--MOONS OF JUPITER--
06-10-2013, 11:34 PM
LANGUAGE & DEPRESSING THOUGHTS WARNING
The smell of birth was disgusting. Squirming whelps were disgusting. The only glamorous part about the entire ordeal was the conception, and even that was taken down a notch by the after affects. The harlot wandered back into Ludicael looking rough, her fur matted and torn, blood oozing down her neck. She smelled of terrible things, her eyes dull and vacant, her body more emaciated than it had previously been. Medusa did not let herself focus upon the fact that she'd been captured, for she had had it coming. She was a tease, after all, and had it coming to her. The smell of birth made her nose crinkle, although the woman had good enough morals to clean herself up a bit. Blood was cleaned off, fur made to be pristine, and the midnight-pelted woman made herself look stunning. It had been a while since she'd laid eyes upon her favorite alpha, after all. Once again she strutted forwards, seduction in every step, every movement meant to entice. Her wounds were fresh, but she could not ache from them. You deserved it, harlot. You asked them to fuck you. A shiver ran down her spine, for she most certainly hadn't. And yet she had, for she was a tease and a slut, a siren who sang for all. Except for that one time. She arrived at the birth to spot a familiar face, the russet alpha who had managed to achieve Medusa's obsession. Her eyes narrowed upon a male, obviously the father. Jealousy raged within the wicked woman's chest, and disgust at the nasty squirming whelps made her face crinkle. Lifting her moonlight-colored eyes to the probable father she cackled. "You do know I was first, dear? You weren't the first to fuck her," she cooed. She wanted him angry, she wanted him to make a fool of himself, because Medusa wanted her Turning her attention to the russet vixen she would snort. "You were so pretty before my dear. Why would you ruin your figure?" why weren't you there when they captured me. And yet she let no signs of desperation or pain slip through, the slightly more noticeable slimness of her frame the only hint of her hardships. Nobody cared for the grief of the wicked, after all. "I didn't take you for a domestic sort, not after our little talk," she said, once more hoping that the male was irritated, hoping to get under Jupiter's skin, because it had been a god damn long time since the siren had had a good laugh. |