nephthys
Breath pale against the numbing air, the danseur blinked thoughtfully as the snow that left Ashiel's fur patiently kissed her visage, captivated by the soft, dusty illusions of light that sat heavy on her long, black eyelashes acting like a veil. I did not expect to run into you, Ashiel. she purred, tea cup paws returning on the ground as she moved forward, mile-long legs closing the distance between them mimicing him. It seems to happen quite often. she accentuated the last word in a thick egyptian blanket as she lessened her pace in front of him. Raising and falling, her chest moving with each inhale of the numbing north air, taking in his scent, his cologne streaming of power, strenght and so potently male. What are you doing here? she questioned, raising her brow before a small, harmonious chuckle escaped her black, voluptous lips. Circling, prawling like a predator the danseur started to circle the youthful male; her hips, left and right, moving in a graceful swing, a tango, passionate, intimate, made to attract the eyes of the crowd. Pomegranate gaze never left the male, measuring him from head to two, observing every muscle rippling beneth his pelt and every fine hair thread he had to offer. Hair voluptous tail looked more like a foxs then a wolf but nevertheless, it swayed against his side in elegance, sharing the heat for a mere moment before allowing herself to come to a halt in semi-circle, behind him. Maybe you are the real stalker. she whispered under her breath before she sprung forward, front limbs stretched for balance and for a grip of the other man shoulder, a playful attempt at his balance in order to push him into the snow once again.
Hear my voice
come with me where the moon is made of gold
