Cora

Focal Point

Izroul crossed the room to aide his new companion with the bath water, quickly turning the corner, before he caught sight of her and froze. He knew he was staring, but he couldn't have stopped himself if he tried.

Cora was beautiful.

That was his first thought as he stared at the girl standing in front him with his mouth gaping open and his mind running in circles.

And not just a little beautiful, but truly stunning. Her hair was still wet and it hung in heavy ebony ringlets with curls cascading down to the small of her back. Some pets were starved into submission when they misbehaved, but that had obviously not been Cora's experience. Instead of a malnourished figure, she was nothing but softness and curves; the only sharpness to her at all could be found in her perfectly formed cheekbones. The skirt of the dress he had provided her stopped at her knees, exposing shapely and toned calves. While the neckline was modest and the sleeves were long, what he could see of her skin was pale and creamy.

The allure of her body though, paled in comparison to the attractiveness of her face. Her dark, grey eyes were wide and naturally emphasized by long, long lashes while her pink lips were plump without being overly full.

It was easy to see why she had been selected by the demons who wandered the human world in secret, abducting potential merchandise. The price she could fetch at a pleasure house would tempt many a buyer.

Izroul had been so caught up in his conflicting emotions, so full of joy and guilt, that he hadn't given any real thought to the mystery of what she might look like under all the grime and bruises. Why would he care? Many pretty demon girls wore cruelty like the finest of jewels. Beauty was no sign of kindness, compassion, or anything else he valued.

If he had bothered to guess at all, he'd have assumed that she was particularly unappealing; otherwise, she usually wouldn't have been treated as roughly regardless of behavior. That was obviously not the case and he couldn't help wondering just how badly she would have had to piss the slavers off in order for them to be happier beating her than selling her for a large profit.

Seeing her now, he couldn't help but worry; her physical attributes were going to be a problem. He frowned as his eyes raked over her once more, searching for some fatal flaw to cling to, and finding none.

His father would never have picked her for his much despised youngest son if the Demon Lord had known she looked like this.

He swallowed heavily as he considered the ramifications of that. She could be taken away from him for this.

Izroul's gaze returned to her face where he caught her eye briefly before he dropped his stare to the floor and cleared his throat. The was standing across from him with clenched fists, looking flushed and suspicious. With a pulse of guilt, he realized he had been staring much longer than was really appropriate or polite.

'Should have stayed dirty,' her thoughts rang out, cluttering up his skull. 'Should have kept the smell of blood, then he wouldn't tou-'

"You're too pretty," he blurted out, interrupting before she could accuse him of considering assaulting her in the privacy of her own thoughts . Cora's musings stuttered out and she visibly started before staring at him hard with a lifted brow.

"I just- I'm betting it's caused you grief here," he continued quickly, glancing up from the spot on the floor he'd been staring holes into to see her looking thoughtful. "Oh, that's awful, isn't it? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It's just- I assumed you didn't look like THIS under everything, but I can imagine that hasn't been something that did you any favors..."

He trailed off, blushing brightly and suddenly unsure of what he was trying to communicate, but Cora's laugh cut through the tension that had been building with a sweet, musical quality.