Black Morass despechá

power is a seductive mistress, one isobel simply cannot resist. she used to have so much of it, used to bathe in it. only to wind up with nothing. 

ione is offering it to her on a silver platter. who is isobel to refuse? 

words like honey, they make the priestess swoon. she needed not much convincing, but ione's conviction crawled beneath her skin and made itself a home. isobel's veins thrummed with desire. 

rituals. sacrifices. prayers and worship. what more is there to life, than to worship at the altar of a god who'd imbue one with power? 

she was sold. hooked, line and sinker. isobel smiles then, a glint in her eyes. 

"a woman after my own heart," she teased with soft laughter. "i don't need to hear more. i will follow you, ione. i will worship you." she declared, her mind already set. whenever ione would go, she would follow. whatever ione asked of her to do, she'd see it done with haste. 

"the gods have given me new purpose, a new path. it would be an honor to walk that path with you, my queen."

her queen, her salvation, her goddess.