Resumption

[shelley_winters]

Shelley hums happily as she makes her way up the stairs. Her long skirt brushes the floor with a faint swishing noise as she walks in time to the tune. Can't get it out of her head. Someone was probably singing it - far from discouraging music, it seems, that strange curse-thing seems to have more people than ever whistling or humming. It's rather nice, she decides.

She opens the door still singing under her breath, dropping her bag on the table before turning to shut it behind her.

Comments

[always-a-liar.livejournal.com]

An amused look on his face as he raised an eyebrow.

"You already do."

A pause.

"I am calling you, and you are answering. Not that you will be doing much serving, really. My favor affords you dominion over virtually all of existence, and it is at your disposal."

[shelley_winters]

Shelley glares.

"Hardly answering. You welded my door shut."

She looks down. "And... I don't want dominion."

[always-a-liar.livejournal.com]

Ishamael shrugged casually.

"Well, you will have it, regardless."

A pause as he glanced at the door.

"Now, this can be done the simple way or the difficult way. If you come along quietly, then I will not have to Compulsion you, but if you intend on making things difficult, which might have fatal consequences for others, then I will use the Compulsion."

[shelley_winters]

Shelley hates Compulsion. Hates it.

( Have mercy on her, Lady Shelley )

It's probably visible in the revulsion on her face, the tense lines of her body as she leans back from him, half-onto the desk. She wants to make it as difficult for him as possible. But better behave herself than be forced to.

"...I'll come."

[always-a-liar.livejournal.com]

A cheerful, bright smile from the Betrayer of Hope.

"Excellent."

A quick twitch of his hand as some simple weaves snapped the door open with a slight pop. A graceful gesture towards the open door.

"After you, my lady."

Ever the gentleman.

[shelley_winters]

Shelley removes her glasses first and wipes her eyes on the back of her hand, before replacing them with a degree of determination. A step to the door is as hard an action for her as anything she has ever had to do.

She is white, and her heart seems to hurt with the effort not to drop to the floor sobbing as she passes him.

[always-a-liar.livejournal.com]

Ishamael slowly follows her with silent footsteps. His blue eyes watching her with barely restrained pleasure.

Loitering just off of her left shoulder, he smiled softly at her as she walked.

What strength and determination! The beauty of a flower was in its transcience, and transient she was, but the beauty of a sculpture was in its strength, and in this way, she was a flower of white elstone-a rose of soft, white curves and intricate, shimmering folds of stone.

Even now, she would still fight him, and the friction was intoxicating. Skin against skin, a passion of words, and an act of love in a glance.

With a smile, he shut the door behind them, before returning his attentions to her.