The Sentinels good morning, worm, your honor

Maegi shook her head as he pressed against her, shook it wildly, stumbling back and nearly tripping over a fallen charred branch. "No," she sputtered, the bravado gone from her voice. "Stop. I don't-- Don't touch me," she said. "Stay away."

It was different, from the way Mou embraced her. Or Rokig, or Droman, or Stockholm. His caress was primal, insistent. Stealing something from her that she did not want to give away. She shuffled on her three good paws, scattering the ash, face set in a troubled frown. Eyes widening, then narrowing again. Widening, narrowing again.

She couldn't decide between fear and disgust, and settled on a combination of the two. But she locked her eyes with his, not looking the slightest bit away. Maegi would not give him the satisfaction of looking away, of giving in entirely to whatever sick whims the man enjoyed. It would discredit her as a Melonii, as a Blackfeather, to crumble beneath that yellow gaze.