Zandora

Yes, dear, I'm smiling
Inside I'm dying

She had not expected to lose his ears in the onyx mass of his mane. She did not think that Panzram wouldn't be excited by her entrance, their reuniting. After all, Zandora was the one who did not disappear, she stayed in the Basin, did her job, and had fun with the life that he had introduced her to. She wasn't aware why the stallion reacted so viciously towards her, what had she done to deserve such treatment? Her loyalty to him was still the there, still existing, but he had never called upon her, quite frankly Zandora figured he had just left, like so many these days. Had he wished for some sort of restrictions on where she could point her ass, and to who she pointed it towards, the vixen draped in black would've never agreed. She was a fire, hot, wild, and uncontainable. 

Her own ears fell away to his snapping, the blunt daggers whipping out with an anger that she could not understand. The strands of his tangled tail stung her bodice, her eyes narrowing at such an act. Something stirred within her bones, a fury that had lain dormant for much too long, gathering and collecting into a mass of hazardous material. Swallowing it away, she merely arched her brow at is questioning. Zandora had seen much worse then a he could ever show her, his venomous strikes doing little but to show how much of a grump he was. Although, she did admit that she could feel his testing, fiery eyes boring within her own to see if she was worth their agreement what seemed like decades ago. It did make her think twice, she did not want to look like a fool in the eyes of the beast, but rather wanted to show exactly what she was capable of.


"What do I want?" She breathed, looking into his eyes then. She held no fear, did not run underneath the threats of his teeth, the lethalness of his words, but rather she stood on her amethyst daggers with confidence. "Perhaps I want purpose, perhaps I want power, or even desire, to be craved. But I will never know what I want until it's sitting in front of me, and once I do realize such, there is no stopping me in my endeavors my dear. "  She paused, her next words risky. Zandora did not cower underneath the repercussions that they might bring, but she only wished if he did not want the same, that he would turn and leave. She did not, could not exist underneath his torture, when she already tortured herself, when her father did too. "Perhaps it is you that I want."  She searched for bitterness, amusement, anger in his eyes, at this point the fox did not know if she had outwitted the hound or left a trail to her destruction. Something inside her craved the touch of his whiskered muzzle, needing the pleasuring pain of his horn upon her arabian skin. Her thoughts drifted to dark places, places where they did not belong, but they entered nonetheless.

What are you doing Zandora?

"Talk?"

OCC: Well here it is! Not sure what I think about it, BUT HERE