She spends the last minutes of dawn being bitter, her petite body rigid beneath the light of fading stars, chocolate ears flattened against her head. For a moment, she considers leaving Boreas entirely; if this land can't bear the fruit she's after than certainly some other will. It is only a matter of finding it, a kingless kingdom waiting to recieve her, a mass worthy of raising her high as their alphess.
But before she uncurls herself and retreats back south, she scents a stranger in the mild air. At first, she's half-irritated. Her jaw sets and she narrows her small pink eyes, scouring the desert for the culprit. "Not used with the desert, jewel?" Leera merely watches her, the sharp angles of her face vacant as she lets her stare rove over the larger woman.
"Quite the contrary, my love," she crones after a long pause, but there's hardly any warmth in her tone. "I've seen far too much of it." Her words are even. Calculated. The end of her tail flicks impatiently, but the longer she stares at the woman before her, the more her annoyance fades. She's beautiful, admittedly, a languid temptress with bronzed skin and sparkling eyes. "But you... you're something different." An excited darkness flickers in her eyes. "Yes, I can tell merely by the way you hold yourself. These badlands are yours, aren't they?" Have the gods really graced her with the presence of an empress? Perhaps the west isn't that horrible, after all.
Leera is a mature character.
Force/violence is permitted within reason.
Plot with us here!
