The forest is wet and quiet, the fingers of the ferns crusted in ice. Her breath is visible, shining a gentle white beneath the shine of the moon. It's nearing midnight and Leera's bored of her bedrest and she's itching to speak with her closest link in Erövrare. The last time she'd seen the bronzed goddess was when Hannibal had brought her to these southern lands, but of course there had been no room for gossip. There's more than a lot to discuss, and she stops between the trees to tilt back her head, calling gently to Nephthys, wherever she might be. speech action

The forest was ancient. The trees thick and old, roots that were twisted. It might once have been filled with bird-song and animals that roamed. But now it was ages past its former glory. It's canopy was so dense that rgw bronzed Goddess could only see the occasional streak of moon light that rarely touched the forest floor. Yet even so, its thick vines were not able to take away the remnants of the Mother Winter power and cruelty it presented in the southern regions. She moved among the land with the grace of a fleeting swan. Cloaked in, not white, but a garb of earthy hues and russet, she looked like a consort of the sun. Muscles rippled beneath the sheer sepia, supple in curve and length, though strong enough to propel her forward, as soon as her regal audits came in collision with the familiar sonnates, at a coaxing speed. Her teacup paws spreading generously towards the source, ignoring the swelling of her abdominal region and the size of her ankles that began to double in size. Leera she purred, allowing the winter breeze to take her musical sonnates away, the same thick arabic accent leaving her ebon foreign-kissed lips. She tasted her name, playing with it upon her plush, coral tongue and it burnt like whisky. Leera, the ivory queen and, recently, her new and, some might say, only friend; whether this was true or not she could not say but she responded the call without a second thought. The other woman soon came into view, pace lessened into peaceful strides, as a smile creeped upon the bronzed Goddess pretty maw, tugging at its corner in order to desplay the fond affection upon seeing the woman. When you walk that walk. And you talk that talk.

Nephthys comes soon enough after her summoning, slinking through the thick shadows with a grace of her own. Even in pregnancy, the goddess moves with feline ease and fluidity -- perhaps this is what Leera enjoys most about watching her newest comerade. Her own belly is swollen with kids, more than three, Leera guesses, and she makes no effort to conceal what she carries but instead cocks her hip out, letting the dim moonlight spread over the revealing curve of her side. An uncharacteristic warmth spreads through Leera's body as her summoned approaches, mirroring her own small smile. Nephthys purrs her name into the frigid air, and she closes her eyes and dips her head in endearing greeting. "Flower," she says, quietly, tail swaying. "It's better we meet like this. The men here have disliking of women's assembly." If that's true, Leera doesn't know. But she's planning something, and she doesn't want Nephthys to be mixed up in it all if the others find out how close they are and that they speak regularly. "So packmates, now, you and I. Who would have dreamt?" Leera starts again, a grin forming. It sounds strange, packmates, like rain in summertime. But if it's Erövrare that binds them together in the end, then so be it. "Do tell, how is Erövrare treating you? Well, I hope. I believe we've got some catching up to do." Leera's itching to know whose planted those pups in Nephthys -- surely it's an Erövrarian, lest why is she here? She points her nose at the other woman's bulge, an expectant smile adorning her slick lips. speech action

Sn elegant if tall woman, she was slender and exceedingly tall, standing at 36". Her figure and poise spring royalty to mind, a modern marie antoinette if you may- her fur hangs longer than most, though not absurdly so, a noticable aspect would be her elongated braided tail and the massive sets of golden jewellery that spring their melodious tones like tiny bells hitting each other as she moves towards the source of her call, the ivory queen she had began to care for. Her darkened frame, a wisp on the winter wind, like spider tendrils, is made of warm hues despite her icy exterior. Brown, russets and gold coats her body. The tip of her mouth, sluy smirk, a elegant canine placed itself upon her bottom ebon lip as soon as the woman fondly called her nickname. Her optics were another reminder of her mother, fiery orange swimming in a pool of violet, they locked themself on the other woman as she drew closer, lessening her pace before coming to a full halt in front of the other. By the looks of it, I have been missed, love. she purred slowly, melodious tones escaping her succulent maw; digging her crown slightly she responded to the greeting by mirroring it. Yet as she did so the moon light feel wonderfully upon the other exposed underbelly and what she found there was nothing but a miracle. A surprised expression danced upon her beautiul visage only by mere seconds, You have been busy. I see congratulations are in order. she maintained her gaze thought the tip of her tail flicked not with irritation but curiosity; sometimes the damn thing had a mind of its own. We seem to find ourselves in yet another patriarchal culture. she spoke softly, her voice alone nothing bunt honey, comforting as she rolled her hips in order to sit down. All the walking towards the call made her ankles swollen some more. When we first met it would've been our worst nigtmare. she offered a chuckle to her own statement, amusament blossomed within heri gaze as it slowly began to melt the icy exterior. That we do, eh luv. another smirk tugged at the corned of her full, ebon lips, making a point to gesture between their exposed, swollen bellies. Who's the baby daddy? When you walk that walk. And you talk that talk.

At ease with her current company, Leera settles onto the snow-crusted ground and stretches her petite limbs out before her. Carrying the added weight of her litter has been hell for her small bones, especially her ankles, and the expecting mother takes advantage of any time she's able to be off her paws. "Lie down," she cooes to the other woman between congratulations, nodding to Nephthys' swollen ankles. Leera listens to her friend's words about their current situation, nodding along. Yes, they've found themselves in the grip of a patriarchal society, but it won't be for long -- not if Leera can help it. There's disdain on her face for a moment but she folds into Nephthys' chuckling, eyes glimmering at the thought of their first rivaled encounter. "Who's the baby daddy?" Leera chuckles again, the warmth of her breath turning to fog in the night air. "I could ask you just the same," she murmurs warmly, casting Nephthys an expectant glance. But she's not afraid to name the seed she's taken -- she's proud of her accomplishment of seducing Erövrare's emperor. "I've taken the High Lord's seed," she says after a moment, watching Nephthys with a grin. She sighs with content, stretching out even further and curling her long tail around her. "He's an impatient bastard but he is king; I have a thing for kings, I suppose. Now spill."

A womb is the first throne of kings. Came the lethal purr of the soon to be mother. Her autumn legs crossed one another in practiced grace as she easily followed the ashen queen advice and laid on the ivory blanket of frost. The movement she made was oddly feline, like a panther stalking her prey; her frame thin and supple, curvaceous even, only her abdomina region was bordering all the fat with her litter of spawns soon to arrive. Gods tried to test her will, breaking her wicked mind in the presence of the dear woman, yet she had emerged victorious. She was worm by Hannibal spawns but she still carried herself with such elegance that even her bones seemed to glide against one another. The abyss of her eyes lingered on Leera still with sympathy but now with better understanding. The High Lord did not leave much on her mind though the bronze Goddess sensed something dark in the man. How his rulling would manifest upon her stay in his Empire would only be seen with time. A warm chuckle erupted from the babe throat, honey embraced each of her melodious vocals in its dulcet tendrils, You will always remain a power hungry bitch. she purred sweetly, no malice was present in her words as she offered another chuckle to embrace the winter air, creating small bits of fog due the her own breath warmth. Hannibal Iber Klein seed resides within me and I am close to deliver his spawns. her weight would shift in order to allow her elongated, bushy tail to wrap around the two of them, a comforting attempt to offer some warmth, hoping the woman would welcome the gesture. If yours is a impatient bastard then mine is a pompous prick. a smirk tugged at the corner of her full, ebon lips; fire, spark and gasoline, all three of them were present within the autumn vixen gaze as she watched the ashen woman with interest, mischevious intentions clearly painted upon her face. When you walk that walk. And you talk that talk.

Leera welcomes the warmth of the femme's tail, cuddling into the plush fur to shield her small frame from the midnight chill. Pressed against Nephthys, she can feel the plumpness of her pregnancy, and she doesn't doubt the woman is wrong when she is told that delivery is coming soon. "Klein isn't that bad," she jokes gently, but then again, she isn't entirely sure about the nature of their relationship. "Is he?" Hannibal hadn't stiked her as a pompous prick -- but she also hadn't been knocked up by him. "Ah. And you have my best wishes for the children, flower. I have no doubt they'll bring you honor." There's anticipation in Leera's expression as she watches her best friend, tail flicking gingerly underneath the blanket that is Nephthys. What will the little beasts look like, she wonders briefly. Hannibal is a mismatched beast and Nephthys a complete jewel -- Leera inwardly hopes the children will be so lucky to inherit their mother's share when it comes to appearances. "But this is your first litter and giving birth will not be easy. Mine wasn't. Let me help you deliver them safely, flower. I can collect herbs for the pain, as well." She hopes she isn't out of line asking to assist, or that Nephthys will think she's suggesting she's weak. But if there's one thing Leera knows well, it's pregnancy. And if she could have had someone help her through her first time, thing's would have gone smoother.

It was the autumn woman’s greatest accomplishment to birth and raise her children to become Kings and Queens. Nothing would ever amount to the pride and love and fear she had for them the very day she realized she was pregnant with her first litter. They will forever be her most treasured accomplishment yet she cannot deny the fact that she did in fact wanted to get rid of the devil spawns due to fear and she almost took the actions. But a coward is something she cannot be labeld and by the grace of the Gods above she is taking this pregnancy to fruition.  He seems genuienly interested in the devil spawns I am carrying. she spoken softly, barely above a whisper but it was enough for the other woman to hear due to their closeness. We are nothing but pawns for one another, it is not about love, Leera, it is about lust. I will be using him and he will do the same. the woman nodded with a all knowing smirk painted on her ebon, full lips. Is the High Lord treating you well, love? she questioned, her gaze would linger just a bit longer over the horizon before it shifted to lock it on the ivory queens own magenta hues. The bronze Goddess observed the man during her joining but she refrained to jump to any conclusions fore asumptions can and will always be dangerous. May yours do the same, love. another ghost of a smile crossed her beautiful visage yet and the ivory queen next question it vanished completely without a sight leaving nothing but a expresionless facade. She pondered for a moment her question, registered it, digested it. She knew the answer, of course, it also crossed her mind several times since her joining but she was surprised by the way this woman in front of her managed to mean so much to her in such a small amount of time. Just you and Hannibal, that is all I need. her smile returned in its full glory. Do we have any Healers presents in the packlands? she questioned the other as she seemed to have been here longer than her. We should be examined. I only got a brief examination in Abaven. When you walk that walk. And you talk that talk.

Pawns. Leera nods, folding her ears back. Of course Nephthys is using Hannibal as a pawn, and Hannibal using her -- isn't everybody using someone? Such is life, Leera knows, a mere game where there are winners and there are losers and Leera never lost. The bronze queen raises another question and Leera thinks for a moment, dragging her tongue across her teeth, picturing the sleight-hued father of her incubating litter. He is stoic and impatient and cold, but his blood runs with power and that is all that really matters to Leera. Like Nephthys, her relationship has nothing to do with love either. Only power moves. "Tyranis is a preoccupied king; we do not speak much but I do not need words. Words are useless." What she needs is power. Leera stretches her paws out, basking in the warmth of the goddess' plush cinnamon fur. She grooms the woman's fur, if she'll accept, combing out the fine hair with her tongue. "I haven't seen a healer if there is one. But if there isn't, do not worry. I have delivered pups before and know some herbs that can help with the pain." She closes her eyes as she grooms Nephthys, ears laid back and completely relaxed. An ear flicks when the other mentions examination. "Abaven. Hm. And you trust them? I wouldn't let another pack close to my womb -- after all, it'll be their children against ours when the next wartimes come." Perhaps Leera is just paranoid, but just the same it was her old pack's custom to seek out and murder the newborns from rival groups.

Crown tilted but it didn't fall. Cinnamon brow ascended into a higher position as she watched the ashen woman with increasing interest, offering a nod. She admited that the High Lord must be busy, running a Kingdom, but she was certain Leera was also well taken care of. If not by Tyranis than by herself. Leera takes care of Leera. It is not about love for you either. melodious tones hit the breeze, harmonious, dipped in the dulcet honey of foreign allure. She leaned in closer to the ashen female, if accepted, she would gently start to groom the woman fur around her shoulder with her incisors, smoothly, as to not bother their current conversation. I have no doubt you will be there when the time comes. I trust you. she surprised even herself with her last sentence but she decided to let it remain as it was. A sentence, a statement of their relationship. They started as rivals and look at them now, two dames, back to back, grooming and welcoming each other warmth. Two dragon ladies that found friendship in their rivalry. Her smirk broke the surface once more. But she knew it was better play these things coy. But oh, it was hard to resist the temptation of dangling the bait just out of the crocodile's reach. Her face remained passive as she watched the other draw closer, finding the warmth as comfortable as she did. She made no efforts to pull away and make any motion as she continued her gentle ministration. The babe found no discomfort in touching another, it was just something natural. Natural desires that needed to be fulfilled. So there she remained waiting, watching. How is he? in bed , gentle was her voice as it came out as a coo. Feigning innocence as the devilish smirk finally started to paint her beautiful, exotic visage. How was the night with him? When you walk that walk. And you talk that talk.

No, it is not about love -- anyone can see it. Leera gives a shake of the head to confirm her friend's assumption, but there is no sadness in it. The exchange that is shared between herself and the High Lord is a matter of business only, it is the same as if she had chosen to rent out the space in her uterus in return for something else. To Leera, it isn't sad. It isn't even upsetting. It's the way life works and she'll fuck a hundred kings if it means she'll taste the steps to the throne. Leera assumes it's much the same to Nephthys. Her best friend's next prying question is one that makes her lips curl up in mischeiviousness. Glittering pink eyes shoot a devilish glance to the woman as she leans closer, as if she is telling the secrets of the kingdom itself. "He's not bad," she starts, the end of her feline tail twitching. "But he's nothing to write home about. It took two nights to concieve -- he blamed it on my age and I blamed it on his seed going bad." She snickers into Nephthys' ginger fur. Being somewhat of a temptress herself, Leera knows her way around a man's bed, but sex isn't something she speaks about regularly. What is hidden is often times more rewarding when the time comes for it to be revealed. She snickers again, this time somehow more to herself, and stretches and leans back. "Tell me about Klein." Leera's dark, glistening lips remain pinned up in a laughing grin. speech action

Sinister lips twitched into a smug smile at the other woman's reasoning and she fell into a full on chuckle, following her dearest friend melodious tones. Perverts with angelic faces, both of them. Strong heathens chiseled by fire and here they were, womanly and..open. I reckon I can do better than him. hony tones wraped in smug and acute joy. Perhaps even some mocking on the part of their High Lord but all in good fun. After all, she did posses both sexes, both genitalias and both functioning to a degree. Ah, of course the ivory queen would be just as curious as the babe was, after all, they were borth sultry and vampiric beings, sensual monstrosities. The cinnamon Goddess like the think that she knew the devil himself. And in some form or fashion she did. She was a very devout lady, and her loyalty was something to be prized. I planted the spider webs within his mind and made him work for it. She finished with a wicked shrug. Amusament filled gaze locked on the ashen woman. While, I am Hell's finest - it's poetry is carved in my very flesh. It is silly to assume that you can walk up to the finest and just get what you seek. You must earn it, you must deserve it. Tone was condescending and she once again let a cruel smirk grace her heavenly lips and her divine hips shifted. Sensuality, sexuality was emitting from the babe pores, every single movement screaming allurement and sophistication. And deserve he did. another fit of chuckles arose from the bottom of her throat at the memory of their mind games and then the desperate act of her heat. Well endowed, dare I say. a wink was sent into the other direction as she straightened herself in order to show her the size using her teacups paws. Huge. When you walk that walk. And you talk that talk.

"I reckon I can do better than him." Dark lips twist into a smirk, eyebrows flicking up in challenge -- can you? Leera has always been aware of her friend's strange genetalia quirk, and it has always intrigued her, but she's never commented about it. So, what, she has a dick. There are odder things in life. But even still, the cream woman can't help but to ponder what it'd be like... Leera watches the other closely, sparkling fuschia eyes fixated on those purplish orbs, tail flickering with interest, hunger, expectancy. Every word of gossip feeds her, and with Nephthys' size description she burst out in a laugh, something she hasn't done for seasons. "You snake! Selfish, aren't you? Mm, as you should be." Leera giggles, a rattling snicker that rolls from her tongue. She presses her face against Nephthys', closing her eyes with mirth. "Well, not all of us can be as lucky as you, flower. I seem to have drawn the... short end of the stick." The darkness of night drapes the two wolves as the converse, and as the minutes pass Leera grows quieter and quieter, but not for lack of things to say -- she is enjoying their little gossip session and could go on for hours. But, alas, sleep is finding her, and the lithe babe nestles into the warm, brown fur of Nephthys. The breathing of her friend and her own heartbeat are enough to take her into dreamscape. -exit via sleep- speech action

Ebon, full lips peeled back to reveal pale incisours, murderous in their wake, a striking cobra; danger was iminent in their lives, they were alike in many way and they knew better than to place their trust in another and yet here they were, two rivals, two friends, sharing the second most intimate aspect of their lives. Similar situation happened before and the brone babe would not be able to forget the moment she broke down before the ashen queen and she was there for her, she was there and something told her she shall remain by her side yet time will tell if such assumption is true. The cinnamon vixen joined with a laughter oh her own, soft as summer rain, melodious as they created a close to perfect harmony within their emotional vocalization of entertainment. All she could do was to shake her regalia at the other short stick comment and as the hours passed by the conversation was slowly dying, turning quieter by each minute. It was time to call it a night. The bronze Goddess shifter her weight, wrapping her elongated, luxurious tail tighter around their bodies and laid her regalian on top of her teacup paws as sleep soon followed. exitus via sleep When you walk that walk. And you talk that talk.