the haunting

In mere moments, there he was. Her summons had worked.

Her heart flew to her throat, as she looked to the majestic boy-turning-man look down upon her. None had looked at her in such a way. She had not let them; she carried Atropos, and was her vessel. Those that disrespected Her were cursed... but this, she did not feel, was disrespect (and that was her bias for him and toward him).

His question caused her larger ears (bestowed upon her from her coyote father) to fall back, and she looked bashfully away. Shego was a woman who could be exceptionally charismatic; she was well-spoken, and her tongue was always sure in her mouth. But as she spoke, it gave way beneath the flimsy weight of her name, and she frowned. "S-Shego,"

How odd! How delightful! Yet how horrible! How embarrassing! That her tongue should turn against her, make her look so... so...

Her eyes slid shyly to him. "I saw you, the other day," she admitted then, "I ran away. I had to see you again," she is breathy, now; but she does not know discretion, has never been taught it. While Shego was a trickster, and a liar, this was the truth of it as she knew it. "Have you ever felt that way?" She was captivated, enamored; Shego could not look away.

Everything was changing.

She thought she might live and breathe for him; what was her purpose? For what reason had she come here? Clotho was all but forgotten.