pretty when i cry — joining

[Margaery]

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Well this one certainly was something. Delicate, dainty, a flower waiting for its petals to be plucked, yes she could sense an underlying sort of innocent nervousness to this Imperia girl. Genevieve delighted in stumbling across these sorts of people. The gentle were always the easiest (and most fun) to break and she, ever the monster, wondered how much she could push and prode at the she-wolf before something gave. It was a beastly thought, oh she was well aware, but Margaery had not created Genevieve to be a charming individual. She was not sunshine and roses and honeyed smiles and polite greetings. And she most certainly was not the face that Margaery, outwardly, projected to the world. Genevieve had never been good. Benevolent. Kind. Darkness loomed over her, ominous and threatening and all consuming, and she relished in it. Wanted it.

To some degree, so did Margaery. An ancient evil coursed through her veins and it was common knowledge that her vampirism had never been kind to her. One day, Genevieve knew with crisp certainty that they would once more be reunited and that she, perhaps, would be the fact that was displayed to the world.

But that was a discussion for another time and the assassin knew better than to get too lost in her own head. Even a momentary lapse in awareness would bring Margaery (or worse: Maarit or Ingrid) spiraling back into the real world. So she instead forced that empty smile to widen, her empty eyes still gleaming with that dangerous little sparkle. [color=#b14767]”Imperia, what a lovely name. Would you like a tour, sugar plum?” She inquired, not knowing what exactly she was doing. This canine could not provide her anything save an easy kill and Margaery would never permit her to sink her claws into the flesh of a new clanmate. The words had already left her mouth though and she simply couldn’t take them back. For the day, she supposed she was bound to being helpful.