Stand A Chance

The gentle rise and fall of her chest as she approached him was by mere basics. Her breath cascading from her bodice as naturally as anything, for it was perhaps the most basic need for life. Her pink eyes would take in the back of her husband, his head turned to the horizon and she would move towards him with ample grace. Bringing her head to brush along his hock her porcelain tones would dance from her lips, "My husband, have I displeased you?" Her inquiry is sweet, laced with the love she holds for him, swimming in the wish to right her wrongs. A simple smile lay graced upon her maw, happiness evident in her eyes to merely be beside him. The patriarch of the Bellator's, her betrothal to him having been perfect, for no other could have proceeded to captivate her after wedlock.