the fever for this fame
Lorikeet
thinking "speech" "others" Without hesitation, the woman took the space freed up by his adjusted pose to snuggle in closer. Her alabaster toes slipped beneath his belly for warmth, and he let his own find their way into the space around her middle. There it was, the sluggish return of blood to his paws. The soft pressure of her jaw against the skin of his haunches, even buffered by their respective plush coats, was a balm on his sore craving for physicality. To say he was starved for physical affection since his sire's passing was an understatement. “Of course love, you share yours, and I share mine. The best way to make the world work.” her own lilting vocals lifted into a purr that gave his own a run for its money. The soft brush of her tail against his jaw and chin stirred up a contended rumble deep in his chest. "I'm Keetie." she added, and he found himself taking a moment to lose his train of thought in the depths of her two-toned gaze. "Mephistopheles," he responded in kind, rough vocals beginning to recover from the harsh conditions. He flashed the most charming grin he could muster, given the state of his face, whiskers still defrosting and skin numb. It was likely more lackluster than usual, but he hoped she would forgive the lapse in his usual charm. Within a few scant moments, his expression shifted to one of curiosity. Brow quirked in question, auds flickering her way. "tell me, what brings a lovely vision to this frigid wasteland? The current view notwithstanding, of course." his soft vocals shifted towards amusement, a light chuckle escaping him. He always felt plain in comparison to the local spirits, but he never let it show. After all, it wasn't like anyone could compare him to his brother and realize what they were missing. |
| Art by Monster |
