A Queen Ruling Over Wastelands

Think of the perfection of a winter rose, the soft touch of the petals. The sweet and intoxicating scent it gives off, the beauty of its color. Now think of Vivienné as that rose, she is just that. A delicate creature that looks like something that needs to be sheltered; needs to be saved from the dark world she is in but she is the thing you want to save everyone from. The siren has the body of a temptress, curved and shapes in jut the perfect places to make a man melt when laying their eyes on her. Her legs are long and delicate, covering in the soft white fur that wraps her whole body. With every step her hips rock from side to side though she moves towards the new territory Vimur overtook, prances really, to make it more tantalizing. Her long and rather fox like tail is curled over her back; think of a husky but without the tight curl. Now if you stop looking at her backside you will see that she is a streamline, thin woman. One made from more speed than power though the muscles are hidden all over this body. Her ears a slightly longer, fluff sprouting from the base like she had a bad hair day. Her cheekbones are high placed, making her smile see a little too wide yet angelic.

To say that he had been waiting for her reply to be like that would be largely inaccurate, given the way with which the stranger mostly ignored him but started to wheeze like a fish out of water. She spoke then, seeming to curse him in her foreign tongue, and Killian was no longer the suave gentleman leaping into the scene. The instant her barbed words left her lips, his fur bristled on ends, his ivories parted in hostility towards the new. But this hostility itself stopped in its path, for he sensed the sorrow within the other.

Incredulity coursed through the brute's veins, himself feeling the whole absurdness of the situation. Was she stark mad? He let forth a huff of contempt, lips curling up in disdain at the other, posture dominant and overbearing into her own. "Just like that.?" he questioned her with a menacing tone, dark lips still parted to display his gleaming fangs. For Ksiezyc would not stand nonsense, and could not fathom why the fuck Maria had to go with that Knight, putting herself in danger, had over-reacted.

Demeaning sneer would curl upon the lips of the handsome brute as he strutted into the area, paw steps deliberate, magenta hues bearing into his surroundings. Eyes would light up as he heard Maria's responses yet once again the infernal lord choosed nothing but silence, or should he have said questions.? A chortle would escape his lips, allowing her to move closer to him, as his salmon tongue would run up her cheekones as a gentelman showering his wife with kisses. Ksiezyc saw the beauty of his surroundings, but the rainbows did not send joy to his soul. Rather, the colours seemed too much, too much, for his soul to bear. Darkness, cunning, normality - these were what intrigued the brute, and were part of his comfort zone. Anything abnormal was struck off the list, and he wished that such a scene had never taken place to even attract his curiosity.

Coming to a stop beside one of the largest frost flowers in the vicinity, he crouched down and lay his cranium upon the cold ground, eyes trained upon each large petal. The ice crystals on this particular one was very sharp, as winter starts to show. Almost playfully, the brute let his salmon tongue sneak out to wrap around the elongated spikes. Such sharp, dangerous tools these were, he thought, gaining an idea for future use of this cruel winter to satisfy his sadistic possessive manners with Maria. The chill of the frost number his tongue, and as he withdrew his tongue, he tasted blood. Eyes lit up dangerously, and in an almost mad manner, the beast crooned to the flower. "You must like blood, don't you?" And then his temper split, and widening his jaws, he crunched down onto the entire flower, gums pierced mercilessly by the ice barbs on the flower, blood trickling down his muzzle, the pain forgotten in his anger at exacting revenge on this thing that had drawn his blood and was continuing to melt within his mouth even now. A low snarl ripped from his maw as he grappled with it in his mouth, not letting it go, crushing and destroying it within his cunning ivories.

Standing like a statue, nary a muscle moving save for the ends of his thick fur that danced with the chilly breeze, the brute continued to look at the other, more out of mute curiosity rather than a wish to bring about foolish harm. Ingrained in him was the lesson that the men were made to rule together, and women, to be the footstool upon which the likes out the males could be acted out upon without any questions. Chilly gaze never shifted as amber hues caught his own. The brute's ears tilted upwards and tail remained in unforgiving in stance to show his own dominance as well. Hierarchy was out of his mind. He was his own individual, and he ruled supreme over himself and his actions.

A smirk curled upon the edges of lips, magenta hues catching the sensual manner of which she moved. So confident and easily did she come, words purred out seductively, that he took more interest in her than he did with the other womans. In a single, powerful bound, the infernal lord leaped from where he had since been standing and moved towards her a bit more, gaze flickering to either faces with each deliberate step. Ivories parted and he licked his canines, not holding back his clear show of his appetite for something interesting to happen.

Within a few inches of either did he stop, ever so alert to his surroundings, notcing the soon-e-comeing sand storm. He listened to her word, before replying, his own deep vocals reverberating in the air with the chilly tinge that always made his words seem so beautifully barbed. "Indeed, we shall move towards Beinne. Also, ring that runt with you aswell." he replied obviously speaking about Timber, answering yet dismissing the question at the same time. Shifting his gaze to the woman, he let a brow raise in bemused response to her statement before for a moment before his mask snapped back into a cordial, yet near-emotionless facade. These from that pack where after all strangers, in a swift momentum the Lord rise on his full height, moveing his paws thunderously against the dry sandy terra heading towards the Beinne.

//Ksiezyc exitus//

TIMBER ;; KSIEZYC ;; MARIA : GAINS 50 EXP POINTS FOR COMPLTING A SMALL THREAD OF -10 POSTS.