She kept her eyes fallen on the hulking corpse, tail hung against her rump. Her soft panting turned to frost in the winter air; the hunt had taken a bit of strength out of her. She stepped toward their prize and nosed her way into one of its wounds, gingerly picking at the stringy red meat.
As Leera ate, an ear turned back to catch her companion's words. "Don't be pompous," she muttered into the flesh, hair raising along her spine. Nephthys didn't truly believe she'd won this, did she? After all, who had pulled the beast to its knees? She laid her ears against her head and paused, looking at the other woman now.
"We both swing the sword and you call yourself champion," she sneered, a tendril of meat hanging from a canine. Fiery pink gaze was fixed on Nephthys. Sure, she was beautiful, but she was stupid. Stupid enough to believe in gods and their precious little childstory legacies. "You have some maturing to do, flower." Leera ran her tongue across her dark lips, tail curling as she lowered herself into a sit.
Leera is a mature character.
Force/violence is permitted within reason.
Plot with us here!
