Daedra had never liked her name as a child. It had been placed upon her as a warning for others: this girl is evil, an omen of bad luck. But she was no longer a lost little filly, and she had had the time to mull it over. A name was just a name, a meaningless label for the convenience of others. If she had told the stallion her name was Sarah he would have had no cause not to believe her. She held her ground as his red face crept a little closer, never dropping his gaze. “So, Vercingetorix,” she began, twirling his name around her tongue. It was a mouthful, certainly unique, but not altogether unpleasant. “You’ve brought me back to your lair – or whatever this place is.” Daedra paused a moment there to turn her head and survey what could be seen of their surroundings in the darkness. The trees rose high above them, outstretched arms clinging to each other as they raced to reach the clouds. The ground was covered in a blanket of short grass, still damp underfoot from recent rainfall; it appeared well travelled, but not altogether unsuitable for grazing. It seemed a pleasant enough place – plenty of nooks and crannies. “So what now?” she asked, her gaze sliding back over to Vercingetorix. Her voice was quiet and ever so slightly husky, a playful smirk reappearing on her velvety lips as she tilted her head at him. “Are you going to have your wicked way with me?” |