Black Morass despechá

claws dig into the smooth surface of bone, creating hollow little grooves in their wake. a woman joins her; gorgeous and with an air of nobility and influence. her voice is as soft as silk. isobel returns the smile, beguiling and calm. 

the pair of icy eyes were assessing, vigilant. the priestess meant no trouble, less the woman standing before her asked for such.

with a languid, cat-like stretch, she rises from her perch and nudges the skull aside with her paw. turning to face the woman, her eyes of citrine rake over her, unashamedly. she'd always been an admirer of beauty, and this sylph was no exception. 

"mi nombre es isobel. ¿y tú, bella?" she hums, her voice a seductive purr.