AmaLIa
shield of safrin
Heat meets heat, lust meets lust; he answers her ferocity with his own, and Amalia relishes the reality of it, the passion of battlefields and fire and blood directed wholly on her. He takes her face and she lowers her arms, snaking around his neck, using his body as leverage to bring herself closer to him, hungry and heady with her own avarice.
He backs her up until her legs hit the empty tub, cold against the back of her knees. Amalia raises her foot up to the lip, giving herself a little more height; her hands now trail down his front again, searching for the waistband of his trousers. She's more interested in getting them off than preserving their quality, and it shows in the urgency of her actions.
There's a ferocity in her that's echoed in her form, mostly human but with the beginnings of talons, sharp nails dexterous as she tugs on his pants. On her forehead the nubs of horns have developed, lilac and silver; her hair, too, has sprouted dawn-colored streaks, the qilin asserting its dominance over her figure.
He backs her up until her legs hit the empty tub, cold against the back of her knees. Amalia raises her foot up to the lip, giving herself a little more height; her hands now trail down his front again, searching for the waistband of his trousers. She's more interested in getting them off than preserving their quality, and it shows in the urgency of her actions.
There's a ferocity in her that's echoed in her form, mostly human but with the beginnings of talons, sharp nails dexterous as she tugs on his pants. On her forehead the nubs of horns have developed, lilac and silver; her hair, too, has sprouted dawn-colored streaks, the qilin asserting its dominance over her figure.
you can't choose what stays
and what fades away
and what fades away
