--the way i die.

Just after she would coo, came the sound of a pack wolf. One whose scent was quite entertaining. Of Solstice. They did not know what was coming soon. Or had they caught wind of what was to be in the next wavering moments? The child was obviously cold, and the harlot had given into the child, lying at his side and giving the young boy all of the heat and warmth she could muster. The summer winds were retreating, bringing colder polar winds from the northern lands south. Then the woman became miss Mama Bear. A demand fell from her maw, but the harlot left her a reply of some degree of defiance. Solstice was not a pack of authority over her, ranked or not. "But then who would keep this poor child warm?" In a bit of a teasing motion, she would lean over, nuzzling the frail child and giving him a lick on the back of his small head, but concern lit her amethysts, and licking the child would get his blood to circulate better and warm the infant well enough so that if she would have to fight for him, she could leave his side long enough to.

Then came... spinach? Rotten spinach with cranberry eyes? The hell was this? Alacritia had a rainbow, but a walking salad was too much. It looked like a demon, and those eyes. They bore holes into her skull. The little thing was a tiny being, even smaller than she. For a moment, the harlot had an image of the slate male she knew as Valentine and this demon standing side to side. What a difference. Nearly two feet of it. She felt the glare she was locked into, in the woman's crosshairs. Then came another demand to move. The harlot held back the urges to speak against it, refusal flashing across her features. What children had the tiny demon given birth to that weren't toddling around her paws. The woman certainly didn't seem like she was old enough to be having children, unlike Mama Bear and her sapphire eyes.

There was a bit of a surprising appearance, the silver queen. Her visage was twisted by malice, and a smirk curled her features, nose inhaling the scent of one obvious choice, Mama Bear, or Qanik. Her magenta gems flickered from each person in attendance, from herself, to Qanik, and to Walking Salad, before honey dripped from her bared fangs. Bashed. That word was brutal, as if Mama Bear or this tiny little demon could do too much damage to her. A smirk curled the harlot's visage as italian lyrics would flow. "Ma non vorrei inchinarsi cos? facilmente." Oh, it was refreshing for her language to flow off her inky lips once more. It had been so long since the last time they had filled her cranium with it. And as always, the husband followed.

The infant would press against her, seeking more warmth. His wails had receded, but his dim eyes were alit by terror and fear. Warmth blossomed from her heart, as his small skull pressed against the fur of her chest, and she would reply with a simple lick to his small skull. Kylar seemed also confused by the Walking Salad, but he rumbled, demanding she keep the infant warm, as if that wasn't what she already was doing. If a fight broke out, the harlot didn't want to be left out of it.