Witching Hour
05-21-2013, 12:05 PM
Loki was pregnant. Again. She wasn't yet sure how she felt about carrying another load of whelps but she was certain she would grow to despise it. She remembered the back pain, the weakness in her limbs, the soreness of her muscles...it was torture on her slender bodice and she was loathe for her belly to swell. Nnoitra had had her time and time again, breeding her constantly, whenever the male got a free moment. There was no way in hell that she wasn't pregnant. Her stalker, however, would grate upon her nerves and the still slender woman would pause, icy words biting into the air as she made her demands. Her tail lashed angrily behind her and the woman threatened to snarl, the sound tugging at the corners of her lips as she slowly careened her bodice to face the woman. The first thing she came to notice was the oculars. They were blindingly bright and far too colorful. Her own gaze was vehemently toxic, a neon green that seemed to light in the most sinister of places, but she couldn't hold a candle to the two toned dame. "Insults are the keys to unlocking the aggressions of the mind." Tones would fall in a heady drawl, a response to the woman's words and nothing more as Loki waited to see just what the woman wanted. Speech, |