Bramblepoint i got sugar and salt in my blood

In this moment, here and now, counseling of the emotional sort wasn't what Tzila needed. All she wanted was for someone to listen. To listen without judging. And perhaps it was asking a little much, but also side with her viewpoint, even if it was selfish of her. The part of her that cared worried what she might see. She did not express the pleasant surprise and even relief she felt when Astaroth didn't recoil or sneer in disgust. Her tense muscles wanted to relax, but her body refused to relinquish just yet. "He is." She rumbled. "He exceeded me in every way and delighted in it." 'I was just never good enough' the look in her eyes seemed to say.

She snorted softly, tail tapping against the earth harshly. "Hmph. I'll do more than that. I'll rip them clean off." Her voice was cold, nothing at all light hearted in her cryptic promise. He didn't ask for a description, but he got one anyway. She gave a shake of her head, sighing. "He still haunts my dreams sometimes, the bastard. He's hard to miss. Dark like me, peppered with silver. Golden eyes like yours. His face is heavily scarred...missing a notch in his left ear." All her handiwork.