IMAGINE LIVING LIKE A KING SOMEDAY
07-01-2013, 09:16 PM
A grey boy with black speckles on his legs, a crooken grin, a sharp pull at the scruff of her neck, three crooked grins, a lifeless lump of beautiful russet flesh and fur. She saw glimpses of these things, flashing through her mind as she made sure to make a swift exit of the battlegrounds. Medusa was no fool; the Amenti loyalists would eat her alive if she gave them much reason to do so. Staying around after defeating their Alpha, thus rubbing her victory in their faces? That would be foolish. Keeping them in a pride to rip her throat out? Even more so. No, it was best to give them space, to give them time, to be reasonable. There was no going back on what she had done (not that she wanted to at any rate), and there were no circumstances that would sate the goliath?s army. All the serpent Queen could do was be as reasonable as possible, and prepare. Medusa did not enjoy being a fucking gimp; she liked moving with grace and fluidity, hips swaying proudly and body oozing seduction. Now she bled from her wounds, and weight was a burden her left front leg simply protested against receiving. Being a gimp was not hot, at least not in her world of vanity, and she found it most problematic. For one, she could not make the swift retreat to Ludicael that she wished. She could not bury herself amongst Jupiter?s scent, and delude herself into believing that the Ludicael alpha was there. She could not press herself into the familiarity, and simply sink into a pleasant oblivion where all had gone well. She was easy to catch up to, easy to follow. Medusa did not fear those who might follow her; fear was for those who valued life. No, the serpent held no worth in these things, instead treasuring attention and emotions and a certain russet-pelted woman. These built her world, but she did not cling to the very thing that provided her such luxuries. Medusa was not a woman who enjoyed life, but not in morbidly somber way. Life was just a happening, nothing that she held great affection for. The sound of a voice made her turn, bi-colored eyes devouring the appearance of a snow white angel. Her lips turned up into a grin, for even though she was battered and bloodied, she was never too fucked up to try to get into somebody?s pants. ?Yes, angel?? she asked, the tone of her voice sultry and teasing. Was this woman an angel? First appearances made it difficult to tell. ?Whatever can I do for you, lovely?? she inquired, making no secret of her eyes, the way they roamed over the other woman. Medusa was nothing if not a lecher, after all. |