Last Night...
The night sky over the Pacific bowed before them like the spineless as two figures tore through the upper heavens at velocities that made the very air surrender without protest.
Ordinary winds had learned centuries ago not to challenge beings of their caliber.
Senithe flew at the fore on the right, her dark robes streaming behind her like banners of midnight silk.
The fabric did not flap or billow, instead it flowed with deliberate, infuriating grace, as though the wind itself parted in reverence before her and sealed again in her wake, too terrified to remember it had ever dared touch her.
In moments like these the Dark Regent always entertained the same filthy, suicidal curiosity.
What if he dropped lower right below her, what would he actually see? Was she flying commando beneath all that elegant menace and he'd gaze upon the sacred nether regions he always wanted but would never ger?
