DEATH ON A QUEEN-SIZED BED

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? after facing the A B A N D O N M E N T of her own kin, it is no wonder that the carnage queen houses the overwhelming urge for possession. such desires are fervent, compelling, and the phantom has been made aware of the exact { and slightly unorthodox } method of fulfillment -- such a strategic scheme that not even she had yet committed previously, and one she harbors trepidation towards. and yet, her aspiration is one that must be slaked for the sake of progression, and for the sake of security -- she must produce a successor, an elysius. but she is no common harlot that willingly spreads her legs at the whims of men; she is a tyrant queen, bound by the genetics of supremacy and enticed by the prospect of familial advancement. and if it must be from her own womb that the proceeding generation of ruthless mercenaries emerge, then she must stoop so low as to willingly bend beneath man to spawn such superior creatures -- she must willingly conceive alacritia?s future tyrants.



yet she knows not where to scavenge for the tools of procreation, her desperation none too great to force drastic measures upon herself. thus, she has no need to adopt the sultry demeanor of a lecherous concubine, her movements as powerful and domineering as is typical -- indifference plastered to her marred visage as robust limbs propel her through the various regions of the south. there is naught to captivate her rare interest but the compacted foliage surrounding her, barricading her impressive physique from the view of the forest?s occupants as well as obscuring those she might have encountered from her own view. and yet, her strides are strategically made with the intent to divert attention unto herself, each paw step amplified as she purposely tramples upon fallen leaves and stray branches alike, ears careening atop the skewed slopes of her crown in an attempt to locate any wandering { poor } souls that might serve their purpose towards her selfish cause.