Dealing With the Devil
09-21-2013, 07:05 PM
The swift bark of his Duchess would be enough to draw The Kings attentions to the scent of a near-stranger, the accompanied stench of Valhalla plentiful reason to initiate the rising of pale hackles, a threatening growl rumbling within his pipes as towers would flicker curiously. He could think of no other reason for the Valhallan?s to approach his kingdom unless it were to propose a challenge, or perhaps to beg their own suicide. And so he would launch from his hindquarters, coral stilts reaching out before him at a resolute lope, cherry nostrils quivering as anticipation would hum beneath his chest. Though the sight would be one of surprise, a red-faced girl that could near be mistakable for the magpie monarch, Chrysanthe, herself had it not been for the child?s obvious youth. He would slow upon the realisation of his crowded populace, content to have formed such a loyal army in such little time of his leadership, with their defence he could focus much further upon his brittle impressions. Lightly he would waltz to their confines, seamless strides imitating a lack of gravity as the angel would so pompously saunter, sweeping tail the only suggestion of his earth-bound qualities. His chassis would tremor with endless muse, smirk-stained orifice twitching with intensifying pleasure upon the realisation of the adorable situation. ?Ah, so she comes with wisdom; to toss her genetics amongst an already thriving pool? What a lovely decision my little dove,? he would pause as he brushed past the hips of Sendoa, ceasing half a body?s length in front of her, ?Such pretty little spawn you would bare.? |
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