Dealing With the Devil

*Azalea* · 09-26-2013, 07:18 PM

His sickening delight at her outburst made her stomach turn and her ears fold as tightly to her skull as possible. Her stepped up to her, causing them to stand nose to nose. Azalea held her ground, eyes alight with fire as they met his cold pink tinted gaze. ?Oh don?t be so sure,? His words made her stomach drop.

She felt ill, physically and mentally ill. Her legs wanted to give out under her. His following words only made her head swirl as she realized that this had been a very very bad idea. Gideon was no good to Isardis. Winter was coming and with winter Azalea would be a healthy breeding age of two years. Now she was quivering, her body shaking like a leaf in the wind. ?Oh child, don't you know that a slave has no say in what becomes of her?? Sendoa's quip went with little notice.

Azalea had made herself clear, though. Gideon was to be released. Chryanthe would have her mate back, she would have clarity. A clear mind would be needed in battle. ?Darling you are too kind, to take the rabbit from our hands willingly; I do ever so thank you, and to think I had considered setting him free,? Her eyes, which had moved to Sendoa now that she stepped closer, cut sharply back to the lord.

"Liar!" Part of her shouted but another part of her wondered if he really was. He was a wicked character, twisting words and ideas. Azalea felt as if the air were being sucked out of her lungs. Had she really come here expecting to find wolves different than those she saw on the battlefield? These wolves were all demented, angry creatures. They ate happiness for breakfast.

All the fight left her, her form dropping. Tail lowered and eyes dimmed. She lowered her head to the king, eyes averting. Submitting to him as she mentally went into self destruct mode. Her breath came out heavy and fast.

Puppies?

Her stomach rolled and her eyes watered. Pregnant was a horrid thing to be and she could never imagine herself as a mother. Her belly growing round and heavy. Milk filling her underside like puss in a sour wound. Then came the children. Child birth was a nasty affair, your body reorganizing itself to push whelps into the world, their bodies enveloped in goop. It was then necessary to remove the goo by eating it. Right away the little life suckers bitch and whine, pulling at your teats and further wrecking your bodies as though the prior damage is not enough.

Mother nature was about the cruelest of all, convincing she-wolves to actually enjoy the process of birthing and raising children. Suddenly there was an image of it, Azalea could see it now. Faceless children running about, making her heart weep with worry. She could never love them, though, bastard children of a process she would have avoided if not forced to comply.

In Azalea's mind, this was the end.

Speech,

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