He remained on his altar perch as she stood, as she straightened, as she looked him over. For an agonizingly long time, he did nothing to acknowledge her at all beyond continuing to stare at her with those bright, unblinking eyes.
It wasn't until after her question that he gave any response. Abruptly, his eyes shifted slightly to the side, tilting. A generous imagination could picture a dog tilting its head in curiosity. But still, he remained atop the altar and made no movements toward her. Every so often, a tendril of smoky shadow would slide out from his mass and wrap itself around the altar, as though trying to keep a grip.
At last, a near-agonizing wait later, he moved, sliding forward a few feet. His "head" lowered, but only a little, his mass still looming tall over her.
What would he have her do? The ritual, of course. But now that she stood before him, and he can see her, his all-important Vessel-Bride, the ritual seemed like a fleeting thing that he learned and forgot long ago. He was to bed this woman? He was to enact that... thing they showed him upon her? She was supposed to touch him?
A tendril suddenly emerged from the mass, a thing that looked very briefly like a deformed, grasping hand. It came within five yards of touching her, then drew back and hovered in what might be described as an awkward manner.
no subject
It wasn't until after her question that he gave any response. Abruptly, his eyes shifted slightly to the side, tilting. A generous imagination could picture a dog tilting its head in curiosity. But still, he remained atop the altar and made no movements toward her. Every so often, a tendril of smoky shadow would slide out from his mass and wrap itself around the altar, as though trying to keep a grip.
At last, a near-agonizing wait later, he moved, sliding forward a few feet. His "head" lowered, but only a little, his mass still looming tall over her.
What would he have her do? The ritual, of course. But now that she stood before him, and he can see her, his all-important Vessel-Bride, the ritual seemed like a fleeting thing that he learned and forgot long ago. He was to bed this woman? He was to enact that... thing they showed him upon her? She was supposed to touch him?
A tendril suddenly emerged from the mass, a thing that looked very briefly like a deformed, grasping hand. It came within five yards of touching her, then drew back and hovered in what might be described as an awkward manner.