Hekate rises to a sit, subtly pushing forward-- suddenly, it feels like too much. Suddenly, it feels like not enough. Lazare stays steady on her feet though her gaze sits heavily upon her companion. There's an itch beneath her skin to says to get close, to closer. It overwhelms her Has she ever felt anything so fiercely? The enormity of her desire in this moment-- her desire for everything the striped woman had-- disgusted her. Scared her. Lazare, who was always so untethered had never truly wanted anything before. She's never been grounded enough to want. Not like this. Not like this.

Now, she thinks she understands her family's gluttony, their wanton appetite. But it's not blood she wants, even as she looks upon @Hekate like a wolf would a rabbit.

Carnivore want roars in her veins even as her cheeks, too, burn demure. A soft, matching rosy hue beneath the brown-and-cream fur-- shy even as she wants to scream. A teenaged girl with a crush. An uncaged animal, frothing at the mouth. Was there ever a difference between the two? No, she doesn't think there ever was.

Oh? Lazare murmurs, voice whisper-soft. Lazily, her eyes trail from hekate's down to the other girl's lips-- pausing there for a moment as the sound echoes and dies out with a whimper. oh? her eyes continue down, then, lingering on the crux of hekate's throat-- and again, that aching want. someone less selfish might call it need, but Lazare’s claws ache to flex in and never let go.

The nights are quiet here, she reminds her friend as she takes a step forward. It's not smooth nor graceful-- instead her angular frame slinks forward. Predatory in this, as she is elsewhere. We will have to be quiet, too. The words burn, accent thick upon them as she lingers closer still. Almost chest to chest, almost touching-- and then her paw extends towards hekate. Beckoning her close, a mirror-image of the night they'd first met.

Bloodied and bathed in moonlight, as they were always meant to be.

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Now Hekate was the one on a hazed precipice. Creeping, greedy ivy of her gaze trailed up and down and around Lazare's angular frame with such a tunneled blur that she could not be certain of her wakefulness. She exhaled sharply at the girl's punctuated oh's, pursed lips restraining arguments against claims that had not truly been made. If Lazare thought her impulsive, unrefined, was she so wrong? Hekate felt all of that around her personal apparition and more. She felt mad. She felt like a dream.

"The nights are quiet here."

Lazare was upon her before she knew it. She was rose-tinted and blood-tinged, proximity lapping violet pelt with the teasing heat of a flame that refused to quite burn. Hekate parted her jaws as if to murmur her agreement or otherwise when the desert princess made the fullness of her point known just as she was practically close enough to touch.

"We will have to be quiet, too."

"Is that an order, Prinzessin?" She did not flock to the crook of her extended arm immediately, eyes turning upward to meet chilling blue with a defiant glimmer. She leaned forward to trace blush-hued nose gingerly along Lazare's velvet jaw, her own shaky breath leaving her dizzy and dazed despite how her heart raced along. She withdrew just enough to witness any subtle turn of the girl's expression when she asked, "what will you do if I scream?"

---

@Lazare

So close are they.

It's unnerving. It's electric. Lazare feels as though she's going to come right out of her skin, which feels too tight stretched around her bones. Gossamer eyes peer relentlessly at her companion, caught somewhere between wanting to pull hekate in or to push her away. That strange sliver of wanting both makes her chest heave, an unvoiced scream brewing on her tongue. But-- they had to be quiet.

Hekate was not her's-- lazare knows this, even without yet meeting the other mirror-sisters. But no one else is going to interrupt them tonight.

an order? owlish eyes widen, a little, at the concept-- blush deepening upon the high cliffs of her cheekbones. Pretty as a picture, if not for the predatory glint in her eyes-- a similar shade to thr glistening of her fangs as she smiles. It could be, she murmurs, heated breath wanton in the way it rolls against @Hekate's cheeks. The woman leans closer and the simple touch of nose against cheek is enough for something monstrous to snarl within lazare's chest, veins electric with need and want and all those other terrible, wonderful things.

But it's not. The time for that could-- would-- come later. Here, now, bathed in moonlight the princess wants something else. Quietly her jaw tips upwards-- meaning that if hekate did not realign her nose's path, it would trace along the column of lazare's throat. Open, and wanton, and red all the way down. Hekate steps away and blue eyes snap to her-- clear and bright and intent, a subtle anger licking at the flames of desire now. The question she poses is pretty and it makes something inside of her burn; she doesn't have the answer to that, but she has the answer to this.

She moves forward, chasing hekate where she withdraws-- crowding back into her space with the desperation of a beggar. She felt dizzy but her paws were on thr ground and her mind was here-- dizzy, not dazed. Tu n'auras jamais la chance de crier, You'll never get the chance to scream, lazare murmurs, the words thick on her tongue, forgetting herself as she lapses.

And then there is no more room for words, not as lazare leans forward and kisses her.

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