Firestone Hot Springs [m] Wild Childs, Lookin' Good

Coiling around Machiavelli's frame, a tail brushed the back of his legs. This, Machi said. Is the secret. The vines parted way and they soon entered to be enshrouded by them. A pod hit the ground, and verdant jewels spilled like diamonds from the capsule. Moonlight covered them, and their scent was so burning it made her wish to drag a million nails across the bridge of her muzzle until blood stopped spilling.

A whisper bloomed from her lips. "Ritual," she repeated. A front foot stepped back-- away from the stinging, the screeching smell up her nose and its innocent gleam blinding her eyes. It was Machiavelli's swaying tail brushing her that brought her forward again. That muzzle tilted and those eyes turned to the mans words, intent on hearing all of them.

"Does he miss where he used to live?"

Looking towards the open seed pod, the demons head submitted to bowing towards them to give a cautious sniff. It still.. Burned, yes. The underside of Machiavelli's chin was stroked by a soft muzzle. "The place of.. Visions?" At the mention of vision, the seed pod blurred in Legend's own, sick.

A secret.

Machiavelli's chin, brushed once more.

"Akashingo is scarce of them." Against the corner of Machi's lips, they were spoken into. A smile curved there, and then those delicate eyes fluttered with a gutteral pain. "The buzzing, it has ended?" Nothing had put an end to her own. An inky paw had placed over two of the spilled seeds, and felt them between the crevices of each pad.