<font face='times' color='#fff'>like a moth to the flame</font>

Mazikeen the hellfire queen
None the king consort		None the second in command
Cambion - Kohelet Solzeren - V�na the populace		None the second's herd
Mazikina - Orthon - Warcrime the progeny		None the second's spawn
Lucifer of the Dunes Marceline of the Hills the allies		None of nowhere the adversaries
the rules Make friends with our allies, wreak havoc on our enemies. The co- and sub-lead positions may be challenged for by any member of the herd. Hover over names & ranks for additional information.

like a moth to the flame
Posted on November 6, 2024 at 02:29:04 AM by Kipling

"You still can, Quinn.."

Her words had hung in the air for only a few moments, lost in the din of crashing waves some yards off. The sounds of rushing water and squawking seabirds were the only things that stretched between them for several long minutes. Kipling didn't look at Quinn when she finally took his silence as an answer. Nor did she look back at him upon turning away and heading down the beach to take her leave of Salem.. and of him.

She despised the hot tears that spilled unwillingly from her eyes. Kipling hated being so hurt when he had said so little and was insulted by his complete lack of an answer altogether. The sting of rejection deafened her so that Kipling did not hear Quinn's frenzied approach over the deluge. The impact nearly keeled her over outright, but the sharp rake of his teeth on her withers incensed Kipling to her core.

Her first instinct is to wrench herself away from him, snapping her own teeth at any part of this stallion to punish him for this, for everything he'd put her through the last four years. They grappled for a short time, but he refused to loose his hold on her. It ended with them both panting heavily after the exertion and Kipling trembling with fury. Her withers stung harshly in the salt-laden air, feeling every heave of Quinn's breath as he steadied himself.

His words are perceived by the mare to be an insult. She moved quickly, snapping her still-bared teeth at him, before trying to shove him away. "Why," Kipling spits at him. "So, we can play 'happy family' until the next time your queeeen calls on you?" The mare's mottled ears are flattened against her skull, making her displeasure with him plain as day.

Kipling

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