Entropy couldn't be thwarted; its putrid grasp may only be deferred. It was this truth that steered the crimson menace. A realization that the clock was always ticking. And while the commoners went about their days oblivious of that imminent armageddon, Samara felt inclined to be proactive against the inescapable twilight. Most sovereigns sought to advance their temporal pursuances, operating under the fallacy that is world dominion. What inanity, a goal that, even if realized, would mean little when the clock strikes midnight. The conquest of the desert was merely a step up the ladder, its subjugation a modest feat that secured nothing but additional time. Time, if not appropriately managed, would substantiate itself of little significance.
However, notwithstanding the jezebel's prowess and influence, she couldn't achieve her objectives alone. And so Samara sought to procure partnerships from the denizens of this blighted wasteland and put into place a system. This mode would divide the wheat from the chaff, a systemization that facilitated the cream of the crop to lord over their lesser brethren. She knew many would dispute the soundness of her designs. And anathematize it all they wish; one need only gawk back into the past to see the imbecility inherent to such naysayers. If they were to claw themselves out of this cycle of ruination, meritocracy would function as their only lifeline. And while morally dubious, her reign will spark the embers necessary to fuel their ascent.
The lioness had a grand vision, a unique ideal that few could understand if uttered aloud. There was one true nemesis in Samara's prudent mind, the same scourge that eradicated countless histories before. A swelling squall that scoured the universe clean, usurping all that was while scrubbing the macrocosm of any testimonials. And it was this death that horrified her the most. Another cycle in which her deeds faded into oblivion while she was incarcerated and forced to wait in the darkness. What was her calling? What was it that stoked the aspirations of this enchantress? The answer was simple, the defying of that undying pattern.
She stood there, peeking out from the terrace of the chateau. Those jewels of topaz took in how much Anzhela had achieved under her investments. These bees were an industrious race, constantly toiling away toward the next goal in their ever-growing checklist. Their work ethic was admirable, quickly propelling them to new zeniths and more dangerously within the sphinx's sights. Their polygamous liaison was titillating, not just to wanton hankerings, but more to the plethron of potentialities seeded 'neath the veneer. And the longer she studied their bustling municipality, the more prominent her bosom inflated with dignity. This city of "gold" and waterfalls stood as a gospel to what few could accomplish if those lesser labored under their yoke.
This bovinite would stretch out her hand, grasping that banister as her talons of gold enveloped the metallic bar. The binary suns hung overhead, casting down their luster and heat onto the desert. The tops of the various buildings strewn throughout the metropolis appeared to shimmer, radiating like a twinkling star. The din of a lively city brought solace to the exhausted ruler, inspiring the claret beauty to simper. The mistress hadn't arrived here to admire the vista but to discuss business with the matriarch of this hive. Nevertheless, this didn't exclude the tantalizing prospect of commingling business with pleasure. And so, rather smugly and vainly, she draped her hedonistic sculpture with the finest threads of the land. Samara bedecked herself in a black and translucent habiliment, with gold flakes emulating the stars across an evening firmament. Upon her forehead sat a crescent marking, while other precious metals in the form of jewelry adhered across that voluptuary figure. The jezebel's feet were shielded by stone heels, dark and reflective as obsidian. And creeping up from the base of that glorious footwear was a tide of gold appearing like that of grains of sands expelled up by the wind. The queen snickered, pouring herself a glass of wine with that free hand. All the while, she relaxed under the crooning of birds lured to this city due to their success. The redolence of that libation of choice teased her nostrils. The temptress grinned as she swiveled the fermented berry juice within that glass.
Such worldly amenities were infrequent and, whenever savored, were done so with tremendous appreciation. Samara supped from that glass, leaving behind the stains of her lipstick on its surface. Daintily, her fingers held the stem of that receptacle, once more circling the fluid inside as her spaded tail swayed from a feeling of endorsement. Nevertheless, even this inebriating juice failed to compare to the intoxication derived from their joint ventures. And whatever was behind this summons, be it a status report or discussing plans. The heifer was convinced it would end pleasantly. There were few as dependable, competent, and beguiling as the foreigner that she shared her bed with some nights. And rather than chafe over what was to transpire, she'd unwind and await her playthings entrance with a held breath.
Anzhela's arrival wouldn't have gone unnoticed. The bee had a unique fragrance, and the din of those footfalls was anything but muffled. Nonetheless, the claret jezebel would remain steadfast in her posture rather than turn around. Those previous ruminations were shelved, a brief hiatus that supplied a much-needed modification in atmopshere. Samara silently stood there, her monarchical threads and ashen hair dancing in the mild breeze. The revivified air and vibrant vista only further commended their meeting. Upon that terrace, the two roosted above the proletariats that were toiling about their standard routine.
Samara found it funny. From this vantage point, they appeared akin to ants. Such thoughts wouldn't persist for long, promptly whisked away as quickly as they had formulated. Outwardly, the crimson menace emerged as unperturbed. Yet, underneath that exterior, she was elated to have the opportunity to spend the day with her partner. The mistress of this hive had quite the debt, and her delinquency necessitated a degree of expenditure to rectify. Nevertheless, the restitution she slaked for wasn't monetary, but something radically different. Silently she'd hearken to the insectoid's hummings, scrutinizing each syllable before wiggling that nose.
The sovereign of the Ahn'Khali likely knew what such a gesture insinuated, that something she said had abraded her graceful ballerina. Regardless, that welcoming kiss would find itself connecting with her cheek. The two now stood alongside one another, taking in the marvel begotten through their drudgeries. Samara circled that glass of wine, taking in its scent as it melded with Anzhela's aroma. The fusion was quite the bouquet, one that the bovine esteemed. She took in another sip, it was then that her spaded tail would whip itself across Anzhela's bulbous rear. The spanking was playful yet hard enough to warrant her wife's undivided attention.
"My children? I think you meant to say...our children."
That once thrashing appendage coiled around the bee's waist, tugging her close while the lioness's sols peered from the corner of her eye at the woman. Smugly, she'd chortle before rotating that wine glass once more while she leaned into her mate.
"The wine always taste better when you pour it."
Samara placed the receptacle on the railing, her golden painted claws tracing the cup's rim as she coquettishly nictated in a ever salacious fashion.
"Ah, yes. It appears after inserting my dominance into their king, I've been graced with the title of queen and their fealty. A good impaling was all it took to bring them to their knees. If only I could find a mage capable of remedying their stench. Regardless, I rather not spoil our time together by focusing on such unpleasantness."
The bovinite turned around, her tail forcing Anzhela close so that their bosoms pressed against one another. Samara didn't care if her sudden activities caused the hive leader to spill some wine i any was being poured. Now, intimately close, she'd run her talon down the jowl and to the chin before suggesting Anzhela gaze into the pulsating eyes of topaz.
"You look exceedingly ravishing this day."
The lioness leaned in, pressing those succulent lips together so the two might experience a much-needed exchange. Passionately and with a gentle moo, their tongues would dance as they'd experience one another's taste. Samara huffed while breaking that seal with an audible pop and a fiendish grin.
"How I've longed for those uncleaned lips."
Samara's hands spanked her rear only to then clutch that thorax, giving it a proper squeeze.
"Hmm, it seems you've gotten fat. But in all the right places."
Shaking her hands, the queen would jiggle the shapely rump before letting Anzhela go and retiring those eyes to that wine glass.
"Sorry, I lose control when I'm so sensitive due to neglect. I doubt you requested my presence just to admire this desert rose. By all means, continue with the show and tell."
Days and nights passed as the bees labored to build the almost utopian city, forged not by the delusions of self but rather for the hive. And the Queen was no less subject to its requirements as beneath the grand city commenced the research towards the wonders of plasma. The challenges the mysterious force poses brought forth interesting complications and solutions as well as ideas stemming from them. With enough trial and error came success, bringing more than what was originally thought to be possible with the substance. Due to the seemingly alien nature of the force, a method had to be developed to better ascertain its properties. It behaved bizarrely near certain materials, making the process of determining how to harness it even more difficult. There was still much to learn and the method must be refined, but where progress was made came the fruits of her labor.
The succulents were now open to be shared with the Hive Queen's wife. The bee adorned herself with a black and gold dress, patterned with hexagons resembling the species upbringings. Anzhela has a demonstration to perform, and while the insect was intimate with the ruler of the sands, the Ahn'Khali wouldn't stomach meeting a lower standard. The handmaidens under the hive's dominion ensured that by themselves, knowing its importance to the hive and leaving their mother free to devote the mental resources to the collective's higher functions. With a gesture of gratification, the woman dismissed the dutiful servants to their other responsibilities so that the meeting may go undisturbed. There was much to discuss and those wings almost fluttered with restrained emotions.
With a graceful stride, Anzhela met up with her soulmate on the terrace of their resort away from the main palace. Quietly, the Hive Queen approached from behind the teifling as the bee would gently embrace the Crimson Jewel around the waist. Bringing her head next to the Queen's own, the amber hues would take in the scenery from a similar perspective. A city not just created by the labors of their own, but their children's hands for the hive. It was a sight that brought a swelling pride to any mother, to see the glimmering waters and rooftops against the binary suns' unrelenting gaze.
"It's a beautiful sight, isn't it? To see something created not just by your hands, but your children's as well."
The Ahn'Khali Queen would gently speak, before planting a kiss upon Samara's cheek.
"I trust your journey went well? There is much to show and go through, and it would be rather rude of me not to offer time of respite first. After all, I did get word of those… lizards. It didn't cross my mind that the subjects of the sands would stoop to such a low level."
Anzhela continued to be somewhat perplexed by the event that transpired that day, though given this barren wasteland, a rule applied. If it could happen, it will eventually.