"Are you going to make me?" Delia's voice was mocking as she addressed her sister, throwing a smirk over her shoulder. Climbing to her feet, the demoness tugged on her jacket and turned to face Izissa. "Well, Izzy? Aren't you going to stop me?" Pitch black orbs met storm grey. "Or have you /finally/ realized that I don't listen to you anymore?"
YOU ARE READING
OC Drabbles
General FictionA collection of bits of writing for my various characters, conviently all in one place! So, yeah!
