Xiaolin Showdown does not belong to me.
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"Am I not beautiful, Raimundo?" she asked with a manipulative red painted pout.
Yes, without a doubt, beautiful with her tall willowy frame, the magnificent garnet tresses that flowed slowly down, searing his eyesight with its luster, cherry-red tendrils entwining in her arms, like snakes, enigmatic cavernous eyes glowing a bright green hue framed by long thick eyelashes, commanding him to her side. Silky soft skin kissed by the sun, glowing with an inhuman radiance.
"Am I not sensuous...am I not desirable, Raimundo?" she inquired with a calculating toss of her claret mane over her elegant features.
Sensuous described the raven. She always moved with the uttermost elegance and purpose; never faltering, always slowly, a sleek panther stalking its quarry; wide hips swinging to and fro as she walked. Teeny tiny feet stepping gracefully on any terrain; forever posing perfectly. Slim body twisting seductively upon her stone throne, nymph-like legs flung over the armrests carelessly; beckoning him forth; calling him with her raspy velvet voice and red tipped fingers. Heavy red curls falling over her elfin face with a calculating seductive allure; perfect scarlet nails entangling in its length. Sensual lips so full so red, pouting, demanding full attention from him.
"Am I not powerful, Raimundo?" she questioned with a cunning gleam in her green eyes.
Weak was not in her vocabulary. The raven was delicately, fragilely built with her none-threatening figure, often underestimated. Her tiny slim hands wrapping around his throat, chocking him with her grasp, long maroon claws tearing his yielding flesh. Long slim legs able to knock the wind out of his lean frame; tiny foot settling upon his hand, crushing it. Perfect bow shaped mouth curving into a wicked smile, exhibiting small pointed teeth; drawing his ruby-red blood, watching the small drops that clung to her smiling lips.
"Am I not all that you desired, Raimundo?" she queried with a tone full of honeyed over ingenuity.
That is where she was mistaken. He did not want her rivulets of blood flowering; splattering, spreading on his own sun-kissed flesh; he wished that silky ebony hair vanquished the smoky red tendrils. He disliked those bottomless emerald eyes which gazed at him in lust, greed and disdain; yearned for wide open blue oceans to wash away that dark abyss which were her eyes. He wanted her cold touch; of crocodile feel; of satin texture to be replaced by a warm silky touch. He desired that the raven's cold red lips that kissed his lips to fade into warm pink petals. He craved the warm love that passionate red fire had to offer instead of the love that the icy emerald fire seized.
"Am I not pleasing you, Raimundo?" she requested with a sullen face and burning emerald eyes.
"No, you are not..." he said as she and her beautiful red hair, vivid emerald eyes and plump wine-red lips vanished and was replaced by lovely midnight tresses, open blue ocean eyes and plump pink lips.
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Throw a dog a bone…