your love's a drag, but I need it so bad

 Her appetite was grim, perilous as she made her way towards the scent source – her viperous precession for sin, a hungering fixation for immortality through devouring those of her own ilk. She was unrelenting, vicious, mercilessly sadistic and destructive in her virulent whims. It did not took much for fiery orange lenses to wash upon the other; masculine, he was build like a rock, obsidian and strong. Her auditory system rotated towards his vocals; turns out this one will not be a problem but it is better to be safe than sorry. It is common during Winter, yes. her gaze studied him, registering each and every single muscle and hair thread he had to offer. Are you perhaps unfamiliar with Boreas, love? her sultry purrs were released from dark, succulent lips.  Sensuous was the bronze Goddess as she sat on her haunches with a roll of her curvaceous hips. She aged from her lithe whelpen bodice, as a yearling when she first arrived to Boreas, into that of a full-blown woman, every curve from the luscious grace of her tapered neck to the swaying hips of each wind-graced step. Her visage alone boasts an immortality to which time holds no candle -- from the long, eloquent cranium dipped in the earth and sand-kissed hue's of pomegranate lacquer to the embedded jewels of vivid orange bewitchment.

hear ye', hear ye'