Frey sighs—not with disappointment, but with a theatrical sort of fondness, like a parent humouring a child who’s just picked sugar over spice. "Puppy it is," they murmur, the smile curling on their lips far too wicked for such an innocent word. Then, with the air of someone who absolutely knows what could have been, they glance to the cucumber still lying beside the shrine and lift it with languid fingers. Their brows bounce, slowly and deliberately as they waggle it at Sunjata.
"Such potential," they lament, not sounding disappointed at all. With a grin that could melt glaciers, they set the cucumber gently aside, then trail their fingers up their side with a touch like velvet lightning—though the sensation echoes twice, sparking heat just beneath the skin of both Colt and Sunjata, like their nerves were momentarily aligned.
Then they lean down, utterly nude and unabashed, to kiss the puppy on the forehead, their lips glowing faintly with power. The creature yawns and snuggles closer. "All right," Frey purrs, straightening again. "Playful it is. The path of instincts and joy, of clever teeth and soft bellies. You’ll shall have your quest, little hunter." And indeed she does—clear and shimmering, pressed into the back of her mind like a heat-dream remembered on waking.
They step back, licking their lips, and blow a kiss in Colt’s direction before sliding their gaze to Sunjata and winking. Then they vanish—not with a flash or crack, but like pleasure fading from the skin: slow, warm, and impossible to chase. Only the scent of honeysuckle and want lingers in the air.
Colt has been given a quest! She must
1. Do something that sparks joy!
2. Make up a game and get someone else to play it with her
3. Turn something dull into something sharp (interpretation up to you)
4. Indulge in an activity that makes her boneless and puppy-tired.
"Such potential," they lament, not sounding disappointed at all. With a grin that could melt glaciers, they set the cucumber gently aside, then trail their fingers up their side with a touch like velvet lightning—though the sensation echoes twice, sparking heat just beneath the skin of both Colt and Sunjata, like their nerves were momentarily aligned.
Then they lean down, utterly nude and unabashed, to kiss the puppy on the forehead, their lips glowing faintly with power. The creature yawns and snuggles closer. "All right," Frey purrs, straightening again. "Playful it is. The path of instincts and joy, of clever teeth and soft bellies. You’ll shall have your quest, little hunter." And indeed she does—clear and shimmering, pressed into the back of her mind like a heat-dream remembered on waking.
They step back, licking their lips, and blow a kiss in Colt’s direction before sliding their gaze to Sunjata and winking. Then they vanish—not with a flash or crack, but like pleasure fading from the skin: slow, warm, and impossible to chase. Only the scent of honeysuckle and want lingers in the air.
Colt has been given a quest! She must
1. Do something that sparks joy!
2. Make up a game and get someone else to play it with her
3. Turn something dull into something sharp (interpretation up to you)
4. Indulge in an activity that makes her boneless and puppy-tired.
