holy tits on a stick, thank you muse ♥



The ice queen sauntered with the unmistakable poise of a seasoned juggernaut, confidence enunciated from the pretentious positioning of the plush appendage draped like a banner above her rump with grandiose. The pompous mannerisms that had haunted her very being from the moment she had plagued the earth with her maleficent presence were now justified by the prestigious title that had just recently labeled her and the golden regalia that had been handled to her upon a silver platter; everything the pallid viper had ever dreamt of obtaining was now within her clutches, and oh how the covetous queen was reluctant to relinquish her firm grasp upon the reigns of authority. No ? the Tortuga crown, it suited her no matter how crooked its placement was atop her skull and no matter how little her militants numbered at, and even if her competence was only seen through her own biased eyes and the opinion shared by none other.


A grimace contorted her immaculate and angelic countenance as the low rumbling of thunder vibrated the earth beneath her dainty paws, causing metallic eyes that gleamed with disgust to roll back in their sockets as her pupils searched for the source of resonance. Ominous, gloomy clouds blanketed the gray skies, threatening to unleash their liquid prisoners at any given moment to destroy her otherwise glorious trek across the northern region of the island, so far a distance away from the realm under her possession where her regime lay. A singular droplet cascaded from the looming clouds above, pelting just beneath a glittering, mercury eye, sliding down the bridge of her muzzle until it breached her nostrils that flared with a defiant huff that sent the drop into oblivion. Irritation surged throughout her petite form as the wench realized the droplet would be accompanied by his brethren in due time, and although on any other day the babe would have waltz beneath the downpour as if it were another obstacle that needed to be passed, the wench presumed this storm to be atypically vehement, and rightfully so. A second, more demanding roar of thunder reverberated in the atmosphere, forcing the white witch to pivot and flee in search of the nearest shelter to cover her from the impending storm.


As the rain began to fall in torrents, an indentation in the mountain nearest to where she frantically searched captivated her attention, enticing her with the promise of shelter. She bolted towards the entrance, breaching the mouth of the dimly-lit cavern and losing the repetitive sensation of rain showering her pristine flesh in the process. A grunt escaped her gluttonous jaws as she heaved her mass against the closest rock wall, sliding down its front until she was perched upon her haunches, raspy breaths falling from her dampened lips as she attempted to catch her breath that had been lost during her sprint.


"speech"

Lavender skies would whirl with rising fury, groaning and wheezing as neighbours sent one-another flurrying aimlessly about the firmament, whimpers of displeasure gushing from invisible orifice. The atmosphere would grow heavy, threatening mercilessly to release, imperceptible wings struggling to unfurl around their host. Though still the coral angel would find the liveliness to waltz, seamless strides unwounded by the oncoming downpour; gravity no threat to faultless mannerisms. It would seem the aloof creature were not alone, as as rapidly as the rains would commence- the heavens swelling before sending shards of their emotion shattering to the earth- a pale woman would dart by, perhaps too distracted by the hasty cloudburst to notice her gliding company.

Pelting now, the demon would alas find a comparable discomfort within the torrents, taking a somewhat daring opportunity to pursue the pastel woman as he sought shelter. In any other moment he would have loped, though the knowing of her presence would encourage the albino spirit to uphold, to maintain the artful gliding as if gazed aw-strikingly upon by an imaginary audience. So inaudibly he would seek her location of console, making no efforts to disguise his prescence, but rather meander somewhat carelessly within plain sight, peering through sheet of hydra as he would cease just short of entrance; ruby gaze struggling to focus upon the woman, maw twitching with rising amusement. This wouldn?t do now, would it? One imposing paw would reach forward, carrying the coral mortal partially within the dark cave, relocating the vixen, ?Beautiful weather, is it not?? he would chuckle weakly, tongue flipping momentarily at the water that traced his jowls.