Pack Meeting

A dapper villain in a sunday serial.How beautiful a woman. How deliciously well-crafted, and put together she is. Long legs run for eternity, and for eternity a man’s mind wanders – curious at the creature thrust before him, curious what precisely lies between those sensual thighs. And if such a man tried to act upon his most desirous of lusts? To soil the virgin lily with his filthy thoughts and perverse actions? A sliced throat and most unceremonious of deaths; this snake has a sleek power that her victims never have the chance to see. The ivory maiden seemed entertained by the idea of Ayame's desperate grasp for boredom. It was an effort done completely in vain, but at least it was in earnest. The woman was someone who had something she wanted hidden from the world, and Alice happened to be in the business of unearthing secrets. Her roseate eyes watched as her ebon lips curl backward, revealing a complete set of canines trailing Ksiezyc side. Another laugh fell from her, rubbing her ivory fur against his mixing it together yet again as if reminding him she was not the target tonight. And what is it you know about me, future Queen-ie? The siren looked at the woman, pursing her lips together in quiet contemplation before speaking of the woman that was in front of her. "You try desperately hard to hide your humanity. rather a pity if you ask me." a pity why, she did not elaborate, and would not elaborate. perhaps she could guess for herself. "you are a girl, perhaps quite like any other young girl. But then trouble arose, Perhaps daddy already took care of them? " of course she would let all her problems on her father's shoulder, as she said some time ago 'if you touch a fur of mine daddy will take care of it'.

The woman nosed towards Ayame's jaw, a gentle touch. "This will change you. Make you weaker until you won't be able to stay on your own four two leg. But perhaps it will not completely twist you - You are not like the Valentine's wolves, The kingdom was named in disgust." Alice easily throwing out her disrespect of the place. The pure mistress sat herself down on the side of her haunches in a feminine manner as her pyramidal perfectly lined ears perked high makeing her arouseing gaze even more intense as any man who would only glance at her fine defined curves would want to devour every being of her soul, but then again, what soul? This woman was built from rock, only infested with a malicious being as darkness wraped it's hands around her, protecting her somehow as it was her only isolation from those idiots. The colorless siren flatted her ebon eyelashes seductivly glareing at the woman waiting for a sign of reply from her.

The siren that sat opposite was somewhat like her, she seemed eager to play, but yet Alicey sat her cards right. Obviously eager to show that she knew how to play this particular game. However, the feelings that she expressed were palpable to the maiden. Her orbs were vivid and laced with memories of her parents, before the merle beauty curled her fluffy unusually unique longer tail up her slender spine as her fur lingers down her well defined curved makeing her appetizing. It was clear that the lesson that Alice had afforded the pup had somehow pleased her. Arrogance was one hell of a weakness. Brilliant eyes examined the one that sat before her, dressed in the robes of an upper rank, for she was merley a pup, hiding the knife of an assassin. The pure mistress briefly wondered the imminent fate that lay down the road for the future monarch. Would she see her own blood pool about her? The Blanid would have to practice her surprise. I want us to be powerful, but discrete. She would let Ayame have her little coup d'etat, afford her any resources she desired. But if things seemed to go south, Alice had no problem burning their 'friendhip' to dust and ash. There was no honor among aroggant wolves who hide themselves behind their rank, I am no queen. The woman was entertained by Ayame's play, as the words rung like church bells inside her mind. "Cute, thinking you're trying to appear so high. I think we both know otherwise. but if you truly do not think so, then perhaps I sit here wasting my time." her words were curt, the idea of playing coy did not lie within her cards. "I think you could use my tehniques. But if i were to teach you, what would I get in return?"

A smirk would cross on the pure mistress pretty maw as she rolled her tiara letting a little moan to escape her maw before the whelp spoke. Ah, maybe those words would offend her couple of months ago but now, now, they were music to her ears. Thinking that this little mutt would hold such jealousy was quite remarkable but yet amusing at the same time. A Whore who only want Omega's? Ha. She should knew better that since the nymph arrived here she only slept with Royalities such as Kings. And they were only two, Electro and now Ksiezyc. She was a gambler, a woman of risks, of course it bring her pleasure to play with the other man's in the pack and to lure them in, begging her on their knees to touch them but she never did, she loved to let them down into dust only dreaming about her touch. "Please continue, you're a hilarious little clown, aren't you.?" her tone was gently, as soft as baby rabbit's fur and as silk as a river under the moonlight touch, she would flatter her ebon eyelashes carefully watching the ignorant fool who dared to insult her teoretically 'step-mother' since she was already impregnant with the next Smierc generations.

Tail flicked as she continue to hear the so called offended words comeing from the runt mouth. Oh, she could handle that herself, after these pups were safely out into the world, she would have her head on a silver platter. However the mistress longed to taste the wench's blood herself. She gave a nod to Timber knowing probably he is on her side aswell, and flashed him a smirk. "Oh, how wonderul." she spat harshly. Loving the idea of ripping into her flesh and tainting her own white coat. Longing actually to teach her a lesson about the words she should speak and words she should not. She was an idiot, truly she was if she though those words would bring her any other feeling then pity, pity over the small creature who though she is 'ruleing' the place now that her father was here. But she will prove her wrong, her pups will become the next heirs and she can promise her that.

She bathes in pure sensuality, engulfed by the very hunger of her lust as she waltzes upon the land, untouchable, a ghost of perdition. Upon languid limbs rests the slender machinery of the fatal belladonna, its curves so ravishingly sculpted upon bone and velvet, her frame whole graced in faux delicacy however her power hides in secrecy, unimaginable, its pulsating desires hidden within the limits of her blooming breast as she slithers. She is sexuality, her magnitude not that of a massive gladiator, but more of a swift athlete, unstoppable in endless rivulets of sheer endurance, trapped within the average tallness her genes had seemed to steal from the bowels of her very mother as the macabre flower grew into nothing but a woman. And she is hidden -- she remains unseen. Bathed in plush tendrils of pure luxury, her bodice remains enveloped, the delicate tracery of her flesh so gloriously concealed beneath a cape of the richest of charredies, whose clarity envelops the sinewy elongation of her legs and inner concavities, if only to find corruption upon the cascade of her spine, where dim hues, diluted in the toxicity of desaturated, bring the night to her svelte frame. And upon the ebon mask of the lady emerges the gleaming liquidity of her very sight, so calculating and cold, embellished under a cape of azure, the penetrating stare of ocean itself. She is ice. A glacial kiss of death, the silken caress of snow she would be much too keen to deny. Sitting upon the rotten throne of scorn, the belladonna's mortal flesh remains a shield, denial, a glacial mask of not lies but protection, whose true face remains hidden beneath the gelid cape of calculation, meanwhile she lies warm in her very fire as only those whose soul is truly cherished are allowed to trespass the borders of her natural impassiveness. A queen of ice she was birthed, molded from the lungs of those of pure royalty, and the crown remains within her very skull as tall and proud as it had ever been sculpted. The siren, born to be pampered and cherished, under the rule of those whose feral calculation would create her, was no mere child. Her very first steps augured the future that was to come, and albeit like a treasure she was held within those of her kin she would also face the calamities of those whose power, and honor, would be their demise. Cultivated to become the sheer image of those that came before her, and within their hands of silent cruelty, she thrived, blooming into the fatal femme whose mind, barren and cold as ice, would lie to those that would come to meet her. In silence, she would converse – and within the depths of her gelid spirit, would remain the withering heart, the hidden closet no one – not even her – would truly see. A lie.And yet in truth, she is nothing but fire. A calamity -- the daughter of demons and chaos. Lust becomes the escape of her soul's sins as she craves for carnality, such enticing toxicity not only wrapped in the flesh of a mere lover, but also written in her desires to possess, to own as her cherished materiality and never, never let go. She is a rock, primal, a gargoyle whose callous canines and talons remain pressed against the heart of the fleshed victim until there is no more. No regrets, and no mistakes are allowed for her sight to contemplate, for all she accepts is perfection, and perfection she shall obtain. But the fatal dame is not cruel, and she, she adores. She adores her very flesh, the rippling rivulets of her very vitae running within the tracery of her family's entrails, the consummation of her origins gifted to the tall form[85cm] of her very offspring. And she adores the devoted, the only one who could make her breathe the very same fire she so passionately hides.

Words would slip from the charred brute's maw, such syllables pronounced something the banshee would study in carefulness, her ivory mask tense as it always were, attentive and yet patient in the silence of her stance. however, unlike her mother sudden appearance, these words of his would cause no further turmoil for the dame to swallow; it would seem like his intentions were those to join them in their activities, and even if they were not, they would not awake further sign of suspiciousness to flood the countess's features. Her gelid orbs bright as they would pivot within their darkened sockets, if only to gaze at her beloved mother "Welcome back, Mother." the dim, sculpted crown would dip ever so lightly, the corner of her darkened lips curled however briefly, before one last gaze of politeness was sent to meet her origins. And it was then that it would fly again, her mind so frantic, so thirsty, to know what happened with her father that were not to be anymore, even if it was only their façade what she would swallow until the time came, when words could be truly exchanged. Soon would her gaze follow that of the merle sovereign, and locked would be her mind within the form of the silent titan, yet another one of Ksiezyc's followers, it would seem.

Swivel would her twin ears upon the crown of ivory, as the new tones of the king would caress them, she sat down on the side of her haunches in a feminine manner as her ebon eyelashes flatter, she knew no crown would rest upon her muzzle, not until she, herself, had earned such a thing - and oh, how willing was she. As so she would listen, such darkened thoughts clouded beneath the ice of her stare, as her form would shift upon the ground.

The woman continued to watch closer, keeping a mild-mannered distance between them, the length of a body but otherwise circling around to her flank. Azure eyes flicked calmly across her, a flash appraisal before speech followed. "Darkest Greetings, mi amore." Words so sweet, so soft, so poisoned by the hollow injection of kindness. The sleek oil spill of obsidian lips pulled a fraction wider, more noticeably identifiable as a smile. She'd have to practice a rare virtue - self restraint, but was curious about how well she could curb her canines based simply upon a shared scent.

She needed to gather more recruits for the army. The likely punishment to result if she failed was hardly a deterrent, but the woman would view the situation as a self imposed challenge. As she walked around the others flank, the fluid roll of shoulders became more exaggerated, ensuring that they covered her throat more carefully with each step, and gait shortening to keep her weight better stabilized. The gladiatrix would sat down next to her daughter rubbing her leather snout on her ivory tiara in sign of comfort.