it's a full moon by the time she and @baphomè arrive at the mouth of the hollow's entrance. the gaping darkness welcomes them and silence reign forth. the night soaks in an entirely new feeling, of dread, of apprehension, and, perhaps, some sort of tension. then queen holds her head high, stark green eyes glittering amongst the pallidness of her northern coat. the thick of her paw pads steps towards the entrance, though she doesn't budge as her gaze swivels to the older lion. here we are she says, ears cupping forward so as to hear him speak. she quite like the way he sounds, it's a touch better than the accented tongue of others but not as homely as the ones spoken by her and her brethren. my den is near this cavern, but once you go in you can find more. i'm sure most will be big enough for you and another, if you wish.

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The Obsidian Hollow—an appropriate name, and appropriate place. He peered through the sullen corridors with an inquisitive twitch. He stepped nearer towards the gloaming queen; full like the moon at their back, her coat a beacon against the abyss. He was but a moth to it, and he drifted nearer into her orbit. His lips found that familiar seat of satisfaction, allowing his lips to betray a habitual frown.

Marvelous, his tongue purled loose, the sound was drawn out against the echoed stone. He took it in, allowing the chill to greet him and the heat of his breath. His eyes darted to cast a glance towards her private quarters, before drifting towards the winding caverns beyond. The inference did not evade him, and he passed @Úlla a haughty grin. And who else shares your caverns, Mon reine?

The man's movement is felt as he steps closer to her. Úlla's ears twitched, remaining in its forward motion as she studies the man with a nonchalance. Everything quiets down, from the wind to the distant sound of the sea. She supposes there's nothing beautiful about the hollows to see. And yet, this place is almost heavenly to her. You're not looking at the pride she remarks, green gaze hooking onto the male's darker face. And yet, him watching her brings a new kind of exhilaration. They are among the area where there are more foot traffic. Anyone could see and hear what they are saying. I have quite a few lions beneath my banner. My son and his daughter, a lead medic, a lead fighter, and a few adults, yearlings, and cubs. It's useless to name them right now. Úlla's also certain that Baphomè wouldn't care about it. Not unless he's looking for someone. Let's go in. Instead of moving, Úlla attempts to roughly rub her shoulder against @Baphomè's leg. To the unfamiliar outsider, it seems strange, mean even, but this is Úlla's way of showing him her interest at more than just a simple tour.

table by ferus

Non, I was not. A question hung on his lips, a forced query guided more by what he understood to be etiquette than genuine curiosity. He'd never had a need for their ways prior, nor would have a use for things like names or expectations. Perhaps @Úlla understood that about him already, perhaps he'd become no more than a vice for her to enjoy. The latter was far more enticing than any throne. And though her piercing eyes could read the thoughts drifting behind his, she gave a brazen show. There was nothing to misunderstand, no innuendo beyond his reach. He leaned into the woman's brusque touch, drawing his chin against her spine. An approving brontide stirred at his throat, before ushering her to take the lead; The Queen first.

It's in the dead silence of the night, where some say the moon casts its seductive charms upon those who dwell beneath it. They may be half-submerged in the dark, but the light of the moon still touches them. The tension is palpable, but it's an easy sort of feeling that made Ulla's decision to continue all the more fun. Once, she thought her younger days of spending time with another were gone. But in the blink of an eye, that was dashed to fine dust. In came a man and then another who swept her away briefly, regaling her with their voice. She's surprised that since the time spent with Leviathan, there have been no signs of pregnancy. It is said that Vellen gifted his strongest supporters with more than just bloodshed. Gifts of power and of life are just a few of the smaller things her god will grant if he wishes. Seeing @Baphomè's interest in her quickly rising, Ulla stopped just as she found a spot of softer ground to stand upon, before beginning to move back into her den. Will you obey your queen's command if she asks you? Her words are honeyed whilst her hip rest against the entrance. This is a test to see what he will do and won't do. Though, something tells Ulla that he will gladly take it if it means she's involved too.

table by ferus

And what would ma reine ask of me? He queried, his chin resting atop her hip. He gave little of his weight, though enough to infer all her salacious instinct may muster. He did not push—greedy as he was, there was a joy to be had in the dance with one who was willing. He was a cad, a rogue; a snake. But, even monsters were known to have a finer palette than to deign to give way to frenetic fetes. Generous, as he was, there was a bend to his lip that implied a greater interest. He’d be cautious of others’ motives. Never the lamb, though happily used. But what use was he to a Queen? That was a most intriguing thought. It was enough, he’d shuffled away thoughts of the world beyond the two, pushed away ideas of obligation and purpose. No; for in the intimacy of this, that was all that mattered to him: the fullness of her eyes, and the strength of @Úlla's persuasions.

He's certainly a smart specimen and Ulla is eager to know of the many talents that he possessed. After all, staying in the hollows means giving something to the pride. Be it hunting, sentry duty, or even simply keeping away intruders; the lions here must give something. But at this moment, Baphomè, newly joined as he is, has something Ulla herself needs. It's a need that only a select few may know of and satisfy. My den's been quite lonely, won't you join me for a little while? Her audacious behavior isn't reflected in just her sultry words, but in the sway of her hips as she slips fully into her quarters. The vastness of it will allow Baphomè the room to navigate in. Once she's settled, Ulla makes sure to flick at the man's wrist with her tail. Green eyes turn dark and desirous as she gives him an inviting chuff, before relaxing her muscles for what will happen. [fade]

table by ferus

[ fade from black] She asked – and so he gave. He gave to her the intimacy many craved yet may never obtain. Galaxies of contentedness were a gyre in the pit of his essence; an ever-hungry abyss that churned and rollicked. A blackened tide beating against moon-washed shorelines. Chaos, chaos for him to revel in. He knew not the scruples behind whatever world beget this woman, knew nothing of whatever it was he’d shirked in joining her bed-chamber. But, he knew, as he always did, that the juice was always worth the squeeze. He draped his weight at her side, allowing the carmine of his flanks to rest against that pale nacre of hers. Any sense of unfamiliarity waned, and he made himself comfortable there—if only for this small chapter. His smoke-flocked face pressed itself against @Úlla's shoulder, caressing before he broke the cavernous din, quelling the silence. Loneliness does put a damper on things, doesn't it? he inferred nothing, simply observing the reality one goes through. he'd forgotten the warmth of women on his journies, forgotten the comfortability of sharing a hearth.

This feeling of closeness is reassuring, only that Úlla, even at her most coldest, demands the warmth of another. She allows @Baphomè to drape himself against her, his weight a welcoming pillar. This is not romance. It's simply the desires of the flesh and a moment of weakness for herself. Something tells the pale queen that Baphomè is experienced in the ways of carnal play, more than she ever will. But he's here and he's real and Úlla feels full of him. Hot breaths fan across her flesh as she peers at him from the corner of her eyes, listening to his deep voice rumble through her pliant body. It does make us crave more than we should she says without hesitation while sinking her claws into the bedding. Is that why you joined me? Úlla decides to lean into him, feeling the hard firm muscles beneath his skin. A ghost of a smile touches her face, before it vanishes, like always.

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I am well-travelled, he began—-basking in the preternatural glow of her company (oh, how good the moon must look on you). Entranced by their closeness and her warmth, the softness of her touch. But yes. The road is lonesome. he never understood the shame of being honest, nor private displays of vulnerability. He wore the facets of himself shamelessly, any facade was beneath him. So he drew in a heavy breath as he weighed her query, knowing the answer yet not the way to articulate it.

I joined because you make me… ah, curious. he gave a thoughtful him, shifting not out of discomfort but a gesture of attentiveness to what she’d asked. I’ve always enjoyed the company of independent and confident individuals. those who lived beyond poorly built merits; the audacious, the avaricious, those mighty and of dreamers of largess. Small minds and banality weren’t for him.

And so I prefer to keep company with those who know what they want and aren’t afraid to demand it.