magnetic

*Isardis* · 12-03-2013, 05:36 PM

She would identify the place in which Argent had vanished, and her apparent precision within details would encourage the pale ghoul to believe her word down to the last whisper of her breath; and as much as his mind may have begged him otherwise, he simply had to trust somebody, or there would be nobody left to divulge within. A pack meeting was in order, and very soon it would be forged. Her words of approval, her acceptance of her rank would please him, send his curled tail coiling about his haunches as he sat so colonially atop a growing carpet of snow. This kingdom had forever been Sendoa?s, but now it was hers down to her name, down to her title. He hoped, whatever doubts he held within her trust, could be mended by her self-proof. She had always been willing to please him, The King only hoped such would continue.

He didn?t know what he would do without her, or even what he would be without her. Sendoa had no less than raised him, and now they continued only to help eachother. Perhaps he would never understand the word ?love?, but in that moment it seemed to rest perfectly against his troubled emotions, ?I have a love for you that compares to no other,? and she would continue to please him; willingly offering up the identity of Taurig?s chosen woman, and he would store the name effortlessly within his mind. Taurig had taken Argent from him, it was only fair Isardis should do the same. He allowed her to stand, forgetting his fresh wounds and exhaustion as his haunches would raise also, pulling him towards the screaming cries of her womb.

He had fallen blind to her heat, however it seemed she was intent on ensuring it was well known, and the simmering thrill of the duos offspring would begin to send flurries of ecstasy through the tissue of his lungs. He would come to press his chest against her breast for a few moment, however only lightly, muscle tender from the bruising of his brawl, jaws gnawing at the velvet folds of her left ear, only to ?heal the wound? with the brushing of his salmon tongue. He would groom down to her shoulders, stepping forwards as he worked to stand with his nape pressed against the contours of her outer thigh, incisors working with adoration at the base of her cobalt tail. He would be a kinder lover that day, tamed by his injuries, and mellowed by the pull of her simmering heart.

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