The woman lets herself fall into an easy sit, deliciously sharp hips meeting the frosted earth. Her breath is still hot and quick in the air, but most of the adrenaline that had fueled her during the hunt has dwindled away. Ears fold against her head like resting butterflies; she listens with a grain of salt at what Nephthys retorts.
"Maybe not," she says between pants, voice airy, perfectly calculated. She sends her gaze over to the other beauty, the pink iris shimmering with intensity. "Maybe we are even the same, flower. But you are wrong about power and control." Her dark lips twist up at the corners, so slightly it could easily be overlooked, as if she has a secret that nobody else could ever know.
It seems, Leera muses inwardly, the cogs of her mind ticking, that they are but two wolves chasing after the same thing -- but the difference comes in the how."Power is not greed, it's honor. It's excellence. It's picking your way through the blood and the bone until you're sitting on top." Teeth glint as she smiles, secretively, halfway seductively. Her tail curls tightly around her paws and she dips her head to her comerade. "Either way, flower, I'd say we make one hell of a team."
Leera is a mature character.
Force/violence is permitted within reason.
Plot with us here!
