Black Morass armageddon

she soaked in the woman’s praise like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. her blue eyes gleamed, predatory but amused, as the words rolled off genevieve's tongue with a sincerity that could only be born of awe. beautiful, malleable—a creature who could be shaped and guided with a gentle hand or a firm grasp.

oh, genevieve, ione murmured, her voice dripping with warmth and charm, her gaze sweeping over the smaller wolf with deliberate slowness. how gracious you are to speak so kindly. perhaps the celestial mothers knew precisely what they were doing.

she stepped closer, her movements fluid, her presence commanding yet soft, like silk brushing against skin.

i am ione, reverend mother of imperium, she said, her tone smooth and reverent, as though the title itself were a blessing bestowed upon the woman before her. tell me, little star, do you seek a place in the world? for i might have just the answer to that longing in your heart.

her lips curved slightly, her gaze unbreaking as she awaited the woman’s response, every part of her a siren’s call cloaked in promise.