Blacktail Deer Plateau sweet talker

Indie did not really like it when he came close to her. The fatale did not like his breath nor his greasy pelt, did not like how his saliva dripped from his lips nor how his eyes seemed to glint and glitter with a strange sense of delight. She did not like how he leaned in close and how his tongue seemed to tickle each word he spoke. But still — Indie would never show this. Indie a masterful shapeshifter and as such, she knew her facade intimately. Indie flickered her saucer-like ears forward when she wanted to press them them, moved forward when she wanted to move backwards, lifted her tail when it wanted to press between her legs. The woman was in control of her body yet allowed herself to move fluidly, freely, naturally — there was a certain strength and beauty to it. With any hope, Snake would not notice her unease.

But then, the stranger spoke a word that Indie loved. Entertain? Hell yeah, Indie could entertain. It was literally what she was made for. The mummer knew how to slip into a role, any role, and play it well through intentional movements and distracting language.  The vaudevillian had been taught and tested by the best conmen/woman out there, Indie believed wholeheartedly. Indie regarded him strangely, wondering if they were playing entirely different games — Indie’s was a game of intention, of always looking for that next rung on the ladder which she could grab and use to pull herself up on. Snake’s was a game of… well, still, Indie did not truly know what game Snake played at.

“Oh, but you do not know me.” Indie crooned, somewhat mirroring his own syllabic speech and mannerisms — but there was no way that she could imitate him authentically, for his authenticity came from a place inside himself that Indie hoped to never reach. Indie backpedaled a single step as a let out another cackle, turned her head to the side as if to size him up, then stepped forward once again and brought her visage closer than ever before. Her cheek never brushed his but she pushed her maw towards his ear. “Do not know how I crave power…” Indie breathed into his dark ears, words riding upon a thick exhale, trying her hardest to steel herself against his... crazy vibes. “…influence.” The veiled mummer left her tone vague yet suggestive; there was no haughtiness that would intone sexuality, nor was there any urgency that spoke of greed. It was a simple statement that when colored by the lens of his nonsensical brain, would evince his true desires. Yes, his reaction to her statement would tell her much about him — and Indie waited with bated breath to see what it would be.