So you're what all the fuss is about

Absinth felt the intensity of Ember's desire through every touch and every kiss, each moment feeding her own voracious appetite. Ember's reactions were a symphony of raw passion, a delicious testament to the awakening that Absinth had sparked within her. The younger fae’s eager acceptance of her advances and the way she surrendered to her every move were intoxicating, fueling Absinth's feral delight. As their lips parted, Absinth relished the taste of Ember's skin, the way her body responded with shivers and gasps. She knew exactly how to draw out those reactions, how to push Ember to the brink of ecstasy. Each kiss and caress was a calculated assault on her senses, a methodical unraveling of her composure. Ember's willingness to expose her neck, that vulnerable spot, spoke volumes about her trust and desire. It was a gesture that Absinth found both thrilling and endearing.

But the moment of intimacy had to be put aside for now. The challenge was issued, and Absinth felt a surge of excitement at the prospect of their impending battle. She watched as Ember discarded her cloak and sword, her gaze lingering on the younger fae's form with undisguised hunger. Ember's confidence and the fire in her eyes were captivating, and Absinth couldn't wait to see her in action. “Lucky indeed~ I got the sexy little Princess~” Absinth murmured, her voice a low, seductive growl. She tensed, muscles coiling in preparation for the clash. The snow around them seemed to hold its breath, the world narrowing down to just the two of them. Charcoal tail lashing behind her, like a black sail in an ocean of snow white.

Ember's charge was swift and precise, a blur of motion as she darted towards Absinth. The monochrome fae met her with equal ferocity, their bodies colliding in a tangle of claws and teeth. Absinth felt the sting of Ember's bite at her nape, the sharp pain igniting her own predatory instincts as she took the full impact of the younger fae's attack. She retaliated with a snarl, her claws attempting to rake across Ember's chest, her teeth seeking the girl’s own nape to throw her to the ground with her own weight. The snow flew around them in a flurry as they grappled, each seeking an advantage. Absinth marveled at Ember's agility and speed, the way she moved with a grace that belied her fierce determination. Every strike, every counter, was a testament to her training and her will to win. Absinth's own movements were fluid and powerful, each motion a blend of raw strength and calculated precision. She could feel sharp claws in her chest, like a feline, but she was true to her style of battle; she refused to feel or react to pain at all.



"Absinth Artemisia Inferos"