strange_natures

“I know chess is your favourite, why the fuck else do you reckon Molly never played for keeps with it?” Perdita said. She kept her face carefully blank as she felt the brush of Molly’s presence against the back of her eye: a quick tickle of a component part giving the outside world a disapproving stare.

Molly Woods, who’d challenged Death and won over a dozen times on behalf of others, then gone down in an act of self-sacrifice and denied her long-time opponent the final grudge match.

Death had been livid.

But that was then, and this was now. Perdita moved her bishop, and then slouched comfortably into the cool sands of the Place Between. They weren't playing for keeps today - well, not exactly. She’d built a far different relationship with The Fairest Of Them All. Still antagonistic, to be sure, but along an angle that probably hadn’t even occurred to her avatar.

Plastering the cheekiest, most irritating grin she could muster across her face, Perdita stretched out her leg and nudged her toes beneath the hem of the night-dark robe, seeking a slender ankle.

She’d lost her shoes and socks three matches ago, but it was to be expected: strip chess just isn’t her game.


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