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01-12-2016, 01:42 PM
A creature of lavender and ebony slunk from behind the Sentinel and immediately Rhiannon’s dual-toned eyes locked on the figure, assessing her, sizing her up, drinking her in… Oh, it had been so long since the brindled devil had seen another, especially another of her own kind, and so she stared unabashed and unashamed. That proud amethyst jewel adorned upon the stranger’s head, the alluring shimmer to her coat of black silk, the adornments of lavender stitching, the odd-curls of deep, rich purple that made up her mane and tail, pale lavender oculars… How fine. How exotic. How… Exquisite. What Rhiannon would give to try a taste of her. ’Are you in need of assistance?’ Oh, yes. Yes I am. The sound of her voice caused Rhiannon to quiver. By the Gods, had it truly been so long of solitary travel and thoughts that she found herself lusting after every female she happened across? Dark lips twisted upwards in a feral sort of smile, an expression of all teeth and pink gums, icy-silver and molten-gold eyes roaming the contours of the mare’s bodice, the curvature of her rump, admiring the dips and contours of her lithe body. She was shorter than Rhiannon herself, a favorite trait she looked for in an affair-mate, but that crown, and those eyes... Delicious. “The only assistance I require is a taste of you, my delicate chou,” Rhiannon purred, her tones sultry, an undertone of yearning coating her every word. “Just a quick sample of a foreign delicacy…” As much as she wouldn’t mind a quick fling here in the snow, the brindled devil shifted in her stance, dual-toned eyes taking brief notice of the black and purple mare’s leopard companion before redirecting her gaze to the horned female alone. There was only one companion she cared for, and Talbot was not here. Thought of her father’s Hellhound was enough to dampen the lust that Rhiannon had briefly felt, her heart clenching in a familiar pit of darkness and despair, and just as quickly as that feral, wild smile had come to her lips, it was gone, replaced by gnashing teeth and a bitter, loathing scowl. The brindled beast’s head lowered, proud horns set askew, and when she spoke her voice was rough, low, and full of gravel. “I am called Rhiannon, mare. I was birthed in these lands many seasons ago. It is my home.” Probably more-so than the beasts and creatures that called this frozen mountain top their home now. “I have served it as Weaver and Soldier alike, and I wish to return. Who is in charge now? Does His Lordship Deimos still rule these lands?” @Zandora |
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