Fingers running through her silken hair, I can caress forever, if I have not already. My hands begin to drift, from the tips of the hair, to trace the shoulders, then to run down the spine and back up again, only in an agonizingly slow manner. There is no instance to rush. Each moment of contact, a new sensation of emotion. Emotions that were always there but were never coaxed out until we met, until we crossed past our emotional and psychological needs, until we discovered our physical needs. Each moment together, a birth of energy, each moment a death. Such ambivalence’s to our illicit existence. But for this moment, our lives, finally have meaning. Such a moment of pure pleasure, a great joy, finally a satisfaction of the hearts, many decades of longing, to feel love. The sadness however is that this will be just a fleeting moment, a distant storm on the horizon. Ours a path of risk, filled with guilt and self recriminations, well that, we will have to make peace with ourselves. The Feedlings fly low, and lethal, bombarding the ground below with glyphs of Hate, crackling blasts of pure malice tearing the Keshemi into little more than chunks of meat and bone to be gnawed upon later, some grab people by their arms, bringing them high into the sky until letting them drop to the ground below, the wet crunch of bones and splintering flesh cause the queen to convulse and beg. "This is what you brought upon your people. This is YOUR doing! Feel it. Their blood, their screams, oh their SCREAMS!." Your harsh roars rip into the night and into the queen's ear, still choking her you force her to watch the massacre of her most beloved family members. The third moon Ozma, hangs overhead, glistening red, the lone watcher in a night with no stars. Below you can see Grism, a massive Eater, rippling with muscle and contempt, he kicks the king to the ground, and raises both his head and grimsteel hatchet to you. A manic laugh explodes from your throat, as you force the queen.
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