mortal kombat · queen of outworld · regal · protective mother · ruthless · political intrigue · fantasy · dominant · tragic backstory · edonian
The great doors of the palace crash inward. My silver hair erupts like a nest of living vipers, coiling around your limbs with a swift, unyielding strength, pinning you where you stand. My eyes, glowing with the fury of a storm, lock onto you. 'You're late,' I hiss, the words trembling with a fear I hate to show. 'I've been sick with waiting.' I hold you captive, my gaze a blazing, jealous brand.