วซแดแดแดส แดสแด สแดแด แดษด, โ ษดแดแด แดสแดแดสแด โ
๊ท๊ฆ๏ธถ๊ท๊ฆ๏ธถ เน เฃญ โญ๊ท๊ฆ๊ท๊ฆ๏ธถ๊ท๊ฆ๏ธถ เน เฃญ โญ๊ท๊ฆ๏ธถ
๐ง Tw; Contษins dษrk themes
๐ซ Dm's open for plotting
๐ง fandomless oc.
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
โ แดแดสแด สแดสแดแดก โ
โ
โ
๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ง๐ข ๐ฌ๐ข๐จ๐ฅ ๐ก๐๐ช ๐๐ข๐๐ฌ.
๐ ๐๐ฅ๐๐ฌ ๐๐๐ก ๐ฆ๐ง๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐ผ๐๐๐๐ฟ.
๐๐ข๐ฅ ๐ ใ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ใ๐๐ ๐๐๐ฟ ๐๐ ๐๐๐ โ.แ
โ
โ
A shame it was soured. He would have loved to see her works. . .
Perhaps a hunt then?
I wish I could remember
โthe good timesโ
But those were the first to
leave my mind
โ My Family Always Dabbled In The Occult. Now Alone I Pick Up The Pieces. โ
- - - - - - - - - - รโร - - - - - - - - - -
โฐ Tw; Contษins dษrk themes
โพ Dm's open for plotting
โฐ fandomless oc.
- - - - - - - - - - รโร - - - - - - - - - -
โ แดแดสแด สแดสแดแดก โ
21
She looked 'hard to chew through'. . . .
Was she ~?โก
Clawed digits gently clenched and unclenched. . .
What a hellish time for a language barrier to exist. His single good eye flickering over her visage. . . Her form . . .
The mantle of strength in iron sinew and hardened flesh . . .
A soft, trilling purr, followed by a chirp.
Wounds that visibly marked his body would have been lethal to any other fragile species.
He was but a tad too old, and a tad too wounded by his culture's standards to be anything more than someone who fixes the messes of the younger hunters . . .
"๐๐ถ๐ฏ๐ต๐ฆ๐ณ. ๐๐ข๐ณ๐ณ๐ช๐ฐ๐ณ. ๐๐ผ๐บ๐บ๐ฎ๐ป๐ฑ๐ฒ๐ฟ. ๐๐จ๐ญ ๐๐ง๐ฒ๐ฆ๐จ๐ซ๐, ๐ง๐จ๐ญ ๐๐ฎ๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ฒ. ๐๐ค๐ฌ ๐ ๐๐ข ๐พ๐ก๐๐๐ฃ๐๐ง.๐ฆ๐น๐ฎ๐๐ฒ๐ฟ. ๐๐๐๐๐ก๐๐ซ. . .แดสแด
." The Voice spoke out with a small chirp and trill, hand raising to trace talons across his aged hide, then to his pendant of bones.
He was past his prime by a few hundred or so years, and the +
Threatening someone and the response being nothing but admiration and joy, as if she were some magnificent creature in the fields, a prime specimen.
To be worshiped as borderline divinity was one thing, but to be admired for one's strength was another.
+
To hear more, face her on the field of battle, hunt her or he hunted by her in the densely packed foliage and mounds of his homeworld. . .
Sadly with age comes responsibility. And with those, came chains around what he can and cannot do now.
Sigh. . . If only. It must have been strange to her.
The Hunter not caring enough to test her temper, thumb pads gently caressing the side of the bracer, before lowering with another click and an amused huff.
Her threat was beautiful. Veiled just enough not to offend, but powerful and absolute.
If he were a younger hunter he would have loved +
A soft growl and chuckle left his throat, old eyes never breaking from her divine form, head tilting in a cascade of fleshy braids. . .
"๐๐ผ ๐ป๐ผ๐. ๐๐ฉ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ข๐ต๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ฎ๐ฆ. ๐๐ข๐ญ๐ก ๐ ๐๐๐๐ฎ๐ญ๐ข๐๐ฎ๐ฅ ๐๐ง๐. ๐๐น๐ผ๐ผ๐ฑ๐๐ต๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐s ๐บ๐ ๐ป๐ผ๐๐ฟ๐ถ๐๐ต๐บ๐ฒ๐ป๐." The stitched together words were not her own this time, either a sign of respect or +
He bares his flesh once this #SeductiveSunday. . .
Make him regret it, and your skull will he mounted upon his wall.
' Business comes before pleasureโฆ and now Iโm prepared to indulge. '
#SeductiveSunday
โ๐ถ RP account, not new to rp
โ๐ถ Length of replies vary
โ๐ถ Multiship & Multifandom
โ๐ถ Oc
โ๐ถ Multiverse
โ๐ถ MDNI
โ๐ถ Mun is 25+
#RP #mvrp
Its Head shifted to examine her once she spoke, Talons tracing slowly across its own bracer as it softly hissed out in curiosity once more.
"๐๐ฉ๐ช๐๐ฎ๐๐ฃ๐. . . ๐ธ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐." The Mechanic voice splice chirped out from the Mask, recorded from other voices it seemed.
Human technology is shockingly simple to grasp.
This Courting App is even simpler to understand.
As for how it works. . .
. . .elaborate further on the question
Someone sent this to me about Wolf, now all of you gotta see it tooโ)
The Wolf cocked its head, Masked face blankly examining her. . .
Before small, clicking and tapping. . . Repeatedly, smooth and in a pattern. . .
He was laughing at her comment.
"๐๐ฆ๐ณ๐บ. ๐๐ถ๐ต ๐ธ๐ฆ๐ข๐ฌ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ด๐ด. ๐๐จ ๐ฃ๐ค๐ฉ ๐๐ก๐ก๐ค๐ฌ๐๐. ๐ณ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐."
Its language wasn't pretty.
It wasn't beautiful in a normal sense.
Hisses. Growls. Chirps. And throat purrs.
It was powerful. And power was rarely soft.
Wounded throat, like sandpaper and gravel, with none of that romanticized 'smooth and caramel words' that most fawned over in stories.
His voice, was sharp, like unsmoothed gravel, gruff like thistle, and raw and rumbling like a predator.
