Wild Berry Meadow Join [m]y cult and be my lover for the day, b*tch

As if he sensed her remiscent thoughts, he struck like an angered cobra. 

It had not been so long that Pixie forgot the days of slavery, not so far forgotten that she could not recall the score of fangs and claws alike against her tender young flesh - a myriad of abuse hidden in the plush folds of chestnut. 

She tensed, witholding a flinch, as eyelids shielded mismatched eyes - the darkling withdrawing from the curl of comfort around her prone form as shouts befell her pinned auds. 

Her eyes drifted open, flinching in confusion as he leaned forward. With bated breath, the witch awaited the pain of retribution for her perceived slight. 

But he only licked her stomach gently, something lost and vulnerable shining in his gaze. Pixie felt a surge of warmth stir at his words and in spite of her fear, her tail beat a soft tempo of joy at the prospect of carrying Nikan's children. Her odd gaze answered his, just as perplexed and damaged as his own. 

It faded as quickly as it came and the witch was left staring into the night's abyss as he turned away curtly. 

It was several heartbeats before the Mage shifted, turning her blank and blinking stare from their surroundings and curling with her spine against the darkling's. 

It was even longer before the silence within gave way to the oblivion of an unsettled sleep.