Bearclaw Valley her perfume crucified me with memories

EW!!! #NOTMYBAPTISM

as they played, even the cold-shouldered indra let her guard down -- the spirit in their game was relaxing, and for a while she forgot the heavy troubles of the world that rode her shoulders like a burdensome cloak. too late was it for her to notice her son's posturing, the unmistakable heave of a hip --

no harpy ever fled faster from a sword, nor any spider ever recoiled so violently from a vial of light, as indra did that day when she saw her son in the fits of his power..

typical men, always thinking with their dicks anyway -- but besides the point ---

the toy was left where it was, but indra's muzzle was not free of insult as she felt something uncomely, warm, and terrible trickle down her cheeks. with a hiss of anger for a moment she seemed she was about to strike merrick down in his insolence, yet the storm that gathered behind her gaze seemed to suddenly lift as she recollected her wits and, in disgust, turned on her heels to find a source of water.