Everfrost

	Her skin was cold.   Crawling from the blighted forest upon her belly with breathy, pained groans and simpering giggles, the sudden impact of this strange, magical force is enough to leave her stunned, and mentally lost.  No sooner is she free of the overhanging shadow of the forest than her groveling ceases, instead replaced with a sidelong laid Beloved, her kitten prancing about her kicking legs with vast amusement, occasionally latching down on a limb with ferocity, biting and slamming her hind paws into the flailing appendage with glee, until was tossed away by the contorting mare’s writhing.   From one side to the other she lunges her bodice upon the sand, occasionally scooting herself some distance upon her side, and all the while the cold rain beats down from above, raising steam from her eternally frigid figure.  With howls now growing audibly loud from between her dramatic thrashing and panicked giggles, even Orphan ceases her kitten’s cavorting, instead placing herself a short distance down the beach.  Hunkering down, her white tail twitch-swishes behind her, and her eyes avid dart this way and that, following the contortions of her panicked master with eager calculation.   Suddenly thrusting upwards from the damp ground in a clinging wave of murky beach and floundering witch, her hind legs buck behind her savagely, before she is oddly still and silent, only her freezing, pained flesh (now covered in grit, slowly being ate away by the rain) quivering or moving at all.  Trembling, staring back at the smoke riddled, glowing woodland in which this had all started, she glares, as if her look alone might cause the rain to ignite, burning it all to naught but ash.

@Dreadnought

Wet sand. It was a giant's worst nightmare, but it made a hell of a good workout. Each step he took forced his hooves deeper into the sand, as weight and power kept him moving forward. The gentle sway of his head almost lulled him to sleep, as nothing seemed to catch his focus as he just walked and walked and walked. It was something he had done for over half his life - just walking - and it kept him somewhat sane and relaxed like few other things did. Well, maybe one thing worked better, but he wasn't one to start humping everything that remotely looked like a hole. No. So he walked instead.

The pelt kept him somewhat dry and the gentle bumping from Daudir's tip against his hind leg urged him to push on. With an almost lazy look, he scanned the area in front of him, as if he searched for the meaning of life. And he found it. Maybe. He wasn't quite sure of what it was at first, but even in the rain, the smell of the opposite sex still gave a good punch in his nostrils. He picked up speed, going into a trot to keep his mind from playing games and make up stupid stories of who this may be.

Then he slows down and finally stops a dozen feet away from her, taking her in with his white gaze. "Are you hurt?" He asked, not allowing an ounce of worry creep into his dark voice. He did not know her and from his brief stay at this place, he had learned not to trust what his eyes saw, but rather what his heart felt. And regarding this - it was oddly calm.

@Beloved

	The white witch turns her eyes to the behemoth and beholds might, her rain dampened figure turning to look more fully upon his great girth and height. Her eyes slip slowly, trailing each line of him, and though she has heard his inquiry, it is some while of silent, somewhat creepy, watchfulness which he receives for all his concern. Steadily, bits of her come to life, but for the steam rising from her heinously cold, pained flesh; her tail, first, swishes and twitches, its wet strands streaming droplets that weave further rings into the puddles at their hooves, collecting in the step-pocked beach, and then her hooves, which carry her closer, graceful step by curving hip, her crown lowered, and bi-chromatic gaze seductive. Her giggles meet him halfway, soft and peeling, and it is not but one or two steps more before her words weave between them. "Cursed," she answers, pausing close enough to touch him, should she desire, but instead holding her dished face to herself, her soft, velvet lined body off-limits, for now; her voice is sweetly cherubic, her eyes doe-like, though the void of the black one is haunting, and the silver quivers with restrained want, "the cold which races upon Beloved’s flesh burns. Are you warm? Could you… heat us?"

Luck. It was not something he usually possessed or even wanted, as it took away from the pleasure of gaining something for himself from hard work only. He relied little on it, barely noticed when it knocked on his door, but after being swallowed and spat out into this strange place, he had found it had trailed behind him like a stray dog. Just by appearing exactly when he had, he found opportunities he would have missed, had he been somewhere else. Or maybe it had nothing to do with him or what he looked like. Maybe it was his sex that made the difference.

The sizzling of his horns are constant like the sound of crashing waves against a stony beach while he keeps his focus on her. She was not someone who possessed unmatched beauty in his eyes, but few did, so it mattered not. She was still pleasing to look at, her mannerism almost bordered to seductive. Or maybe it had already crossed that line. He was not the best at telling what the female mind wanted, unless they told him straight forward. But he did know better than to let this chance go by unanswered.

So he did not wait.

With an easy movement of his head, he opened the clasp of the medallion with his lips, letting the hide and sword slide down onto the wet ground. Being free of the restraints of another's skin, he dared to step closer to her. "We are all cursed." He said as he dipped his head low enough to diminish the distance between their flesh, only letting a few inches remain. "I am always cold. But for you, I shall make you warm."

	The sound and sight of his adornments falling to the wet sand below is enticing, rousing from her a lustful purr, her Arabian banner, pale as moonlit snow, lifts to its highest mass, and is promptly tossed asunder to reveal the pink conch so hidden, and the ribbons of her rain-wetted tail lacquering to her sumptuously poised side-hip. Her ears, lifted, take in the masculine rumble of his words, her giggles cresting, sharpening, at the statement: we are all cursed. "Not like me," almost lucidly whispers the malevolent one, her lips curved in a soft, desirous smirk, her knife-like gaze softening into a cloudlike reverie for the most split of seconds, before it is again digging, probing, seeking blood and bone. She slips that gaze across his crown, down his face, along his muscular flanks and long, powerful legs, legs that would enfold her, a figure that would press her deep into the sand, make her small body to groan beneath the weight, tousled and moved like a cloth doll, fluttering, and small… "Do not be gentle," she warns him, purrs, reaching out to nip roughly at his chest, then to slip along his sides, continuing her small violence, perhaps too eager with some, to the degree of drawing blood, or leaving lasting welts; he is big though. He can handle it. Or he can leave. "Chill such as ours requites…" she giggles, her voice trailing off for a moment as she feigns to ponder, her haunches allowed to linger temptingly within easy range of his nares, before she turns her eyes back to him, a smile tilted over her incessant, peculiar quips of laughter, "vigor."

There was some that was born to please, either others or themselves, but in the long run, that mattered little. It was just details, like how some tossed their tails in a certain manner to throw their scent around or walking with clouded, dreamy gaze. Being one of those who did not know shit about the art of flirting, he secretly reveled in her skill of shutting his brain completely off, making him forget about everything that mattered. It became hard to stand still, to control himself, with giggles following tempting words. When it got replaced by playful nibbling, he did not shy away from the intoxicating sting she left on his skin. He met it with a deep chuckle as he went for a taste of her skin as well, just as she passed his big frame.

"I do not know the meaning of gentle nor how to be it." It was a bad attempt at flirting, but at this stage, it didn't matter much. They were way past the point where one could chicken out and leave the other to ponder just what went wrong and why. If she went, he would follow, be it so into the depths of the blackest ocean. He held back the spontaneous side of himself, always, but now the bars began to crack and give in, allowing him to act without further thoughts of the aftermath.

It was done then.

Just a few words, a swing of a hip and look that would set even the coldest of hearts aflame, was all that was needed to make his thoughts pointless and futile. He went for her with one single goal in mind - he would show her what it meant entice a beast.

-FADE TO BLACK-