How the times change, changing for better and for worse. It seems as if the inhabitance of these regions have faltered, the shadow slowly drifting away. Like a ship that has set sail, never to return to its Warf. The rope makers, the cobblers, they all watch their work take sail. But were have the rope makers and cobblers gone? Such a shame, perhaps the lady shall take hold of the shadow, slender fingers slipping over the dense black. The tendons in the wrist contract, the pull beginning. Do you feel your hide suddenly cloaked, the light beams running as if their being depended on such. The shadow has begun to return, decay trailing behind. The hand of insanity, the hand of all that is wrong brushed against the residence, let the old emerge form the state of submergence. Nares doused in coal set a flare, occulie of almond surveying the plot at hand. A fore was stolen from the idle state, lifting and curling. In the vinals of concealence, she had remained, but this state was to shift. Tendons pulled and tugged so gently, a step taken from the thick. Plush piercing the shadow of her own cloaking, the front end began to emerge. Like the murderer entering the courtroom, she remained silent. The ivory glazed found the geo, the opposing column repeating the act of its partner. Beam of toned stature flickered, thrusting from side to side above the rippling torso. Shades drew upon the pools, only for a slight moment however. The blinding light, the blinding light to be smothered. The shadow trailed, nipping at her hocks. Arm of bark coating began to shake, tremble upon her leavence. Whispers of the kaze, curling upon her auds. Pleading for her presence, pleading for the halt of movement. The trailing kept moving, her wake unwavering. Shakles chained to the hind snapped, tapping geo in a sense of defiance. The dull tint upon the silks seems to mesh with the loam, slurred with the rouge and suffering of the past. Apex rose, the shades once drawn, glare moving upon the corridor of her choosing. Silky threads twisted and twined, spun into threads of ebon dipping. Roses are red, violets are blue. Don't look now, all eyes are on you. Do you realize the oath you have taken, do you really? The countess of all sanity, the Barron of the guard. A rare gem, the rare gem has traveled far.She is like water, slipping through your fingers. Unable to sit still, unable to remain in one place. Moulin, her dubbance to fit. The little lea, come and watch.

Ah the silver lass, Moulin. Glorious as it comes, horrid as sin. Everything you could hate in a being, oh she possesed every single one of those traits. Down to the last greedy morsel of seductry, Moulin was as rotten as they came. Twirling around countless stags, shredding each heart to a million little pieces. She enjoyed every minuet of this little games, right up until the part where she closed in for the kill. Hearing each death moan, she had collected each little sound bite. In her memories they would forever remain. Locked away. A serpintes hiss sounded as she snaked through the array of anorexic timber, the stagless aromas pleasing her. Alone. Solitude. Not a soul to answer to or take in their constant nagging tones. It was marvelious. Dentals began to click, silver titaniums leaving her own precious signature in the dank sod. The scent of decay running through her genorators, she continued searching through this terrian. Shrouded in darkness, riddled with an array of misfortunes. But what was missing? Ah. Everything was missing. Out of place. It's time to mess it up. The breath of a new breeze toyed with her, nipping the nape of the neck as the cool was placed, rushing through her flesh. Weaving thorugh the mysteries of what was soon to come, her presense called upon to this particular place. "Entertain me." She whispered into the passing breeze, silent steps leading her through her ruling lands.

Blackened leafs swirled around ivory hocks, nasals of the sinful wench flaring. Like the city of sin, Babylon the great, her people would drink from her cup of adulteries. Scorned by the heavens, forced into the lake of burning sulfur. She was the winged woman birthing the beast, the one hiding away in that mountainous region for so long. Before rising to power, the townsmen running to her in a feverish manner. Kissing bleached peds, drowning in her own precious possessions. But you know what, this city hasn't found its revelation, yet. Hushed cries of agony found her auds, a clear grin forming as the noises grew louder and louder. Her people. Ah. Yes, they had such a delicious scream no? The many death moans and groans sounding, the unmistakable stench. This was the dark lands, and forever these lands would be ruled with an iron scepter. Enflamed in all its glory. So now she supposevly had some pathetic kind chained to her hip, the name still unvoiced. Lappets swiveled, grinding into her scullery as the crunching steps of one where heard. She refused to turn, allowing the brute to enter without greeting. Dial tossed to the side slightly, dripping downwards to an arch. Kinky locks pasted to her neck line, the waterfall of ivory seeping down past the shoulders. The stench was somewhat familiar as she felt the beating organ through her hooves, the warmth of circulating blood. She could sense the live settling at her side, feeling the pulse through the great jugular. Oh, don’t test her, she is far too hard to control. <i>"Moulin, it's been awhile."</i> He started, her glance shot his way. But what was this, a familiar face. Kraven. Son of the damn Prada. Ah, do you know what drove this dear Moulin from the father of this brute? He was just so, she could not put her finger on it. She had him wrapped around her little finger, and then she left. Simple as that. Perhaps it was the lack of a challenge, yes that was it. She had also known this boys mother, Champane. Moulin had taken her for a spin but once, she never received a sharp note from the wench again. Ah but Kraven was just a little one the last time she saw, he had now aged with time. As Moulin, her youthful glow however decided to cling. Immortality given by these walls preserving her state. How lucky are you?

”Don’t get ahead of yourself Kraven.”

She cooed in a tempting tone, enamels glinting in the dim lighting. He had grown much, very much. Ah but the looks of Prada clearly stared her down, the toothy grin coming to her mind. A low snarl sounded as she caught this look, instantly turning for a moment. But then a grin folded, a sly remark finding her auds.<i> “"You haven't lost your touch"</i> She turned back, eyeing this brute.

”That would be a damn shame now wouldn’t it?”

She hissed, enamels catching the flank of the passing brute. Encircling her as if she where a piece of meat. Oh but she was, grab your fork and table knife. She eyed him once more as he stood before her, and so far, she approved of what she saw. His head was firmly planted upon his shoulders. Seemingly thinking with the one with two instead of one eye. She had never been a loyal one at the least, but, one can always change now cant they?

Moulin watched this brute stand in silence as if he had been pondering a sly reply. But she could tell he was off in some other reality, occuli glazed over as he imagined. Moulin couldn't help but wonder what the ebon fool was thinking. Lappets began to flatten, nares flaring in annoyance. A fore curled and began to rise. Sharp point glaring at the sod as her knee buckled. But then all of a sudden the fore shot back to the geo in one forceful motion, jawls clenching. Her flicker of rage had left its mark upon her own chosen square of loam, long thin cracks bursting from the U shaped pattern. Like a monohued sunburst, decaying somehow. Dial snaked forward slightly, a hiss sounding as her dial swayed from side to side. Striking pools boring into those of Kraven, attempting to snatch whatever she could from the brute. She noticed the simple flex of the jawls, the tendon poking through slightly. On the defense one would say, oh but she wasn't. Moulin my dear was indeed not the defender, but the antagonizer. "Ahh yes, it would be." Lappets flattened once more, dial snapping to the side as she suddenly refused to gaze upon the stag.

From the corner of her eye she spied the brute etching forwards, nearing her ivory flesh. Tendons began to contract, bodice able to twist away at any given moment. Threadings falling thick over the right side of her arched serpintine, she remained still. A deep ex exhale of carbon curling around ebon nairs, she was growing bored. A short cackle sounded as Kraven struck some idiotic pose, squared off as if he where preparing for a brawl. Oh my boy, dont kid yourself. It would be such a shame to be beaten by a nymph now wouldn't it? Labriums began to curl, brail forming upon the nape of Moulin. "Join me Moulin Rouge, as my Queen." So he had offered what she had already received, hah. Dial swayed as she eased into step once more as Kraven continued to speak. "And we will make he|| among these lands, Acerbus" A sharp chuckle sounded as he finished, immidietly halting as she spoke. Dial cranking to the side, ivory locks whipping against her cheek plate as her tones sounded. "I am not sure you understand Kraven. This position you speak of has been long claimed by me, hah, long before your carcass decided to appear." She stepped forward once more, tones continuing. "But perhaps Kraven, my presence will linger at your shoulder." She allowed the wordings to sink in, a little hope for the fawn. "However, don't think this linger will shift to a cling, this job of ruling can be easily done by one." She snapped, a challenge perhaps coming from this. Watch your back Kraven.

Oddly enough, he continued to poke and prod at her own bleachen flesh. Enamels rubbing against her spinal as she passed, a warning note sounding. Shackles snapping against his ebon flank as she passed, lappets flattening in distaste. Her own ivories struck out against the bulging shoulder of Kraven before a lunge carried her away. Dancing pistons carrying her many feet away before a tempting glance was shot backwards.

She was amused by this brute. He had the constant facial expression of pondering or scheming. Slimy snake.

[saveee, i must sleep]