Shimmering Sands sun conch

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— sivaak laughs at this. burning crimson on the man, hearing his words true. this does not bother her. it is a reality she has faced.

sivaak does not feel things such as love (or so she thinks, so she will tell you.) she feels passion. she feels possession. she feels pride. the muradoii queen lets eyes narrow with salt-sting on black scar, white tail swishing then to thump upon the sand beneath.

that is what make you so want by me. she would growl to him, turning motherly glance over shoulder to ensure eyes remained on tustling lanzadoii and muradoii—before casting firm back to the strong chieftain. you raid. like muradoii. take slave. she burns at the imagery. fuck slave. and maybe she would enjoy to watch such power from him.

you not so different from muradoii. the sea is in my blood. i pray to the black sea. you pray to something else. but yes, she rumbles, make new. make something stronger. cubs you make with captive never be as strong as cubs you have through me. i know this.

eyes narrowing. you know that i will kill any weak. this bothers?