05-07-2020, 03:08 PM
there’s no part of scripture that ever prepared you for his hands - hands that map
a communion in the cradle of your hips. hands that kiss hymns up your sides.
and, oh, you put him on his knees.
a communion in the cradle of your hips. hands that kiss hymns up your sides.
She had considered simply returning to the far corners of Taiga where she could be alone with her remaining family once more. Her soul is restless, though and she finds herself remaining nearby the bickering population. Their voices keep her turbulent thoughts away and living vicariously through them is rather nice. Virgo watches with tired eyes as they mull about and gossip, or otherwise go on about their day. But there is someone a little farther away from the others she does not recognize. Curious. Did the commotion draw him here too?
Her gaze darts to the girl who shouts, a little wolf that is equally foreign to her. When she was still a small child, the predators were exactly what they seemed. A quiet laugh fills her chest as she draws closer to the pair. This one becomes a little filly, though, and that change no longer shocks Virgo anymore. She’s rather cute, or maybe the barbed woman just has a soft spot for younger generations these days. Becoming a mother had made her a pushover, in some ways.
“You should introduce yourself when you meet someone new,” she states with a half smirk across her pale face. “My name is Virgo. Who are you, Storm Eyes?”
Her attention drifts back to Voracity then, studying the brows furrowed in concern and the posture so weighed down by troubled thoughts. She has always had a penchant for giving out nicknames and time has not changed this habit.
Her gaze darts to the girl who shouts, a little wolf that is equally foreign to her. When she was still a small child, the predators were exactly what they seemed. A quiet laugh fills her chest as she draws closer to the pair. This one becomes a little filly, though, and that change no longer shocks Virgo anymore. She’s rather cute, or maybe the barbed woman just has a soft spot for younger generations these days. Becoming a mother had made her a pushover, in some ways.
“You should introduce yourself when you meet someone new,” she states with a half smirk across her pale face. “My name is Virgo. Who are you, Storm Eyes?”
Her attention drifts back to Voracity then, studying the brows furrowed in concern and the posture so weighed down by troubled thoughts. She has always had a penchant for giving out nicknames and time has not changed this habit.
Virgo
he confesses how long he’s looked for a place to worshipand, oh, you put him on his knees.