Emotions kill faster than fire.
The achromatic inamorato thrusts herself into the lithosphere, bright and angry opticals surveying the damage of the topography, her barrel large and heavy with pregnation. For now, whomever was lead shall stay lead, but not for long- once her foal was dropped, matriarch was hers. Collaboration ceases as she comes to a halt, nostrils flaring as she releases harsh snort, clearly vexated with her small endurance. Demanding squeal is produced from larnyx, Death's Voice, come at once. Her dominant personality had only gotten worse from her pregnacy, to be messed with would mean a fight. Culmination is tilted to the side as she curls back lips and releases girlish squeal, informing the other ladies of her aggressive demeanor. Fulcrums move lazily slow as she goes to stand beside a large frondescence, the birds hopping from one gnarled branch to another twittering and chattering like musicians. The umbrage embraced her sizziling hot epidermis and cooled her temper off for a short bit, her mug dropped to the willowy vegetation as she begins to graze, her creamy pennant flicking to the side every now and then as she removes bloodsuckers from her discoid, couldn't those things go bother cows or something? Even deer! Just leave the quadrupeds alone already! Ripping sounds are heard as she almost rips dirt and roots up along with the blades, her irked stature returning rather quickly. i have missed you. but business before pleasure..do i fight for my lost position..or will it be given? i have changed much and now a little fight should be much to please me. but i suppose it is up to the faes, not the Czars to decide so.
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