The Sentinels I had a dream last night,

bijou's lips would have curled in a delighted smile to be referred to as a sea-hag. she imagined she earned many epithets; very few were flattering.

but this woman... was fucking delightful.

the lioness fixed bijou with a wicked stare; it was cold and terribly alone, like ice glaciers moving across a dark bay. it stirred something commanding in the sojourner, who often saw very few women of her own ilk. "do you have a king, umbra of house ironclan?" bijou's voice was hushed and almost respectful, but a glitter of mischief shone in her eyes. "or are you queen of house ironclam?"