Haunted Wood for the rotting (mtr.)

“Care to join?”
The offer was low, with lilting supplication lurking beneath. Nesrine took her time to ruminate over the morsel she currently gnawed between yellowed fangs; and only when it passed down her blood-daubed throat did she cast an absent, lingering look over a rounded shoulder.

And when she saw who stood there, her red lips parted in a siren’s smile.
“I won’t bite, unless you’d like me to?” With that, she pushed her weight into the moss-laden earth up and up into a sit; thick plume of a tail shifting with idle amusement of her own and she looked the colossus up and down and up again.