Fic: "Feline Grace"

[wave_of_sorrow]

Title: Feline Grace
Author: wave_of_sorrow
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Irene, Irene/OC (implied), Holmes/Irene (implied)
Rating: PG?
Word Count: 459
Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't claim. No money being made.
Summary: It is not her beauty that draws him to her, though beautiful she is.
Spoilers/Warnings: none
A/N: Fill for a prompt at shkinkmeme 



She is unlike anything he has ever seen. It is not her beauty that draws him to her, though beautiful she is. It is something in the way she grins, dark eyes twinkling with mischief. Something in the way she cocks a challenging eyebrow, daring anyone to get into her way. Something in her swagger, hips swaying in hypnotizing motions. Something in the way she laughs when she runs away, cheeks flushed and out of breath, hair tousled, stolen sapphires sparkling around her neck as the clock strikes twelve. He thinks her graceful.


And then he sees her dark side. The side that is willing to do anything. The side that knows no boundaries, no mercy. She does not scratch or slap; she punches, she hits, she fights. And emerges victorious, bruises and abrasions going unnoticed as she stakes her claim, pockets filled with diamonds and silver. She sells her body, her soul, herself, to the highest bidder. She smiles darkly as they all believe anyone could own her. She gives them what they want and takes what she wants in turn. And there is something in the way she pulls a trigger. Unhesitating. Merciless. Graceful.


She makes heads turn when she enters a room, rubies crowning her head, pearls tinkling out of her pockets. She dances, drawing all eyes to her, knives concealed beneath satin and lace. She breaks necks and fights like a man, heels clicking on the cobblestones. She steals and lies and she loves it. And she gets away with it. She is shameless. And there is something in the way she handles a knife. Vicious. Devilish. Graceful.


It is her grace that draws him to her. Something in the way she winks at him as she gets onto a train, her laughter getting lost in the distance. Something in the way she moves that he can never quite put his finger on. Her perfume makes him dizzy, makes his head spin as her hair spins around her neck in mesmerizing circles. It is in the way she smirks knowingly. In the way she is always a step ahead, never losing her footing. In the way she always lands on her feet with that feline grace of hers.


Her grace is of a dangerous kind. It draws you in, into her orbit, traps you there. It distracts you while she hides jewels and daggers in her corset. Her grace has edges to it, sharp as a knife’s blade. Her grace is not of a gentle nature. It is deceiving. And that is precisely why they all fall for her. Her grace is their downfall.


Her lips part in a slow, predatory smile as she catches Holmes’ eye from across the room. He is no different.