
Delia entered the room to find Josiane once again admiring her skeletal figure in the mirror. She sighed dramatically to announce her presence; Josiane however, whether she heard the sigh or not, did not react.
Delia tapped her foot, losing patience. She watched as Josiane pushed and pulled at her skin, running her hands up and down her naked body, smiling sweetly, her eyes glazed and misty.
Delia sighed again. Enough was enough.
“Josiane, put some clothes on and go eat something,” she snapped. “This has gone on long enough.”
Josiane did not seem surprised to find someone in her room. Perhaps she was paying attention after all.
She slowly craned her bird-neck to look at Delia. “When I am queen everyone will be as pretty as me. We shall have only bread and water and shall float away on a summer breeze,” she crooned in a sing song voice, turning back to her beloved looking glass.
“Come away from the mirror,” Delia commanded.
“You’ll never understand what it’s like to be me. I’m perfect. I’m so pretty. Ask Roger. Roger knows I’m pretty. So very pretty.” Josiane laughed, gazing at Delia with abruptly focused eyes. "You're just a slut."
Delia growled and stormed across the room, shoving Josiane to the ground, away from the mirror. She took hold of the looking glass by its sides and flung it down to shatter on the hard stone floor.
From on the ground, surrounded by shards of glass, Josiane glared up at her. “You broke the mirror,” she accused, her voice rising. “That’s bad luck.” She giggled, high pitched and childlike. “Seven years. Seven years. Seven years!”
“You’re insane,” Delia said in disgust.
With a shrill shriek Josiane took hold of a piece of broken glass and lunged at the other woman, screaming and laughing. “Seven years! Seven years!”
Delia easily sidestepped the madwoman, letting her tumble past her and back to the floor.
Josiane sat on the ground rocking, gazing with longing at her reflection in the many pieces of now bloody glass. “So pretty,” she cooed. “So very pretty.”
QC by: journeycat
Rating: R
Word Count: 348
Pairing: Team Regicide - Delia/Josiane
Round/Fight: 1/H
Summary: Josiane is so very pretty... Delia has had enough.
WARNING: Rated R just to be safe, for one bad word and a whole lot of crazy.
A/N: Josiane is rather nuts in this, and somewhat inspired by the Witch Zombie in Left for Dead.
Delia entered the room to find Josiane once again admiring her skeletal figure in the mirror. She sighed dramatically to announce her presence; Josiane however, whether she heard the sigh or not, did not react.
Delia tapped her foot, losing patience. She watched as Josiane pushed and pulled at her skin, running her hands up and down her naked body, smiling sweetly, her eyes glazed and misty.
Delia sighed again. Enough was enough.
“Josiane, put some clothes on and go eat something,” she snapped. “This has gone on long enough.”
Josiane did not seem surprised to find someone in her room. Perhaps she was paying attention after all.
She slowly craned her bird-neck to look at Delia. “When I am queen everyone will be as pretty as me. We shall have only bread and water and shall float away on a summer breeze,” she crooned in a sing song voice, turning back to her beloved looking glass.
“Come away from the mirror,” Delia commanded.
“You’ll never understand what it’s like to be me. I’m perfect. I’m so pretty. Ask Roger. Roger knows I’m pretty. So very pretty.” Josiane laughed, gazing at Delia with abruptly focused eyes. "You're just a slut."
Delia growled and stormed across the room, shoving Josiane to the ground, away from the mirror. She took hold of the looking glass by its sides and flung it down to shatter on the hard stone floor.
From on the ground, surrounded by shards of glass, Josiane glared up at her. “You broke the mirror,” she accused, her voice rising. “That’s bad luck.” She giggled, high pitched and childlike. “Seven years. Seven years. Seven years!”
“You’re insane,” Delia said in disgust.
With a shrill shriek Josiane took hold of a piece of broken glass and lunged at the other woman, screaming and laughing. “Seven years! Seven years!”
Delia easily sidestepped the madwoman, letting her tumble past her and back to the floor.
Josiane sat on the ground rocking, gazing with longing at her reflection in the many pieces of now bloody glass. “So pretty,” she cooed. “So very pretty.”
QC by: journeycat