The Heartwood [m]insatiable

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: mentions of shamura and the gang gettin' their freak on

tonight was bound in lustful revelry, bodies tangled amongst one another in knots of tender pleasure. the four of them had departed from the hunting festivities and found a bed amongst the soft grown moss. death surrounded them in this place, and she found comfort in the silence of it. burned trees stood as sentinels to their sinful ways, the distant sound of a crow's cry marking the peak of their self-indulgence. 

shamura tore herself from the entanglement of the other three, affectionate kisses placed to their chin or an ear as they lay there in delight. she'd strayed off a few paces, far enough to where she could no longer hear the sweet mutterings her acolytes whispered to each other. 

it was here, alone, that she emptied herself spiritually. a hushed, gentle prayer cast beneath her paws as she felt all the sin she had just devoured pool through her toes and delve below the earth. a wave of ecstasy found itself wrapped to her in small shivers of relief. 

in the stillness of it all, she felt free — the one who waits was with her.

the smell of sex is nothing new to her—it is the germ of life, after all. it rises up, heady and thick, within the forest, and her own stomach tightens in response to the musky aroma. she means to walk on by when a shadow-turned-form catches her eye and—

she stands, gaze fixed upon the supposed hedonist.

i hope i am not interrupting you, tziporah casts out, her voice quiet but firm in the space between them. it's a magnificent creature that she addresses, lithe and dark and strong;

and awash in the lustful scent of others.