Frey
"Now now kitten, what's all this about?" Frey's voice weaves through the jungle like a warm breeze. Heat and sensuality fill the air like poplar fluff after a stiff wind, and on it is a very particular pheromone. That of a female molten tiger in heat. From the depths of the trees comes a warm yowl, a sound which beckons something in the very marrow of our upset predator. A plea that suggests attending to her needs will be a much better use of their time.
Standing behind Phoebe, Frey casually strokes a hand through her golden hair. "Cats can be such fickle things. It's why I love them so." They muse with a heated smile, before disappearing into the mists created by Pim.
Standing behind Phoebe, Frey casually strokes a hand through her golden hair. "Cats can be such fickle things. It's why I love them so." They muse with a heated smile, before disappearing into the mists created by Pim.