<div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/b7JTdk3.jpg)</div><strong>Who:</strong>Cecile Feathermour (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=312830.msg15158798#msg15158798)<br/><strong>Where:</strong>The Lair of Tentacles - Eastern Halls<br/><strong>When:</strong>Grand Opening Night?<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Tattered Dress<br/><strong>Tagging: </strong>Hydorah, Engaro the Mighty, fans and spectators<br/><br/><strong>Match:</strong>LOT-1 (Game of Queens)<br/><strong>Round: </strong>Prematch<br/><strong>HP:</strong>25<br/><strong>Status/Conditions: </strong>Combat<br/><strong>Elliquiy User ID (for die roller):</strong>70332<br/><br/><hr/><br/><div style="text-align: justify;"><strong>“With our beloved queen’s crowd-pleasing repute firmly established, it’s time to unveil the wild card of tonight’s main course. Meeting someone new is a divine pleasure unlike any other, and I am tremendously excited to introduce Egnaro’s latest find, the ferocious Cecile!”</strong><br/>The announcer awaiting the challenger’s arrival with bated breath as commotion stirred from Cecile’s point of entrance. Concluding the announcement, they opined, <strong>“Ladies and Gentle beings, pleasures shall be had on this joyous occasion of clashing queens, and you will witness it all in excruciating detail - so lean back, relax and take in the scenery in all its depraved glory!”</strong><br/><br/>The unmistakable clack of heels reverberated through the eastern hallways… only, it wasn’t elegant, and lacked the refined rhythmic balance between femininity and practicality. Moments later, through the half-light of the encroaching tunnel she trickled from, sauntered the immortal beauty, Cecile, one elongated, charcoal-studded leg at a time. The serene, yet undeniably grotesque beauty walked on delicate tips, trodden ground as pristine in her wake as it was prior. Brandishing these sadistic contraptions was something she found enticing beyond belief, and she did so with an unrelenting grace and sense of delighted pride, always. Like a well-oiled machine, each limb rolled effortlessly in its socket as they carried her forth – each lined with rows of bony protrusions and a smattering of matte colorations ranging from ‘abyssal ink,’ and ‘fiendish crimson’ to ‘screaming obsidian.’ She was a sight to behold in every sense of the word, from her shadow-infused and generously rounded splendor; succulent meat bulging inadequately as the dark kimono-like dress did its darndest to cover up what little it could, to the fiercely capable aura she exuded so comfortably and everything in between. She put it all on grand display with not an inkling of shame to be gleamed. <br/><br/>Lithe fingers slid between folds of thick, red wool - hand-woven and soaked with a fortune of exotic dyes. Made of countless strands of silk so velvety smooth that they had slid over her body like liquid, as utterly comfortable as nudity, she clenched the cloak with a barely audible crunch – like walking on freshly-fallen snow. There was a tension in the woman, fleetingly relieved by the comfort of the sight of hundreds of willing souls, stacked and sorted as neatly as she would a parcel of silk. Cecile’s fine brow creased in a light scowl as she took in the view like an irresistible potion, a kinky thrill ravaging her spine. The immortal radiance of her scarlet eyes gleamed with a predatory thrill fueled by an ever-lasting rapturous hunger and mocking thirst – their nonchalant passage across the perimeter cutting through the crowd like a heated steak-knife through butter. Then they snapped to attention and focused on the vaguely female figure at the epicenter of the arena, wild-eyed as a damned soul in purgatory might look at Satan passing in regal splendor through the seventy times sevenfold circles of hell. <br/><br/>There was a queer interval of silence, and one might have been frightened by what they saw on the strange woman’s face, and deservedly so, because there nothing at all; the black nothing of a crevasse folded into an alpine meadow, a blackness where no flowers grew and into which the drop was long. She glanced at the amorphous being askance, unsure whether Egnaro was knees deep in stark raving or merely fooling with her. She knew better than to judge an opponent on their appearance, of course, but the display was nothing short of absurd.<br/><br/>Though outwardly urbane, it was evident that a cloying vulgarity plotted within the lurking threat, and as the moment of conflict drew nigh, the pallid figure revealed her inhuman desires in all their stultifying hideousness with a grueling, face-splitting smirk and a sultry chuckle, laced with the wrath of eons.<br/><br/>Seemingly unphased by the gelatinous liquid, she advanced in strides, her splendid frame hovering a constant, short distance above the trickling streams of waving organs. Overflowing in sluggish, gunk-clogged channels and sludge-hidden pools, the stage brought a strange sense of belonging to Cecile’s wretched heart. Taking her stance a distance from the mound-shaped elevation the other rested upon, she folded forward in an formal bow, all the while performing an elaborate pantomime of keeping quiet while asserting the situation at large.</div><br/><hr/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">OOC Block</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong>Damage dealt to XXXX:</strong> -<br/><strong>Status change requests:</strong> -<br/><strong>Notes/comments:</strong> Itching to get down and dirty.<br/></div></div>