Boartusk Heights daddy issues

Nymphora knew to respect her father.

Didn't mean she did. He was more like a stranger. A stranger who occasionally remembered they existed and slunk in to play daddy until he got bored again.

Still, a part of her wanted his approval all the same. Ever so eager to prove herself. She was quick to respond to the call, ice-slicked paws carrying her out of the caverns of the palace and up to the smarmy man of coal and ash, the very same that coated her spine and ran down her tail. 

Undoubtedly his own markings upon the pale blondes of her moon-bright mother. Chimera of the two. No wonder she was so unruly.

...Father. She dipped her head, pinnacle of royalty in action, if you looked beyond her personality of thorns. She came to sit next to Vincent.