Stavanger Bay Your cruelty, and your neglect?

This vixen of a woman before him seems to be having a good time playing with him. What he believes is that she’s trying to get a reaction out of him, to spook him and have his reverence run away scared of the wrath of God. Scared to sin. He would do no such thing, God is forgiving. He is an understanding and merciful God.

Though for some reason, he can also see the odd familiarity in her. Or maybe she’s like this with everyone? Is something he keeps going back to. What does interest him to endless levels is what comes from her sweet lips next. The seven deadly sins. Oh she is one of the sinful and she has no shame about it. It’s her pride, but doesn’t he have a problem with pride too? No, no, O’Mally is also humble. The opposite of this dangerous wolf of the night. But most importantly, he is not completely a wolf of the light either.

So as her words come, naturally he reacts. His smile growing for a moment and his brows lifting in a type of acknowledgment. “I see.” Comes his curt response, almost professional — until it’s not. 

He stands then, moving to paces languidly around her — if she allows. If he were a human he’d have his hands folded together neatly behind his back as he walks around her. Chin tilted slightly up and eyes casted to the shore, away from her for a few moments. His smile is gone now, replaced with an expression of thought. 

“You possess three of the seven deadly sins — the seven deadly vices that drag one into more cunning sins and further immoral behavior.” He turn to look at her now. Icy orbs akin to the ocean flick to her face. “Pride or vainglory — inordinate pride in oneself or one’s achievements, excessive vanity.” He says the definition much to easily, the emphasis on the piece that has her exact name in it. Yet at the mention of her name in the definition has him cracking a teasing smile.

Next sin! He still, paces around her, but stops on her right side and lowers his head just slightly to look her in the eyes. “Lust.” He says voice deep and suggestively husky, smile gone and a crisp pronunciation of the t in said word. “An inordinate or illicit sexual desire. An obsession — whether it be physical or mental.” His eyes linger on her own and purposely flick to her mouth before he’s moving on physically and topically.

“Wrath.” He starts then. “Now, everyone can suffer of wrath, it’s not hard. I’m sure you don’t feel like hearing me ramble on forever now though. Do you?” He chuckles then, his easy smile returning as he sits back in front of her. “Anyway,” He says with a comical roll of his eyes. “You can be fixed, but do you want to be fixed, Vanity?” Comes the question of the hour.