'Kindness has nothing to do with it, sugarplum.'
Frey's voice is like a kaleidoscope of tones, not yet settling on any one wavelength just yet. On their back in a bough of a tree just above Maeve, the herald glances down with a coy stare in her direction. Naked, as they always are, the Madame will find that their body is in constant flux until it lands on the perfect combination of features that most aptly represent her sexual preferences and desires. A tall man with grey eyes and horns, perhaps? Their mere presence alone inspires feelings of lust in any who are near, and as their eyes rake over Maeve's naked body, the Madame will feel their gaze as if it's tangible.
Frey's voice is like a kaleidoscope of tones, not yet settling on any one wavelength just yet. On their back in a bough of a tree just above Maeve, the herald glances down with a coy stare in her direction. Naked, as they always are, the Madame will find that their body is in constant flux until it lands on the perfect combination of features that most aptly represent her sexual preferences and desires. A tall man with grey eyes and horns, perhaps? Their mere presence alone inspires feelings of lust in any who are near, and as their eyes rake over Maeve's naked body, the Madame will feel their gaze as if it's tangible.
