Hushed Willows blu(m)enmond

River see man.

River want man.

River take man.

There was no shyness to her approach. No coquettish charm. She simply looked upon him, moon eyes cold and dispassionate - until they weren't, when icy silver gems seemed to turn molten as she assessed the nightfox.

The scarring aged him, but she could tell he was still early in his prime. Probably as virile as he’d ever be, right now. At the height of his potential, right now.

Desirable, right now.

And there was no defect she could see that led her to believe his genetics were objectionable. He was tall, thick-coated, lean (possibly due to the lack of a packscent), with a complexion and eyes to die for. What more could anyone ask for? Maybe a sound mind, you say? Ehh, sanity’s overrated in River’s not-so-humble opinion. Plus, she believes in keeping the corporal punishment card in play to course-correct any “maladjusted behaviors.”

Nothing but his own preferences would keep her from adding this specimen to her alchemic womb. She would collect this trophy and be proud to have captured him. And she conveyed these things, her ultimately vampiric intentions, with every sway of her tail, beckoning him nearer.