For Glory, For Empire
The grove idyllic surrounds a pond unlike anything else in this jungle perverse. Water lilies white, blue, and purple float ephemeral; saffron, screw pines, and musk; senses overwhelmed.
A delicate figure rises from the water, her long ears tapering to points above her head, her beauty painful in its perfection.
Twelve attentive eyes turned libidinous take in the figure to the point of uncomprehending. Vision transformed, a new sense of a far demimonde, an echo of this Realm, full of primal sounds, instincts, smells, urges. That place calls in a way no home can. You must go to there. To run, to chase, to hunt, to kill.
The delicate figure smiles feral and unconscious.