Duskfire Glacier [m] born with other names

the audacity. the pure fucking audacity! svalla would have worn a look of shock, should her pride if allowed it. Faust took to the fiendish woman with a quickness that made the wildlings stomach turn. her disgust scrawled across her face, her lips curling with distaste. 

Faust taunted her. goaded at her. and the woman—her scent sickly sweet—cowered at his side. she could have torn the woman limb from limb. stripped her fur from flesh and worn it as a fucking robe. 

and yet, despite the gnawing jealousy that twists at her heart and makes her want to bite, she does not. 

no—she would match this audacity with something crueler. something petty. instead of unleashing her wrath upon the whore that wound herself around Faust, she smiled. 

humorless. sharp. conniving. was it lesser, to stoop as low as she was about to? 

perhaps. but did she care? no. 

Faust wanted to taunt her? she would play his game. 

"oh, it is not a crime? how silly of me." she mused, taking a step away from the cowardly woman. she paced slowly, a sway in her hips. her tail curling at her hind; deliberately, a tease. so long as she had faust's eyes on her, she was winning. 

with a knowing smirk and a mischievous glint to her eye, she takes a few steps away from the pair. "then i'll find a man to warm my bed tonight." she stated so casually. turning away from the pair, her muzzle reaches toward the sky. 

"enjoy your whore, Faust." she purred. it would not last, and she would stoop as low to take another. to wound faust the same way he thought he would wound her.