07-06-2017, 04:27 AM
Wyrm is unpredictable. he moves and shifts with an ease that Epithet knows well and she would admit only to herself of his impressiveness. But when he becomes black like the gape of a dragon's mouth before the flame, lurching and pinning her, well...she is certainly displeased and does not shy from it.
The blue of her eyes melt to a deep red, her own body thickens beneath his heated breath, her own form growing to that of an inky black tiger, bathed in deep red stripes, jutting and jagged like wounds across her flesh. She stares from under him, allowing him to stand over her, they are both aware that she can change to something large, something more dangerous.
They both could.
They could be dangerous.
He slips from her like a spent man tired from lust. The woman rolls to her own haunches, the thick nails ripping the soil from beneath her. Burning red eyes slit as her own jowls slack to pant under the dying sun's gaze. The woman finds it odd that he is turned from her whilst spitting threats. His words of her 'rising to the occasion' are batted away. "Oh Wyrm." She uses his name in a slow purr, a small touch of a girlish smirk curling at the edges of her dark lips. Perhaps she was too calloused with the man.
Oh well.
His name is brushed off with the shrug of her red stitched shoulders as she rises from her haunches to take her full stance. She isn't sure what to say next so she stands with a slightly quirked brow.
'I'm sorry?' No, no. Because she wasn't. She debates on just walking away, to find another spot to watch the moon rise but instead stands there quietly as a sigh exhales from her lips. "Well...you bring it out in me." The words slice the air between then, sharp and glinting. She wouldn't apologize but she certainly would not take his disapproval and downright childishness. They were equals in this great land and she would not roll over for the man who thought himself greater than she. Fuck that.
The blue of her eyes melt to a deep red, her own body thickens beneath his heated breath, her own form growing to that of an inky black tiger, bathed in deep red stripes, jutting and jagged like wounds across her flesh. She stares from under him, allowing him to stand over her, they are both aware that she can change to something large, something more dangerous.
They both could.
They could be dangerous.
He slips from her like a spent man tired from lust. The woman rolls to her own haunches, the thick nails ripping the soil from beneath her. Burning red eyes slit as her own jowls slack to pant under the dying sun's gaze. The woman finds it odd that he is turned from her whilst spitting threats. His words of her 'rising to the occasion' are batted away. "Oh Wyrm." She uses his name in a slow purr, a small touch of a girlish smirk curling at the edges of her dark lips. Perhaps she was too calloused with the man.
Oh well.
His name is brushed off with the shrug of her red stitched shoulders as she rises from her haunches to take her full stance. She isn't sure what to say next so she stands with a slightly quirked brow.
'I'm sorry?' No, no. Because she wasn't. She debates on just walking away, to find another spot to watch the moon rise but instead stands there quietly as a sigh exhales from her lips. "Well...you bring it out in me." The words slice the air between then, sharp and glinting. She wouldn't apologize but she certainly would not take his disapproval and downright childishness. They were equals in this great land and she would not roll over for the man who thought himself greater than she. Fuck that.
Epithet