A chill wind snaps at the ironheart's mane, twists her tail around her hocks, tickles her flesh and sends shivers down her spine. Snow falls in steady, lazy flakes to rest upon her back and head, melting when it comes into contact with her warm skin. The thick snow underfoot tugs at her legs as she walks, sucking at her underused muscles and dragging sweat across her neck and flanks despite the cold winter air.
For the General, being out of shape is a devilish curse. She thrives on activity, and prides herself on keeping at the peak of physical fitness. And, indeed, she is far from feeble, but nor is she at her optimum - childbirth can do that to a woman, especially a birth as traumatic as hers. Twins, she laments. Fucking twins. She loves them dearly, but they've knocked her body for six. The amount of blood she lost, the exhaustion that crippled her, the horrific things they must have done to her insides...it's little wonder it has taken months for her to get back on track. Sparring Rohan had been just the start of her long road back to warrior perfection. Fighting fitness is not the only thing she misses. It has been too long since she had the warmth of a man atop her, and being a full-time mother can certainly make a woman crave the attention of the opposite sex. Nyx appreciates the males of the species, and monogamy is not a concept she approves of or partakes in. She is half-tempted to hunt down the twins' sire for a quick booty call, but fights the temptation with considerable effort. Best not to seem too desperate or clingy, else her 'strong confident grey woman don't need no man' principles will take a beating. With a resigned sigh, the silver admits that there is little use dwelling on her...cravings. She has a rare free period of time away from her children, and intends to use is wisely. She will train, tone her body back up to what it is capable of, ready to resume her duties as General. So, with a huff of determination, she breaks into a high-stepping trot, revelling in the anguished screams of her muscles as they fight against the thick snow. |
@Reginald
Hidden Account atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7 |
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17.1 hh :: 3 HP: 64 | Buff: NOVICE |
Ka'Mate :: Harpy Eagle :: None & Ka'Ora :: Harpy Eagle :: None M.E. |
Lost who I want to be My serpent blood can strike so cold |
--Please tag REGINALD in every reply!
--All force is allowed to be used against this character!
Deceased atk: 7.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6.0 |
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 11 HP: 72 | Buff: SWIFT |
Dominus :: White Lion :: None Snow |
She smells man.
Her laboured trot slows to a walk and then a halt, her muscles groaning with relief as the stress and strain is mercifully snatched from them. She turns, her nostrils flaring to inhale the heady musk of stallion, whilst a short distance away Dominus - busily burrowing for voles as his bonded trains - gives a throaty growl of warning. Be silent, she commands the lion. For once in his obnoxious little life, he obeys. With a savage hiss, he stomps away through the snow, blending in almost perfectly with the ivory beneath his paws. On this rare occasion, his presence is not needed, and he is prone to jealousy when Nyx's attention wanders from him. Jealousy makes him stick his claws into things, and the silver can't have that, not when the meat approaching her could have so many more enjoyable uses. His absence leaves the ironheart free to turn, to observe the handsome stranger properly for the first time. He is young, that much is apparent through her experienced old eyes, but he is no boy. He is well-formed, powerfully built, and the ease with which he stampedes through the snow sends wicked shivers down her spine. The stallion's crest upon his neck shows that he's no posturing colt with naked thighs and ideas above his station - good, as boy-children are of no interest to her. His voice rasps through her body, vibrating down towards her loins, and she feels her features twist into a temptress' smirk. Her gaze is appreciative, and she makes no attempt to hide it. Oh, yes. Just what she needs - eye candy, and, even better, eye candy that looks like it has a purpose. She shouldn't look, she shouldn't be so open with her amorous gaze, but dammit, she's entitled to a bit of fun to snatch her away from the monotony of motherhood. "Ooh, lucky me," she says, her voice a husky purr. Getting her flirt on is nothing new to the silver, and everything from the audacious gleam in her eye right down to the coquettish tilt of a hindleg screams of a woman who knows what she wants, and revels in it. "But I bet you say that to all the girls, handsome. Who might you be?" And she tilts her horned head, fixing him with her lust-darkened gaze. |
@Reginald
Hidden Account atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7 |
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17.1 hh :: 3 HP: 64 | Buff: NOVICE |
Ka'Mate :: Harpy Eagle :: None & Ka'Ora :: Harpy Eagle :: None M.E. |
Lost who I want to be My serpent blood can strike so cold |
@Nyx
--Please tag REGINALD in every reply!
--All force is allowed to be used against this character!
Deceased atk: 7.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6.0 |
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 11 HP: 72 | Buff: SWIFT |
Dominus :: White Lion :: None Snow |
Even by her own standards, Nyx is being unusually brazen. Whilst she is a woman who knows what she wants, she rarely makes her desires so obvious. She can speak to men without wanting to climb them like trees, she can befriend without saucy undercurrents of desire, and she's quite capable of going without for long periods of time. If it happens, it happens - whilst she does not shy away from making the first move, she's rarely so open about what she wants. Nobody likes a slutty whorebag, after all. A subtle slutty whorebag, on the other hand, is just fine.
So she doesn't quite know what it is that's making her quite so flirtatious. Maybe it's the fact he's so devilishly handsome, and so obviously up for it that she recognises him as an ample opportunity, a kindred spirit. Maybe it's the chill in the air, or the fact she's not had a good hard pounding in far too long. Or maybe - and this notion is quickly crushed - it's because she has just finished her heat, and the aftereffects are lingering. Just finished is the optimum word, as she's 99.99999% sure there's no chance of pregnancy - nature would not be such a bitch as to allow her to get knocked up again when her milk is still drying from her last children. Well, maybe she's 99.99988% sure. That's still good enough odds for her to shunt the nasty little thought into the back of her mind and concentrate instead on the potential that lingers in this grey-stone beast. He's a silver-tongued womanizer, a loose-moraled casanova who undoubtedly has women fawning at his feathered feet, and for some mares that might be a turnoff, a deal-breaker that would bid their ears to pin and their hooves to kick. Those who hunt for monogamy, who demand faithfulness - prissy little asswipes, as Nyx likes to call them - would flee at the sight of this stallion, who probably can't even say monogamy let alone practice it. But not for the ironheart. For her, it's the most attractive thing in the world. A man who is free to be a man, not a faux-male gelded by his wife. "You know what they say, handsome - if you keep telling lies like that, your nose will grow. Maybe it already has...oh, wait! My mistake..." Her eyes glimmer with wicked fire, her gaze dribbling like liquid filth down his body, down, down. She gives a false, girlish gasp. "...that's not your nose." And she flashes him a wink. He moves past her, giving her plenty of chance to devour each salacious curve of his body, each devilish hunk of man-meat. He snorts, speaks again, and his evasiveness draws another smirk across the silver's refined features. "Boy? And here was me thinking I'd stumbled across a man." Her gaze darts pointedly down again, before returning to flicker across his face at his question. "Oh, nobody of importance. Just a poor, dreadfully lonely woman trapped in the frozen north, without even the warmth of a stallion to guard her against the chill." She steps closer, sending a cloud of snow away from her hooves; her tail arches, her neck with it, and she reaches up to whisper hot breath in his ear. "Alas, a boy cannot keep her warm. But, perhaps, if he could prove he was a man, if he could put her in her place..." She steps away, and as she withdraws she aims a sharp nip for his right shoulder; an invitation to dance. Ardour-addled she might be, but she has her policies - she will not be bedded without first being defeated. Only the strong are worthy to mount her, even if no child comes of it. Which it won't. Of course. |
OOC: Nyx's policy is for her menfolk to defeat her in battle before they do the diddly do, but after a post or two I'll have her submit ;D @Reginald
Hidden Account atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7 |
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17.1 hh :: 3 HP: 64 | Buff: NOVICE |
Ka'Mate :: Harpy Eagle :: None & Ka'Ora :: Harpy Eagle :: None M.E. |
Lost who I want to be My serpent blood can strike so cold |
@Nyx
--Please tag REGINALD in every reply!
--All force is allowed to be used against this character!
Deceased atk: 7.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6.0 |
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 11 HP: 72 | Buff: SWIFT |
Dominus :: White Lion :: None Snow |
Even his laugh is arousing, and the harlot's eyes darken as the sound vibrates through her body. Her tail swings, her muscles bunch, and her mind twists into a funnel to focus fully on the stranger as their dance commences. In the distance, where he's prowling fearsomely and helplessly, Dominus makes a valiant attempt to dissuade her from this course of action. "Not want more cubs." He doesn't understand the concept of fornication for pleasure, as he's a primitive creature in comparison to her and whilst he comprehends that sometimes she has womanly urges that he can't understand, he does not see the point of such elaborate courtship if no child is to come from it.
Bless his heart. The General blocks him out, ignores his warnings. She has other things on her mind. The stallion's ears pin, and the danger sends a thrilled shiver down her spine. She's killing two birds with one stone - training her body, and then satisfying it. Admittedly her policy to fight before she fucks can be a bit of an inconvenience, especially when her tingling skin is crying out for immediate release, but she's the mistress of self-control and understands the joy of delayed gratification. He crashes against her left side, sending her sprawling sideways and fighting for balance in the snow. He is far larger than her, brutish, but his weight is a blessed caress against her hungry flesh. She manages to keep her footing, throwing her legs wide and trying to ground herself so as not to tumble over. His teeth clamp behind her ears - and for a moment she idly thinks how similar he is to lions like Dominus, how both beasts hold their women down by their scruffs in an act of brutal dominance....or would, if there were any stunted lionesses for her companion to mount - and there is the temptation to simply submit so they can jump to the good bit. But she resists. She wants to see his strength, his rage, the primal passion that she knows he can summon. So she throws her neck downwards, straining uselessly against his vice-like grip, and aims an ungainly cow-kick to her left, trying to crunch her hind hooves into his right side. Not too hard - broken ribs might taint his prowess as a lover - but hopefully hard enough to let him know that he needs to redouble his force in order to make her bend to his will. |
@Reginald
Hidden Account atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7 |
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17.1 hh :: 3 HP: 64 | Buff: NOVICE |
Ka'Mate :: Harpy Eagle :: None & Ka'Ora :: Harpy Eagle :: None M.E. |
Lost who I want to be My serpent blood can strike so cold |
@Nyx
--Please tag REGINALD in every reply!
--All force is allowed to be used against this character!
Deceased atk: 7.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6.0 |
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 11 HP: 72 | Buff: SWIFT |
Dominus :: White Lion :: None Snow |
Her hoof thuds into its desired area, and the primal delight of battle floods through her. This is the euphoria she can only gain through two acts - fighting, and fucking. The possibility of both in one, glorious day...perhaps it had been worth wandering into the frigid north after all. He is a worthy opponent, one she would dearly love to tangle with on a proper battlefield, but there's that wicked little growl in the back of her mind that urges her to simply throw the fight and submit, so they can get to the good part.
She doesn't want to exhaust the poor lad, after all, not before he can satisfy her. The General returns her foot swiftly to the ground, although it slips teasingly on the snow as though taunting her with the possibility of falling over; his teeth release her, and the bruise where they rested is nothing compared to the aching loss she feels at their absence. His weight crunches against her side again, and her balance - compromised from the latter stages of her cow-kick - finally fails her completely. His teeth, peppering their hot, forceful kisses across wither, leg, knee, only add insult to injury as she feels herself falling. Ordinarily, tumbling during a battle would fill her with hateful rage, as it's a death knell in any fight; in this one, her stomach gives a sick little lurch of pleasure, knowing that he's defeated her. Knowing that she's his to do with as he pleases. Knowing that what he pleases will please her, too. Her leg pisses blood down its length, as the unfortunate angle of their tangle meant his teeth sunk unusually deep; the pain is delicious, and the snow turns a sickly pink. She manages to struggle back to all fours, but her head is hung in submission, her back hunched and defeated - in an ordinary fight, Nyx would still try to soldier on despite the ache in her knees and the humiliation of the fall, but this is no ordinary fight. This is a battle where losing is far, far better than winning. So she loses. She swings her haunches around, placing them square in front of them, tail flickering and inviting. She is his to feast upon, to ravage, to own. Her mind erects strong barriers to force aside Dominus' presence - he is still trying his level best to dissuade her, pointing out that this is not worth all the possible consequences, except he knows nothing, because it is. The poor, virgin predator cannot possibly understand the euphoria his bonded is about to experience, and selfishly, wickedly, she blocks him out so that he cannot share it with her. This is hers and hers alone...and the twisted-horned stranger, of course. The silver soldier stands still for her grey-eyed victor, and waits. |
@Reginald
Hidden Account atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7 |
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17.1 hh :: 3 HP: 64 | Buff: NOVICE |
Ka'Mate :: Harpy Eagle :: None & Ka'Ora :: Harpy Eagle :: None M.E. |
Lost who I want to be My serpent blood can strike so cold |
--Please tag REGINALD in every reply!
--All force is allowed to be used against this character!