Rqecia

"Oh, Princess," the Raven Queen croons beside her ear, "my favoured one. You've done well this day. I am pleased by your competence."

Lucretia smiles as politely as she can in the presence of a Godly being she has only known for a measure of time. They are… /acquainted/, as some might say, but standing so near to opalescent blackness and masses of feathers still prompts her newly-useless heart to race.

"Thank you, your majesty." She licks her lip, steadies her footing. "Though I think you'll find /princess/ might be the wrong word, as that might imply I'm your daughter, or perhaps am married to some sort of prince."

They both scowl, at that thought. The Queen's expression is less physical, with Her many not-faces and swirling mass, but Lucretia feels it inside her in a way she's getting more used to.

"Careful, girl," comes Her voice, a little louder and more awesome - biblically speaking - than before, "I like your bite. But I assure you, mine will draw more blood."

That almost has Lucretia whimpering, and not nearly just from fear.

"I spoke without thinking, my Queen, forgive my insolence." She tries. And then a little more carefully, once the alive-and-dead mass of her Queen feels a degree warmer against her skin: "Might I apologise properly in kneeling prayer?"

It comes out as a more of a question, more /eager/, than Lucretia intended. Still, her highness must be pleased, as feathers, claws, faces, not-faces, and millions of other everythings-and-nothings condense until a single mortal figure remains. Seated on Her obsidian throne inside feather-lined nest. Slouched in a way that still manages the highest degree of regality. Legs spread.

"Lucretia, my pet. Always full of wise ideas."