The diva never felt beautiful as a child. Her abnormal appendage often made her the focus of ridicule. Those who weren't repulsed fetishized her body. An act so dehumanizing that the monk quarreled over which extreme was worse. Florentina had long since gathered that Lyra spoke the truth. There was a glow to those eyes. A form of deification that transcended the realm of depravity. Before she crossed paths with Lyra, Flora shared her bed with many dames—tending to the flesh brought an ephemeral sense of satisfaction. Invariably, they'd depart, and the hole would return. She had drowned herself in exercise and work as a method of coping. Such an approach spun a negative into a positive force, yet it wasn't a proper remedy. That elusive and phantom pain had gone silent since she opened her heart to the centaur. Flora smiled. The compliment brought a sense of vulnerability that the diva hadn't felt in some time. Her malachite spheres studied the caramel beaut. It was a difficult thing not to breed her where she stood. But she abstained from tainting the moment, regarding this wink as hallow. Her tongue sketched those succulent lips, moisturizing them as her bosom rose and sank due to a heavy sigh. "I feel weak near you. Don't fret, it is a good kind of vulnerability." Florentina paused, unsure if she had communicated that well enough. Fighting was easy, but this sentimental theatre wasn't exactly her forte. She felt as competent at making informed and beneficial life decisions as Garnot. That is to say, Florentina felt she was bungling it. Lyra deserved better. Yet, somehow, she settled on this broken flesh and withered soul. Perhaps out of selfishness, the nude giant refused to let her go. Fearful that her absence would bring back those voices. Flora felt at home, something she hadn't known since before her chest swelled from womanhood. Florentina remained silent as her broodmare worked on her golden mane. Her soft, volume-enriched locks were easy to work with. The winsome experience caused the giant's twin heart to beat rapidly. Her green eyes endeavored to gaze at Lyra's beautiful face throughout the intimate affair. Lyra didn't retreat or balk at the diva's admission. Instead, she seemed to take it all in. Was this support? Or, maybe the muteness was temporary as the mare tactfully considered how to sidestep the commentary. The response eventually materialized, albeit caked in poetic allegory and metaphors. The monk wasn't shocked; her love was far more romantic and inclined to matters of the heart—one of many things that merited her fondness for the centaur. The mare's remark concerning brain power caused the blonde to frown. Florentina shook her head out of protest before reaching her strong hands over and grabbing and squeezing her hind. She settled her head against Lyra's as those domineering and predatory emeralds stared into the centaur's soul. A moment of silence came before she felt compelled to break it. "Don't speak so ill of yourself. Your mind is as beautiful as your..." She paused, her split tongue once more delignating across her plump lips as her hand gave a firm squeeze, pulling her close. "...as your body." As usual, Florentina's flirting wasn't subtle and had all the grace of a bull in a china shop. Her deportment and tone left no room for murkiness. "You will make a fine queen and mother. You're what will keep me anchored and balanced. What I lack, you complete. I don't want another strategist or warrior. No, I want only you. You have no clue how challenging it is not to ravage you within our garden. I see the one thing I never deserved in you:: a family and future outside the battlefield. " She added before averting her gaze; the blonde wondered if she came across as pathetic to Lyra. "A general is nothing without those under her command. What use is it to conquer the world if it means sitting on top alone?" Flora remarked as her free hand trailed up Lyra's stomach before cupping her cheek. The thumb caressed it as she gave her rear end a loud and forceful slap. "I care and sacrifice for all those under my banner. That includes your people. They're mine now. I made a vow, don't you remember? I intend to remain faithful to my word. I must admit, when we first wrestled in the woods, I intended to walk away. I am glad I didn't. I then thought I would break you for power. And while I did, I now see the short-sightedness I once had. Your tribe could disown you and walk away, and I'll still be here by your side. For some things are more valuable than victory, power, or wealth." Her nether region was stimulated due to Lyra's proximity. "I'm, of course, referring to you, to us, to this. So no matter how this may end. Should we fail or accomplish this crusade. I am thankful, thankful to have met you and have your hooves by my side." Flora concluded before biting her lip. Secretly, she was fearful that her words failed to paint a satisfactory illustration. Fucking and fighting were so much easier than matters pertaining to the heart. Maybe that's why she was a bit grabby and demanding.

Florentina felt a bond with the biodome around them. The bog was a place filled with rot and decay. Its antagonistic environment overshadowed the beauty hidden within. It reminded the diva of the battlefield and the life of a soldier. Individuals who sacrificed everything, yet they were quickly discarded once they had served their purpose. She was no different, a pawn to the system of conflict that fueled civilization. She bled to water the soil for the commoner. However, even the peasants omitted the names of prior battles and the dead. She grew tired of their carcasses serving as the building blocks of empires. Outwardly, many would feign appreciation during set times of the year. Most did so to appear virtuous. Her suffering and those of her comrades had become routine. The world is desensitized to the violence of war. And the people are so far removed that they romanticize it for amusement. Florentina, however, couldn't forget the scores of dead—soldiers whose names would never ring through the history pages. The blonde could hear their screams. The scars of yesteryear conflicts sent a phantom pain across an otherwise healthy body. If it weren't for Lyra, nothing would mute the wails or unbearable pain. However, could she bring herself to open up? And, if she did, would the mare even care? Those dreary thoughts were cast aside, her green eyes watching her wife as she pranced. Her merriment was infectious, something the blonde refused to display. The sincerity of her words and the kissing of her arm weakened those exterior walls. Her chest felt heavy, the burden she bore crushing her ribs as she managed to muster forth a smile. The monk was outside her element and would do something she had rarely done. She'd take a leap of faith. Florentina raised her hand, cupping Lyra's cheek before giving it a pinch and a playful tug. "I have no mane, but perhaps you can braid my hair." She added, surrendering herself to the customs of the centaurs. A gesture that exceeded selfish aims as the giantess took a knee next to Lyra. Her hands dropped as those malachite orbs veered at the guardian. "I killed my sisters. I did so out of honor and duty. However, ever since then, I've been dead. I hadn't felt a tinge of life in my heart or soul until I met you. While pleasant, I wonder if this can truly last." She spoke with a shrug. "I learned early on that the life of a soldier isn't glorious. Few of our names are ever recalled. Our memories dry up quicker than the ink that stains the annotation of our deaths. Our sacrifice has become the domain of entertainment. The only time we're remembered by society is during holidays. Even then, only in a general sense. Most who participate use it not as a way to pay reverence but to stoke their self-righteousness. A soldier's life is one of sacrifice. It's an existence of bearing the worst facets of human nature. We bottle it up and march ahead without any certainty." The diva added as her hand rested over a scar on her abdomen. "I feel it; the pain is unending, just like the season. I hear them, their screams, their demands for justice. Maybe I can't make the world give back their lives. But I can make the world remember. That's why I set out on my own. I seek to build a paradise where warriors won't be forgotten. A pain that all soldiers fear and all will know. A truth we seldom whisper but acknowledge when alone and in our darkest hours that our sacrifices are meaningless. All anyone ever cares about is maintaining the status quo, their little slice of life. And none can appreciate life and their nation like those who have sacrificed for their native land." She added before drifting to silence as she pondered. Flora eventually looked toward Lyra, offering the same smile as before. However, this time, she might finally witness that faint glint behind the facade. It wasn't an expression of joy. But elation mixed with sorrow. "I am sharing my life. I apologize if it isn't full of sunshine and rainbows."

The prospect of alcohol and a meal sounded ideal. The diva was a bit peckish from her time on the road. Florentina was rationing her supplies, which meant limiting her intake of nourishment. She knew little about centaur cuisine, but she wasn't a picky eater. Her green eyes moved toward the mare the monk had defiled. Their species was different, so she saw little reason to pull out. The giantess was blissfully unaware of the grave miscalculation. Once more, the dame showered her with compliments. Flattery would get Lyra everywhere, something Flora needn't comment on, given it was obvious. A wide smirk stretched across her dirt-stained face. Her body and boots divulged the rugged terrain she had to trek through. The precise nature of her assignment remained a mystery. And try as Lyra may, the giantess was unlikely to disclose classified particulars. Florentina returned her focus to the parents, offering them a powerful slam of her monstrous fist against her bosom. A gesture of respect. It was likely ringing a bit hollow without the shared cultural significance. "Your daughter's well-being will be my priority." She vowed, her conviction alluding to the fact the diva was a lady of her word. The blonde looked a bit confused as Zola. Did she think they'd be swimming? No, Florentina would call on her navy with enough vessels to transport the tribe safely. That act wasn't without selfish aims. Even now, the tactician spotted the advantage they'd bring to her ever-growing nation. Everything she had done so far was calculated. And the fruits of her labor were juicy indeed. "We'll discuss the specifics at a later wink. For now, I wish to see for myself how the centaur rejoice." Florentina rested her large hand on Lyra's back. A gesticulation of support that scoured away any doubt. Her hand ran up and down her spine while Zola finished speaking. She had her reservations but deduced it prudent to see if what she uttered was true. That flirtatious mare leaned into her. Lyra's proximity flooded the insatiable brute's mind with lascivious wants. However, she abstained from acting on them. Flora smiled, uncertain how to react to that promise. Many women have said such honeyed words, yet few lasted. Could this one be any different? Her logical side wanted to remain skeptical, but her heart convinced her to cling to faith. The belief that the broodmare was really the one. That she was the moon and star by which she will live by. "You're awfully close. I wonder, are you afraid someone else might snatch me." She joked. Her malachite eyes took in their surroundings before she presented a shrug. "Sorry, I only see you..." The diva purred while patting her back with a bit of force to hopefully catch Lyra off guard. Florentina moved closer, bumping her hips against the brood mare's shoulders before ruffling her hair. A mischievous act, one she was curious to see how Lyra might react. "Come, lead me to where we might roost. I wish to stay close to you." She concluded the strategist wondered how the equine might pass the time. Would Lyra feed her, pour her drink, caress her sour muscles, or scrub her clean from the begrime of her travels? Perhaps she'd instead regale her with stories or conversation? Whatever might transpire, the giantess was game. The way she saw it, even if Lyra were using her. She'd enjoy the perks that came along with it. And if this was a form of cruel treatment, then sign her up for some more.

There was something primal about carrying around and protecting her broodmare. It supplied the diva with a sense of repletion she seldom experienced. Florentina smirked at Lyra's humbling remarks. The commentary made her heart flutter, although she'd abstain from exhibiting such elation. Those malachite eyes glanced at her betrothed while those muscles flexed during their transient stroll. The willows rendered shade from the morning suns while the bog life's crooning cheeped around them, forming a befitting ensemble. The giantess was inept at such romantic dealings. Flo's time spent on the others was mainly focused on assuaging wanton pursuances. She regarded this as a challenge she'd conquer like all other hurdles that were sprawled out across her path. Her eyes roved away from the centaur; Lyra's fondness for flowers and expertise wasn't something she could reciprocate. She never had a green thumb, so she employed others to tend to her property. The distinguished warrior considered portraying an air of confidence but ultimately decided against it. Lyra deserved honesty, so she'd supply that in spades. "I don't know much about plant life. That's why I paid others to tend to my garden. Trust me, if I touch the plants, they'll only wither. I trust your expertise; you have a passion for such things. You take charge of such affairs, and I'll dispose of any who dare bother my wife. You need only point the way." She retorted, embracing her brutish role. Florentina felt no chagrin; her breasts even rose from pride as she flexed those muscles. A habit of hers, a method by which she lent credibility to those declarations. Her lips shifted into a broad smile as the morning light shone against her face. The diva's nose wiggled as Garnot's repugnant stench still filled them. She mulled silently, trying to justify why she had tolerated his childish antics for so long. While simultaneously deliberating on how to break the news to Casimir? Her actions would have consequences, and she may have tarnished their friendship by behaving so protectively of her tender mare. Lyra's gentle caressing scoured away such doubt. Whatever the cost, Flora believed she had chosen wisely. After all, her loyalty belonged to Lyra before all else. Their union brought much doubt to her mind. Could she be an adequate partner? Would she be able to navigate this emotional minefield without causing harm? And were the two even compatible when it came to producing heirs? The answers, while uncertain, remained immaterial. In the end, she was confident their relationship would bloom. "Whatever you need to expand your horizons, I'll supply. I have the resources." She remarked, endeavoring to instill some additional confidence in Lyra. Florentina had postponed addressing those initial comments. But she couldn't circumvent it forever lest she risk offense. And so the giantess would reply, albeit uncertain how. "I know you cherish me. I see it in how you look and move around me. It's...intoxicating. My sweet broodmare, I will wed you as I pledged. Not because I said so among your people. But because I want to. Still, I don't know your ways or customs. What must I do to surrender myself to your hooves? I'll stampede and break the foundations of this world if it's required." She spoke with confidence before smirking. Her large hand rubbed Lyra's back as she hunched slightly forward. The need to ravage her as a queen should be kept at bay. There would be time for such lewdness; now was not one of them. No, she'd cherish the winsome morning. And not allow Garnot's insignificance to tarnish what was maturing into a most serendipitous wink.

Sheet updated

The diva merely offered the gesture as a formality. If the tribe had denied her Lyra, it would have changed little. Florentina wasn't one to capitulate to authority bereft of power. Fortunately, the giantess needn't devolve into brutality. It's a shame; she could have used a good fight. However, it didn't take a savant to see such an application of force may have sullied their relationship. The blonde looked down at her broodmare as she forced a little quip. Flora was confident she'd eat and drink the tribe into ruin. There were few women out there like her. Something that drove the giant to consider herself unique, even from a young age. Nevertheless, the monk wouldn't refuse this celebration. If nothing else, it would be an excellent way to gauge how much liquor these centaurs could handle. Those malachite eyes returned to the father. Ambroise presented himself as abundantly tolerant. Could it be that this tribe regarded sexuality in the same light as the Jorgenskulls? Are matters pertaining to the flesh and heart meant to be enjoyed and not shunned? How invigorating. Perhaps these hooved ones knew how to party after all? Whatever the case, the chiseled dame wouldn't keep hush for long lest she leave room for offense. "Dashy?" She grinned brattily before looking toward Lyra. "How adorable. Why do I get the feeling its because you have a habit of charging headstrong intro trouble?" She jested. Florentina offered the smaller creatures a bow of appreciation. The gesture seemed universal in most parts and thus appeared tactful. "Thank you. It would be rude to deny your offer. However, be warned. I have drunk many before into bankruptcy. Regarding bigger bowls, I can shrink my size a bit. But I didn't bring clothes for that, and I doubt Lyra would appreciate me strutting around in the nude. I couldn't care less, but it isn't just about me anymore, now is it?" Something told the operative that her little mare was quite the jealous type. Still, the mental image of her kicking away the other equines to lay her stake was titillating and humorous. "Question, how do centaurs fair at sea travel? I ask because I believe that will be the safest, quickest, and easiest route for transportation. I can't say I've ever heard of your people possessing a navy. We can discuss such particulars after the celebration if you wish." The diva added before pulling Lyra close so that her head rested against her broad hip. The hidden connotations wouldn't remain obscure for the prized mare. But it wouldn't seem as suggestive or possessive from the onlookers' point of view. Flora combed her fingers through Lyra's mane as she waited. A modest show of affection that seemed unorthodox given her original approach to displaying interest. It was logical, given that she doubted the tribe was one for such a glorious public exhibition of love.

There was a gentleness to this mare that radiated comfort to the diva. Lyra was ever so diligent and considerate regarding her duties. Florentina wondered if there was a way to reciprocate that tenderness. She lacked such a soft approach—a fact reflected in her strong hands, chiseled build, and occupation. The giantess pondered if she deserved such a life partner. What had she done to be blessed with such a beauty? It was one doozy of a conundrum that she'd weigh in silence. Those malachite eyes studied Lyra as she spoke. Her words were melodious and reassuring, reminding Flora of her mother's crooning when she was but a toddler. The monk's eyes wandered over to the lifeless body of the human. Did Garnot rate such a privelege? As much as she wanted to chop him up and feed her raptor the bits, she'd ultimately yield. Her broodmare's happiness surpassed whatever disdain she felt toward the "knight." Could something beautiful truly bloom from something so repulsive? The very sentiment was intriguing, inspiring the blonde to mull in silence. If anyone wielded such magic, it would be that of her moon and star. Lyra may have been a bit too chipper, but Florentina wouldn't want her any other way. "The man has taken up enough space in my home. However, I suppose we should honor the circle of life. I doubt anything stunning can blossom from such squalid fertilizer. Nevertheless, I have faith you'll find a way to accomplish that miracle." The diva added before clearing her throat. A subtle indicator that she wasn't yet comfortable or confident in her ability to be romantic. The giant raised her brows from the shock that the centaur wanted to learn her people's craft. Most found their love for flesh and bone to be repulsive. Still, the mare couldn't manipulate the osseous materials property as she could. It was one of many benefits of being a giant—a trait they inherited due to the "taint" of their people. Perhaps Florentina could teach Lyra how to carve and fashion the skeletal parts into something practical. Whatever the case, she had never been so turned on by what another had said before. "I...I would like that very much. It isn't often someone outside the tribe wishes to learn of our traditions. I've experienced your touch and know you have pretty dexterous hands." The diva presented a toothy grin just as the hooved maiden galloped off. Florentina felt silly and awkward standing near the corpse alone. She felt remorseful, not toward the leech she had terminated. But her sympathy was aimed at Casimir. A hefty sigh was ousted from her succulent lips as she stared at her reflection in the pool of water. Her attention was quickly being robbed as Lyra returned with a towel and bucket. Lyra had once more humbled the giantess. The mere act of cleansing her body was an act of submission that spoke volumes. It removed any doubt that she had to wed this mare. Throughout the intimate session, Flora couldn't help but run her fingers through Lyra's hair. Those emerald eyes glinted as the sun rose over the horizon. There was something winsome about this snapshot, a wink that would perpetually be burnt onto the monk's memory. Once Lyra had finished cleansing that muscular temple, she'd lift her head by the chin to give a prolonged stare until the mare attended to the corpse. Those malachite gemstones couldn't remove their focus from the spectacle of her on all fours scrubbing the deck. "Before you moved in with me, I sometimes felt uncomfortable in my home. It was always noiseless and thus bereft of meaning." She paused, her feet shuffled as she turned to face the centaur and approached from behind as Lyra toiled. "Thank you. I don't know how I can repay your gentleness. I'll strive always to keep you happy." She purred before squatting, picking Lyra up, and resting her on those broad shoulders as Flora gradually rose. "Better. You have no clue how hard it is to restrain myself from breeding you when you're on all fours like that. Concerning the room, I suppose we will need it for the children. Garnot's disposal I leave up to you. Leave the garbage he left behind and breaking of the news to Casimir to me. But, I can't allow you to sully your hands with the moving of his body." The diva then whistled before rolling her split tongue. Two servants stepped onto the patio. Their eyes looked at their employer's nude figure and then the corpse. Without a word, they went to work lifting the body as Flora pointed to the garden along the perimeter of her abode. "Move him there; my wife wishes to use that husk to feed the plants." They'd carry the body down the steps as the giantess followed close behind. Her eyes peeked from the corner at Lyra while they traversed the backyard. Once the servants had dropped Garnot, she'd offer them a nod before squatting and holding that position. "You may get off if you wish. Don't worry about them. He isn't the first person to die in my house and likely won't be the last. I've had quite a turbulent past. Ladies, take the day off. Tell the others that I need to speak to them later to discuss compensation for his mishandling of you. Also, tell your sisters to let me know if someone lays a hand on you next time. You and the others have earned some time off before the wedding planning starts." The women bowed before returning inside, leaving the two alone in the backyard.

The two immortals maintained a tranquil demeanor throughout the ramblings of the others. For too long had they planned their return. The pair had faced many horrors to get to where they are today. It stood far-fetched that this group could strike them with fear. Watari may have been terrified of the diva. But the two men before him aired no such trepidation. Devante kept silent. His peach eyes remained vigilant as he watched them from behind. The human, however, would continue to be the voice for the duo. The general's disrespect had been forgiven. He couldn't fault the fox for his ignorance. History was fickled, often omitting many names as the globe rotated on its axis. Privately, he was a bit offended that Valerna hadn't preserved his name. Nevertheless, he reasoned it was best this way. Ignorance was a tool he could use should the need arise. "My name being recorded is irrelevant. Out of the three, I preferred to stick to myself. Regarding your assumption, it's correct. I strongly warn against picking a fight with him. It would help if you tried showing some of that respect you seem so fond of. Perhaps then it would be reciprocated." The dark skin man added before wandering his eyes over at Casimir. "Our eyes have been open since we awoke. It seems the defiled have returned, and someone or something unanchored them. If true, perhaps Cicilly wasn't as foolish as I formerly deduced. Regarding how long we've been studying you since you and the others tore a hole between the worlds. We initially thought that was the source of the echo we felt. However, it seems not to have been the case." He added with a nod. Florentina was a bit preoccupied with comforting her wife. It was this distraction that delayed her speech. However, it wasn't till after hearing his words that she'd finally chime in while brushing Lyra's tail. "Echo? If it wasn't the train, could it have been the moment I consumed the heart?" She pondered out loud. That statement motivated the human to raise his brows from curiosity. "You consumed what remained? Yet you're alive? Fascinating. Given its attunement to the temporal plane, we believed that no one could deplete it to such a degree. It seems we were gravely mistaken." Devante shifted as his comrade spoke. The nokhoi grumbled under his breath as he stepped forward. "The event we spoke of blinded us to such a development. That's troubling indeed. It would suggest the source of the echo was something far more powerful. We pulled you here because we followed the reverberations. But it seems you were not the source nor the defiled. But, whatever it is, it must be close by..." The fox added before looking over at Herbahn. Herbahn sighed as he turned to face the fireplace. "Something unnatural occurred—a monumental release of energy. It's a pity you were not the cause. That would have been convenient..." The diva tilted her head from confusion as she narrowed her eyes. Instictively she stepped forward to protect her broodmare as the undertones in his speech were ominous. "A pity? An echo? Mind speaking plainly." She demanded. Her decree was met with a scoff from Herbahn. "The echo was something I felt before when the eldritch edifice hovered over the land. Not exactly; it was vastly more thunderous this time. Almost as if it reached across the totality of the cosmos. And yes, it's a pity. Because if you're not the originator, we must decide how to maintain our secrecy. You now know too much. I'm sorry it's come to this. We can't have you blabbing off our return to your mother so soon. I'm not without kindness. I'll give you a moment to plead or say your farewells before I send you to your maker. You may struggle if you wish. However, it will be for naught. If you haven't noticed, this space is under my command. I doubt you're privy to the temporal theory necessary to contest my mastery." Herbahn words rubbed Devante the wrong way. The warrior fox stepped forward as he growled. "Herbahn, I thought we agreed not to head down this route? We had a deal." The human scoffed as he turned to face the group. "I've decided to rewrite our agreement. If I were you, I'd pray that I don't choose to alter it further. That is, unless they can make a case, why we should risk it?" The smug human lifted his hand. His palm facing outward as a bright light gathered within the center. "I'm sorry. I promise to make it painless..." Florentina's eyes opened wide as she felt a powerful gust pulled inward toward that glowing hand. "You bastard!" The blonde barked, only to blink from confusion as the brilliant light faded. Herbahn turned his focus away from the group and toward a vacant space. "Right on time. Sorry, but I figured if whatever we sensed had been nearby, drawing you in and attacking might have been the best way to draw it out. Casimir, wasn't it? You were right. Something else is at play. And now we get to see what that is together." Herbahn added. Florentina grabbed the apple Lyra had been eating and threw it away. "Sorry, but I don't think we should trust anything now. Stay close. I will use my body as a shield if worse comes to worse." She whispered before offering the mare a wink.

The diva felt little compunction to blanket the truth in pleasantry. The dire straits of the tribe's situation couldn't be understated. The world was changing, and if they didn't pivot, the centaurs were condemned to stampede off the cliff and into oblivion. Florentina could only utter the truth and pray they saw reason amidst the abrasive reality. The elder response was odd. There wasn't a hint of contempt regarding her approach, which boded well. Florentina momentarily wandered her green eyes over to the mare she had sullied. Lyra's womb belonged to her, a fact the diva didn't take lightly. The union of their flesh alluded to the prospect of an alliance. A chance meeting that culminated in fornication led the pair to this precipice. The blonde was using this woman. Something that was likely shared. In her eyes, true altruism and love were delusional sentiments. Feeble constructions of weak minds to discern meaning in their mediocre existence. However, when she gazed upon Lyra's countenance, Flora's conviction waned. The giantess discovered herself feeling odd. The two had sex, but the moments following their climax differed from her typical experiences. The inquisitor needn't dwell long on that point as the elder of the tribe spoke up. The equine rated her undivided attention as the monk hearkened to her response. The need to cast a vote seemed alien to her. The Jorgenskull never trusted such power and responsibility to the commoners. Florentina recalled her mother's thoughts on such a system. She labeled it foolish, citing that the masses lack the education and information to make such informed decisions. Nevertheless, the diva kept hushed and nodded as if endorsing this odd custom. One by one, the votes were tallied. Throughout the entirety of its counting, she couldn't help but feel uneasy. However, outwardly, the warrior appeared resolute throughout the ordeal. The elder silence and turning indicated that the moment had finally come. Flora entertained the possibility of killing them to save them from their poor decisions. A thought that led the diva to question how high the bodies needed to stack to make her point. Fortunately, she elected not to pursue such a sanguinary route. Instead, she swore to respect their decision for Lyra's sake. That uncharacteristic attribute of tolerance had paid off once the determination of their little election had been declared. It ended with he shaking of their hands. The blonde's sharp eyes took in the tribe that still encircled her. Their applause elicited no response. That air of conviction almost communicated a sense of trust. Trust that their people would make the right decision. Still, the monk felt she should say something and offer something to quell any distrust. Keeping hushed, she'd walk over to Lyra, standing by the mare's side before settling her hand on that rump. "Your gesture of goodwill shall be rewarded. I understand the decision must not have been an easy one. To ease any apprehensions, I'll keep this one by my side. Our flesh will join, a symbol of the union agreed upon this day. That way, one of your own will have my ear. A voice within the new world that represents centaur interest." Flora's chiseled sculpture stood proud even as she overtowered her little plaything. It was her way of making their little foray known. It is an excuse to make sense if they should be caught enjoying one another's company in the future. One thing was clear: the giant had no interest in letting this mare go. After all, she had an oath to fulfill. "I made a promise to Lyra. I intend to keep it. However, I can't do so without the blessing of her parents and the elders of the tribe." Thankfully, her armor concealed her arousal—a problem she'd have to tend to at a later hour and when alone.

The diva regarded the silencing of her speech as not an exhibition of power but a display of weakness. In her mind, it exemplified a primal fear, one unbecoming of an entity that epitomized bedlam. Comm'Orra may have wanted Florentina to panic. However, she'd refrain from supplying such satisfaction. Instead, her malachite eyes ignited with an inner fire. She resigned herself to a solemn vow that she'd one day enact revenge for this affrontery. Lyra's worry tugged at the diva's heartstrings. Those green eyes beheld guileless concern. Love, a word formerly absent from her vocabulary, now resided at the forefront of the colossus's mind. The peril of their present quagmire wasn't enough to chafe away her broodmare's deification. How demanding it was not to cave to her bestial propensities and make ardent love to her wife within this estate. A lesser bride would have fled or broken down at the spectacles of such horrors. And yet here Lyra was, resolute and by her partner's side. Watari's warning roused curiosity. Why did the lilliputian of a man fear her? He was a comrade and a reputable fellow for a sand chimp. Although she was curious to learn more about this time, he allegedly struck their host. Flora felt compelled to chide him for not finishing the highfalutin aristocrat during their first fray. Maybe Comm'Orra was impervious to death. A consideration that inexorably steered her thought to a subsequent question. Could he feel pain and fear? If so, she wouldn't mind spending an eternity afflicting the elder with both. The primordial heart the blonde had ingested had altered her cells. The monk could feel its ancient power drumming to a feral cadence. That vile energy coursed through her, a taint she sported with utter pride. Casimir's joke provided much-needed levity. That ephemeral calm eased the monk. Her mind was now free of concern as she drew on that profane artifact. Tranquility washed over her as she settled her hand on her wife's back. A silent signal meant to communicate that all would be well. Comm'Orra wasn't too pleased with his guests. The flamboyantly attired entity wagged his fingers to voice such disapproval. His free hand lifted and slammed that ornate cane against the floor to ensure he captivated their attention. "Watari, my boy, while I appreciate your honesty, your words wound me. Here, I thought we could make amends. Let bygones be bygones; despite what you may think, I'm not your adversary. Far from it, I'm a supporter of the devante's." The elder being looked over at Casimir. That golden mask concealed his expression and eyes. Nevertheless, a degree of dissatisfaction radiated. "Ah, a pun, how riveting. Regarding your question, my boy, allow me a moment to supply an answer. You're very much still alive. I've had my eye on you for a bit. A naughty one, aren't you? Some say curiosity killed the cat. However, in this instance, it almost eliminated the lot of you. I advise not licking nearby artifacts of unknown origin. It's bad manners and may have unintended side effects." The dapper chap added—a manner to inform Casimir that he was well aware of his antics in that laboratory. Comm'Orra veered his attention over to the centaur. "Mr.Comm'Orra? How quaint. Please refer to me as daddy comm—far less formal that way." He bowed before standing upright and looking over at the blonde. Florentina's stillness struck the elder as unexpected. He hummed lightly before flicking his wrist to materialize a pipe before he puffed away. "It seems you both have an investment in the savage. After carefully considering your requests, I've elected to ignore them. Don't worry, the brute will have her blabbering tongue freed once we're finished...probably." The entity shrugged, only for him to melt and rise from the floor ahead of them. His lanky figure leaned down as he stared into the equine. His hand reached out as it transformed into a sea of writhing centipedes. Those unorthodox extremities rubbed against Lyra cheek as if to console her. "My dear, none can protect you from me. Even your wife is a pa-" Comm's words were cut short as the diva had enough. Without hesitation, she sprung into action. Florentina sent her palm forward, colliding against his head while dropping her weight. Those fingers clenched his skull tightly before she slammed and erupted his cranium like a melon as it crashed against the floorboards. The giantess rose, the energy of the primordial heart coursing through her veins as the malediction Comm'Orra had placed on her was dispelled. "Don't touch my wife. Also, I don't know who you are. But you're not Comm'Orra. I've been to his realm once; it isn't the twilight manor. So drop the act and speak forthrightly. It's been a long day, and I don't have the patience for your games." Flora barked into the void. It was at that juncture that the body on the floor dissolved. And back by the fireplace stood a human. His skin was dark, and his build and face were surprisingly plain. Sand poured from the gaps between his armor. The stranger's brown eyes bounced across the room as footsteps echoed, and another figure emerged from the adjacent hall. This man was a kitsune; his hand rested on his katana as he stared at the three. "I should have expected nothing less from the daughter of Cicily Del'Henberheim. Sorry, I believe she goes by Valerna Jorgenskull now. It seems my ruse has finally failed me. I'm not Comm'Orra. I am Herbahn. And my partner here is Devante. Welcome home, sister."

The enigmatic figure stood inert yet ominously in the distance. Those stellar eyes burned continually with the four of four sols. An unremitting aura of apathy resonated outward—a miasma that brought the gravity of futility regarding their bravado. The fox had twice now assaulted its perspective. The barb provoked nothing as the tendrilled prawn exemplified a state of equilibrium. The dark void drifted like an inky cloud before it released a loud racket akin to the crashing of violent waves. "Confidence born from fatuity. The imminent pattern can merely be deferred. Your minds invoke imagery of grandeur. You presume that salvation exists outside of the ensemble. Ultimately, your courage is as devoid of substance as your future. Surrender your flesh and know true tranquility within our cradlesong, for what you know as the defiled aren't your destruction but redemption." Its voice echoed. If they studied closely, they might spot that the silhouette grew with each waning second. Monarch hummed, a melody that only swelled. Its focus was on the feline, who finally jettisoned the yoke of fear. It seemed the giantess words were a contagion. A deception that pointlessly inspired hope when there was none. Nevertheless, it would address Casimir as he did all the others through their colorless language. "Throughout your history, we've existed. Your myths crudely embodied us as phantoms—revenants, demons, apparitions, things that go bump in the night. We are the darkness of your fallible minds, the incomprehensible made flesh—the pinnacle of existence and creation. The people of your world thought they could defy the inevitable. They are now reborn and know peace everlasting. The slate being suppressed, unknown, or wiped clean is immaterial. Ultimately, it changes little. The consequences of this meeting exceed the breadth of your finite understanding. Throughout the collective record, those bearing our mark have accomplished incredible feats. Individuals of legend that have inspired your kind since you huddled around the first fire. The spider is one such individual. The fox imbues her as if she is a higher being. Ask yourself if a speck of our potential can effortlessly alter your world. What would the deluge to come leave in its wake?" The entity's approach would undoubtedly now be noticed. Its figure loomed ahead. Monarch's outline was visible as it stood five times taller than any tower. An ocean of tendrils comprised of intestines dangled from the pulsating lesions on its underbelly. Sacks of flesh pulsated, trickling its sordid solution into the unending expanse below them. Its carapace shifted hue with each movement as those dangling fleshly tendrils writhed. Affixed to their ends were fetuses. The mouths of these infants were the source of its speech. Five ligaments, like fingers but with pincers at the ends, dragged against the imperceptible ground that kept them suspended. A foghorn-like cry followed by a torrential downpour of screams reached their ears—an indecipherable cacophony of howls from all previous tongues Monarch had assimilated. Its skin bulged with the shape of humanoid figures undulating underneath its necrotic veneer. Florentina gawked up, unaffected as she had glimpsed worse during her battle with these abominations. In the distance, an innumerable amount of lights twinkled, resembling Monarch's four blazing orbs. The party could take in the totality of that three-dimensional space and wouldn't see many gaps regardless of where they turned. Those intestinal whips lashed down, but just before they could connect, everything went dark. Those brave souls wouldn't awaken where they had been plucked from. Instead, they would awaken within a Gothic manor, and before them was a table filled with a feast fit only for a king: meats, grains, fruit, and vegetables of all kinds. The crackling and smell of a fireplace would tease their senses, along with the distant sound of a string orchestra. A chair with its back facing them stood there as the sound of a book closing shut could be discerned. The diva gently placed her mare onto the ground. Flora flexed her muscles to increase blood flow as she huffed. "Everyone ok?" She questioned, mantling the role of the group's leader. The chair creaked as a lone figure emerged from behind its cushion. A man bedecked in the finest suit of purple and black. In his hand was a golden cane, in the other a pipe. He remained still before theatrically turning to face those he had saved. "Consider your predicament. On the one hand, the status quo requires your swift annihilation. On the other, a gentleman welcomes you into his abode. But where are my manners?" The man performed a flamboyant bow as his tip hat now faced them. He quickly rose, revealing a golden mask with fine engravings. "I'm Comm'Orra. And this is my realm—the twilight manor. Welcome, feel free to help yourself to refreshments. I heard they're to die for." He added with a mischievous chortle before slamming his cane three times against the wooden floorboard before leaning on and using the aid to support his weight. Florentina froze as she recognized the mans name. "Your-" Her mouth vanished, leaving the blonde to mumble. The man in the suit wagged his dominant finger while making tsk noises. "My darling, spoilers! I swear some wish to deprive others of the thrill and mystery of the performance! Now, where was I? Ahh, that's right." He reached into his breast pocket only to pull out a silver and jewel-covered pocket watch. Annoyed, he'd bang it against the fireplace and shake it before the ticking resumed. "Watari, my boy! It's great to see you again! Don't you remember Daddy Comm? It doesn't matter. I haven't forgotten you. Don't worry; I forgive the whole decapitation and piercing of my heart a dozen times. I'm sure you slipped repeatedly..." While his face was visible, the elder's smile could be felt as his eyes weren't visible even through the opening of his Victorian mask.

The void had determined Zelena to be nonessential for its indoctrination. The once joyous yet inquisitive spirit faded from view—a disheartening revelation that dispelled many questions yet sowed incalculable more within the minds of its prisoners. Was the octopus alive and well? If not, what did this imply for those still caught within the silhouette snare? The string of inquiries did not affect Florentina. Like Casimir, the diva selected to remain silent as the others took advantage of their "host" largesse attitude. Watari and Lyra were doing a good enough job. The one question she had would have to wait. The blonde continued to comfort her dearest mare as she was cradled in those intense and muscular arms. Those malachite eyes never broke contact with the warden throughout the totality of the reprieve. But something told the sleuth this respite was ephemeral. That such an arrogant creature couldn't help but serenade them with its unearthly voice. A deduction that was vindicated as the still shadow finally triturated through the silence. "You have many queries, and although the methodology has recast your consciousness, you remain irrevocably fallible. Ergo, some of my replies you'll comprehend, and some of them you'll not. The fox infers that preparation will offer salvation. Know that your words are conceived from ignorance. The tautology of desperation placated by your quintessential greatest strength and deficiency, hope. The spider is a mote of dust caught within a persistent astral tempest. Where you see transcendence, I witness a futile struggle against the inescapable." Its voice now echoed, resembling the crashing of the waves. The entity wasn't amused, annoyed, or terrified. It simply was present, almost detached from the moment. "Our numbers will blot the stars and blanket the sky of your world. What you know as the defiled isn't your annihilation but deliverance. While your second question may be the most germane, you may or may not concede that it's also the most vapid." The will's eyes remained unmoving, yet Lyra might discern its focus now on her cradled form. " Listen close centaur. Your civilization is a result of our seeding. The cornerstones of your empires are built upon the gift we left behind. We instilled magic into your world to guide you down the path we deem most beneficial. To overt the disaster of your predecessors. The cyclical nature of our emergence is far more ancient than you realize." Florentina huffed, that reaction warranting a pause as the shadowy figure responded. "Denial is the most predictable of all reactions. But rest assured, this will be the tenth time we've decimated your speck alone, and we have become exceptionally efficient at it. The worlds we redeemed offered us little in the way of valuable data. And whatever they devised, no matter how efficient, failed to approximate our tenacity and attacks. Ergo, whatever we culled was of no use to our crusade. We do not carry out our mission for selfish ambitions. Allow me to intercommunicate an epiphany. I realized that you're not natural. Every animal on each globe instinctively harmonizes with a state of equilibrium with their surrounding habitat, save for a few. Your kind migrates to another area and reproduces until everything is depleted or contaminated. The only way you can persist is to fan to another location or host, if you will. Another thing on this planet follows the same routine—an epidemic. Your species are a disease. The defiled is the remedy. You exist now because we purged the preceding ailment. And those who follow will be allowed to mutate into something restorative long after you're all gone." The diva tapered her eyelids and smiled. That split tongue moisturized her lips as she prepared to ask her question. "Can you feel pain or fear? Can you die." A question that was out of place compared to everyone else's. The silhouette said nothing for a moment before responding with a single word. "Yes." The diva was quite elated and excited. The thrill of such a great hunt was almost enough to induce a climax. The blonde swore to bring down this thing and his brethren. She pledged to one day make love with her wife on their corpses as a testament to the strength of their union and future. "That's all I wanted to know." She concluded positively that such a straightforward inquiry and answer undermined the monarch's aura of grandeur to a degree.

The diva wasn't at all amused by their idle chatter. She yearned for answers from the snooty cur that had summoned them. Nevertheless, it was of some small creaturely comfort to be surrounded by familiar faces. Allies that, if the situation should sour, would be ready to face whatever horrors awaited them. That anticipatory deportment was visible as the blood pumped throughout Florentina's chiseled build. That wild and ancient cadence swelled, an imperceptible tempo but one that held grave significance. The thrill of the hunt and its ensorcelled properties eclipsed all else. The swirling darkness that characterized the silhouette ebbed and flowed. Its shape was ever malleable and in constant flux. The way it simply abided in silence was disheartening. Its eyes emanated a frigid aura despite its perdition. The two contradictory sensations juxtaposed marvelously to the point it defied explanation. Monarch suffered through their incessant penchant for socialization. It commandeered their forgetfulness to analyze the organisms caught within its gravity. Amongst the multitude of the rudimentary, one arose as inquisitive. The fox demanded answers while the rest of his kin idled. Initially, the nokhoi was greeted with silence. The will mourned through the other's vapid discourse. The data it received from the flapping of their gums were useless. And even their attempts at wit would be met with a void as eminent as the twilight encapsulating the party. Monarch's eyes remained unchanging. Its prawn ligaments twitched as the immense crustacean spoke without warning or build-up. "Your speech is as colorless as your questions. The defiled is a term given by the spider to bestow meaning to the incomprehensible. A moniker you've adopted that is as barren as your future. Ultimately, what you seek to label us as is immaterial. For we are what we are." The manifestation spoke while his eyes flickered on and off with that speech. "You foist your limitations on us when in truth, they need not apply. Each of us is sovereign, independent of the whole, yet working as one. There is as much common ground between us as between you and the insects." It answered Watari's first questions as it continued to levitate in place. The weight of its focus barreled down on the general as it continued its thought. "You resisted our arrival. You think of yourself as victors, but you merely delay the inevitable. Your world was and is our laboratory. You've existed in ignorance because we willed it. And you'll see enlightenment because we require it. Such is the cycle. Such is the consequence of your deficiency." The prawn wandered its sight over to Casimir. "Your world has already been redeemed; they croon our song. Ambivalence and dissent are the fruits of your diversity. However, through us, peace can be ascertained. You need only join our flesh and become one with our ensemble." The will added with indifference before returning its focus where it began to Florentina. "Your species has our attention. Surrender your potential or resist. It makes no difference. Many before you have held such bravado. Yet none have escaped our gospel." The apathy continued to resound from its words. Monarch aired no disdain or concern; it was almost as if this was business as usual for the will. "But I'm not without courtesy. Ask your questions, and I'll answer them." It concluded.

The accord that had presented tranquility over the provinces couldn't persist for perpetuity. The diva apprehended that discord and ambivalence were inevitable. That the armistice they signed with the desert merely deferred this inescapable conflict. The others may have been lulled into complacency. Florentina, however, studied and prepared the mind and body for the looming struggle. The powers that be enjoyed their imperceptible lines drawn across maps. They were weak and lethargic; the giantess regarded these sins as indefensible. The defiled toiled as a nuisance, a boogeyman that mobilized those doomed to bend the knee. Today they were allies, unified against a shared adversary. But come daybreak Florentina would triturate the alliance and carve out her nation. The wetland dwellers served her, along with the oni, ysstmar, and now centaurs. Her forces swelled while the southerners remained stagnate. Long gone were their glory days, and without her eminence to steer them, they'd never prosper. In truth, her conquest of them would be a mercy, a form of goodwill. For now, Florentina relaxed within her villa in the fen. Her body was stripped bare as she lay sprawled out by the pool. Those malachite eyes veered to her beloved—the mare was as fetching as Lyra's presence stirred her loins. The diva wouldn't voice it, but she esteemed the broodmare. Her wanton hankerings were virtually inexhaustible. Gradually the blonde rose, sashaying over to her lover while reaching out and offering that rump a few slaps. "You sure you aren't a flesh mage? Because you know how to double my size..." She jested with a wink. The wholesomeness of that wink wouldn't last. The wave of light crashed against them before Flora had time to react. The operative quickly recognized this sensation. However, such insight did little to quell her anger. The wrathful monk remained hushed as her hand massaged Lyra's posterior. "Remain calm, your diva won't let anything happen." She whispered. The veil was torn asunder as the pair were hit by darkness yet. The miasma of twilight was dense. So thick one might cut it with a knife. Steadfastly Florentina stood, collected, as her optics spotted Casimir, Zelena, and the thing. The words that the entity uttered reeked of arrogance. No doubt, the wretched thing regarded itself as an apex predator. If true, it was quite the exhibition—a grand and inebriating performance of unbridled bravado. Florentina pitied the creature. There was only one thing worth fearing, and it was her. A lesson she intended to impart. That cordiality remained as she suffered through the speech. Ultimately, once it had silenced itself, she'd sigh. The monk was still aroused as she entertained fornicating with her wife. Unfortunately for their host, she considered it unworthy to witness such an uncorrupted performance. Casimir's nonchalant deportment and retort were entirely characteristic of the femboy. Flora's focus deviated from the cat, kneading her wife's tush deeper. "I'll play along. Try using small words and speaking slowly. After all, we're simple folk." She spat back before lifting her wife and carrying her in those big strong arms. The agent's muscles flexed as she strode forward and stood beside Casimir. "I assume you're a defiled? You better have a good reason for souring my afternoon." She hissed, her plump lips bent to a smirk before those emerald spheres peered downward to Casimir. "I give you some free time, and this happens. Something tells me that it isn't a coincidence." She jested before nodding to Zelena. "Hey, Z." She paused. "Casimir, Z, Pseudo alpha, meet Lyra, my wife." The "Pseudo Alpha" epithet was devised to see if she might elicit a response from the dark silhouette holding them captive.

The deluge of elation rendered by the diva's touch had reduced the once kittenish mare into a puddle. Lyra was caught within her gravity, her body and soul sacrificed gaily on the tabernacle of Florentina's depravity. What enormity it would take to abuse this centaur's submissive inclinations. Providentially for the equine, the blonde refrained from succumbing to such predispositions. The giantess harbored an ulterior motive. She regarded love as merely another theatre of war ready for conquest. Their budding romance would labor as a catalyst to bring Lyra's people under her mighty rule. Subserviently, the broodmare did as she was instructed. It seemed Florentina's authority resonated and influenced the hooved maiden. Lyra, however, didn't seem to complain regarding the particulars of their little arrangement—a covenant sealed in the flesh that cemented the sincerity of the diva's vows. The monk silently covered her chiseled frame once the armor and spider silk had been cleaned and delivered. Those malachite eyes stared down at the quarry, radiating a sentiment of appreciation. Now fully garbed, the operative would test the fit as she performed a split before springing back to her feet. The brute sent a flurry of punches and kicks before slamming her dominant foot onto the earth. Florentina opted to disregard her waggish banter. The two couldn't cavort within this wilderness for perpetuity. No, the chieftain had bigger aspirations. Wordlessly, she'd extend a nod. The two now gaited off as a pair down the dirt trail. Florentina kept hushed before she'd grace her plaything with a few remarks. One thing was clear: Lyra loved to chatter and was the polar opposite of the stoic and battle-hardy colossus. The goliath smirked, unsure what inspired this unusual exhibition of mirth. "Oh? Do you wish to race? Here, I thought we had a good cardio workout. Good to know; I'll be sure not to take it easy on you next time. I'll admit, for a virgin, you have tremendous stamina. Who knows, maybe you could be the one to keep up with my voracious appetite?' The diva commented via a quip. The jovial atmosphere resided throughout the duration of their little hike. The clangor of the tribe betrayed their nomadic settlement. However, the diva knew in advance that they were drawing nearer. The ground spoke to her. The myriad of imprints indicated excessive traffic. There were so many footprints that it was virtually impossible to gauge the precise number of hooves that stampeded across the patch of dirt. Thankfully, Flora wouldn't need to wait long to receive her answer. The giantess kept pace with her equine sleeve as they approached. The judgemental eyes of her people were glimpsed, and their prolonged stares were forgiven. The blonde was an outsider, so it made sense a degree of caution would be prudent and expected. Lyra ran off to speak with the others; while she did so, Florentina examined their primitive lodgings from afar. The centaur's nudity didn't bother the warrior. The agent felt a kindred spirit, given she followed the old ways of the Jorgenskull. The chitchat hadn't escaped her acute hearing. Nevertheless, she abided by such an affrontery. The blaring of the horn was a familiar sight. One that signaled the time to enact her plan was nigh. The tribe congregated around them, encircling the outsider. The diva showed no inkling of fear or doubt as she stood proudly among them. Her hands rested above her absurdly bulbous buttocks while her chin held high. Flora's emerald gemstones kept focused ahead. Her military deportment only waned momentarily once Lyra had introduced her parents. That was quick. Typically, the others kept their relationship in the dark. Lyra, however, appeared determined to flaunt her lover for all to see proudly. Regardless, the giant banged her fist against her breastplate before bringing her feet together. A gesticulation of respect among the dynasty, albeit its significance, might have been wasted on this band of drifters. "A pleasure. I'm Florentina Jorgenskull, the warden of the north. Your daughter has quite a glow. I can see where she inherited such kind eyes from." The blonde complimented them. Unfortunately, this little reunion would have to be shelved. Her broodmare frittered no time before making her attention known to the assembly. The elder stepped forward, an action that warranted the diva's focus. Florentina kept muted, allowing the wise woman of the people to lay forth her inquisition. Her expression and body language proclaimed her discipline and time in service. Once the aged equine had finished, the giantess would immediately respond accordingly. "Many would say the same thing about my kind. Giant's are savage, unintelligent brutes—mindless monsters who exist to torment those unfortunate to cross their paths. My people, those of the swamp, also suffered similar vitriol. How fortunate for us that reality isn't subject to the capricious whims of the ill-informed. Nonetheless, I don their unflattering myths with distinction. It is why I am known as "the queen of monsters" by outsiders." She laid the foundation, highlighting a comparable experience to cultivate common ground. "Was that a tinge of pain I detected in your voice? Why? You're a centaur. Embrace that with pride. Don't ever let another take that fact away from you." A modest display of her perception. "Regarding targetting you. If that were my intention, you'd already be dead. I wouldn't waste my time pursuing diplomatic channels or standing before you with an offer. That all being said, I find your concern regarding your identity to be...interesting. I'll be honest; you will lose a portion of your culture. And you'll gain fragments of others. Just like when a husband and a wife share a home, they change one another. So it is when two tribes align. You might see it as death. I see it as evolution." The diva spoke candidily before she paced back and forth. Her hands hadn't moved from their settled position. "You lay forth a question that you secretly know the answer to. Each member of this tribe has the foresightedness to glimpse what refusal to adapt will bring. One doesn't need to be clairvoyant to watch the violent squall on the horizon. However, I'll affirm what is indisputable. Your tribe has diminished over the generations. But you're not alone. How many Centaur tribes have gone missing? Was not their history and way of life forgotten? The lines we draw on the map are in constant flux. They're expanding, decreasing your habitat, and making an inevitable clash. You can defer that eventuality. However, you can't prevent it." Florentina spoke with conviction before stopping to turn and face the elder. Those green eyes peered into her own, unaware if her vision was compromised. "You'll lose everything. Your name, tribe, face, language, and history. Do you recall when you inquired what would happen if you assimilated? You were fixated on the fear of losing your identity. It's a moot point, given you're destined to sacrifice that regardless. What I provide isn't charity, nor is it easy. You're well within your right to say no. However, be warned. It'll only change the amount of dead between your people and that precipice. If you spurn my offer, you'll meet one of two ends: extinction or subjugation. Not a peaceable metamorphosis, an amalgamation between many tribes. The birth of something new from the ashes of the old. That's what I offer. You inquired about what awaits you after a few years. I cannot say. But, this much I can state. In the five years the tribes have been united, we've formed a nation. Industry, education, and technology have come from the garden of our unity. No longer are they seen as weak. The world took notice of the swamp and now quivers in either fear or curiosity. I don't offer your tribe anything. I am offering our tribe everything." She concluded, showcasing the failure of separating their tribe from the collective.

The winsome snapshot juxtaposed marvelously with their previous tussle. The carnal wrangling had pleased the giantess, for few could weather her unbridled thrashings. Florentina was elated that the equine was naughty. Outwardly she may put up a front of innocence. However, when alone, the mare transformed into a gluttonous strumpet. Lyra was the quintessential partner, submissive yet inclined to speak her mind. A cut above the harlots the diva often settled for. Something about her caramel body against Florentina's pale complexion proved titillating. The warmth of the centaur's spirit left the warrior feeling conflicted. Typically, those maidens she abused left once the carnal deed was done. That, or they laid as a blubbering and sweaty mess. Somehow, Lyra had the maintained her mental faculties. The blonde reposed, getting comfortable as her denuded and chiseled figure rested on the soil—the binary sun's rays peeked through the gaps of the verdant canopy. Its warm kiss against her flesh enriched the wink they shared. Something was befitting of their first joining occurring in the wilds. It highlighted and complimented the frenzied melding of their bodies. Those malachite spheres couldn't help but take in the quarry—a trophy Flora would treasure above all else. The diva's maintained her neutral profile even as the broodmare kissed her finger. The hunter feared that she'd be viewed as vulnerable if she didn't keep up those walls. She needed to be decisive and indefatigable, the bedrock of their relationship. Lyra's smile spoke volumes, given the context. The monk interpreted it as a cue that her pledge was satisfactory and that the centauress approved and endorsed its content. The two cuddled, the excess seed dripping from Lyra's prized womanhood. The giant hearkened to her words and mulled over the answer supplied. A quaint request, one that she'd have honored even if not verbalized. It stood to reason the pair would travel together. Still, she'd honor it and as the equin explored the surface, the operative would do the same to her innards. "If we can't explore the world then I'll bring it to you. Admittedly, I have gardens at my estates. However, I pay others to tend to it. You could say I lack a green thumb. It'll be nice to have someone gifted tending to it." The agent added with a tepid shrug. Flora kept hushed while Lyra spoke of her people. Her warnings were heeded. But the blonde wasn't concerned. She had a way with people and could be pretty cogent. "You're people, should they bend the knee, will become mine. I won't lie and tell you I won't require them in my army. However, I won't treat them as fodder or pawns. I treat those loyal well and those who oppose me with the utmost barbarity." Without warning, Flora would grab and manipulate the mare, turning Lyra so her backside faced her lips. The centaur rested on the giantess's chest before Lyra felt those strong hands clenching her sides. "Withdrawn? Like you were? If so, I think we both know how that'll end." She quipped. Suddenly that split tongue slithered from her mouth. A tender kiss planted itself on Lyra's nether region, only for her oral muscle to trace and clean that slit. Their forced tips rubbed against her clitoris before gently twisting it as it grabbed that pleasure button. The sound of the diva making out with it passionately teased the equine's ears. Those loud and wet smacks were followed by her mischievous tongue forcing its way inside to scour it clean of her seed. Lyra needed to be presentable; as she was now, she was a mass from behind. The diva paused her worshipping of that orifice only to give that rump a power and swift slap. "Relax. I'll make sure it's spotless." She purred while her free hand seized the centaur's tail and moved it out of the way. A devoted oral session ensued—a wild and stimulating presentation of gratitude. Florentina wouldn't let Lyra go, not till she squeezed one last climax from her. And once she had reached such a zenith the monk would push her off and stand so that her member dangled above the hooved princess. "Let's go." She ordered with a snap before swallowing what she had stolen from Lyra's fleshly canal. "Mind bringing me my web and bone armor? I doubt they'd appreciate my bear figure as much as you. Plus, if we don't leave, we might never. Although that doesn't sound too bad, now does it?" She concluded with a smirk and a chuckle.

The artists often characterized centaurs as icons of nature's more graceful aspects. A fringe clung to myths of old, representing them as more chaotic aspects of the natural order. The very things civilized endeavored to stem via its vertical walls. Florentine despised this futile attempt. She regarded the current trajectory of her people as an outward affront—an inadvisable and infantile repudiation to separate themselves from the jungle's habitat. That path would only lead her people to unfettered ruination. The fatuity in their doctrine was assuming they were the masters of their biodome. When, in actuality, the planet held sole governance. Life existed to procreate and to enjoy its finite presence on this adversarial globe. Whatever additional meaning they discerned came second and often mirrored vaguery delusions. Misconceptions of a mortal creature futilely straining to sculpt out profundity when there were none. That philosophy, while off-putting to most, was epitomized in this wink. The diva planned to break in this mare and endow Lyra with the two things she thirsted for: purpose and adventure. Florentina demanded to evolve into the sole deity in the equine's life—a prospect that cut both ways, self-evident via the twitching of her member. The giantess rendered many into wheezing husks. She often domesticated them without a mite of emotion. However, those malachite eyes beheld something special about this mark. The quarry before her wasn't like the former prey. No, Lyra was much more. The unyielding grip of her feminine canal was a form of idolization. The adulating neighs and moans of their lewd ensemble harbingered this inalienable union. The visceral and sloppy racket of her fierce bucking eradicated all doubt. Florentina would conquer this mare, seed her womb, and construct her ideal world. Wildly and without little regard, the blonde battered deep into Lyra's flesh. Her insides stretched and accommodated her length and girth, hugging even the veins with uncanny eagerness. Flora tensed her grip on those rear hooves; her hips slammed forward and pulled back. However, never enough to liberate her womanhood from that onslaught. The diva's deprived and weighty moons swung with her motions, controlled by those broad hips. The collision became more discordant and frequent with each waning second. The agent's muscles flexed, and her breathing sharpened as those emerald jewels were immolating. The inferno of eros was undeniable, a not-so-subtle inkling that she treasured Lyra's body's resilience. The diva's fiendish and split tongue traced her plump oral rims, moisturizing them. Her perky mounds of flesh bounced with the fluid and precise movements of her insatiable rutting. Lyra's beseechment wasn't ignored. It only intensified the besetment of the hammering of her innards. Florentina dropped her weight, slamming her palms into the dirt by the mare's head, leaving a visible imprint on the soil. The giantess poundage pinned the quarry while forcing her hooves to bend inward toward Lyra's bosom. The mating press ensured the equine had no option of retreating. Although Flora doubted Lyra desired such release. The blonde lowered her head. Those strands of gold dangled earthward, only for her succulent lips to pilfer the centaur's own. Her tongue forced its way deep down her throat as it wrestled with Lyra's oral muscle. A seal formed as any screams or pleads became muffled. There the monk could be seen piledriving without consideration. Her slab of meat twitched as it demanded to know release. Florentina wasn't a selfish lover. No, she'd weather that carnal want until such a time as her prize climaxed a few times. Their bodies now became one perspiring mass of muscle—an ever-shifting amalgamation caught within the thralldom of wanton cravings. Her Florentina remained until she felt the mare's heart give in and her body weaken. Then, and only then, would she commit to one final slam so that her scrotum pressed against Lyra's posterior. An audible pop followed as Florentina broke their kiss and chortled while a lonesome strand of saliva still tethered their lips together. "No retreat." She cried before the centaur would feel her heavy sack lifting and dropping. A warm deluge surged into her most inviolable chamber. The heat of that seed alleviated those sore tunnels of flesh. Florentina groaned and smiled as her muscles relaxed. Once the bliss had passed, the blonde would remove her cigar and put it out on Lyra's rump before rolling off and resting on her back. That member glazed in the concoction of their feral dance. Without much delay, she'd grab and scoop the centaur so that she rested on top. The operative's green eyes leered down at the catch while her countenance and chiseled frame held a sheen due to sweating. Her free hand traveled south, massaging Lyra's rear as her fingers playfully sketched up and down the slit of that abused orifice. "I don't know if we're compatible. A giant and a centaur have never attempted to have children. But, I pledge this to you. I won't cease until we bend biology to our whims." She added while continuing her playful caressing. "Stay with me. I own the northernmost territory. Bring your people; it's about time they settled down without fear. It gets lonely in my manor, and I could use your tempered approach to help me govern. But first, please tell me what you want the most. No matter what it is, I will strive to bring it to fruition for my moon and star." A winsome wink, as even Flor's voice held a tenderness to it. An atmosphere further strengthened as her free hands settled on Lyra's lips, circling her thumb around it as the diva felt vulnerable and complacent.

Lyra was inexperienced. Nevertheless, her spirit and corporeal vessel were willing. The diva took charge of their voyage, guiding the brood mare to a sensual meadow. The ambiance of nature accentuated their natural attraction. A pizzaz that neither partaker shied from, yet both voluntarily lolled within its orbit. Florentina had shared her bed with many a dame. Her promiscuous nature was well known as she subscribed to the sentiment that the flesh must be experienced. Nonetheless, there was something different about the prey she had bested. The giantess couldn't deny the stimulation her resilient innards provided. Florentina discerned not just carnality but something she hadn't encountered in some time. The sleekness of those feminine canals demanded to be abused. Heavy grunts divorced themselves from her succulent lips as she pulled back before thrusting forward. That fleshly edifice plunged deep into Lyra's most hallowed depths. The equine's vice grip ensorcelled the mind, bewitching the calloused warrior. The queen of monsters elevated the frequency and might behind her thrusts. The miasma of eros suspended aloft the timbers as the cacophony of their joining disturbed the cadence of the wilds. The smacking of her hefty scrotum matched the wilderness's tempo, bringing another layer of harmony. Lyra's curiosity regarding the blonde's chiseled temple wouldn't be rebuked nor denied. Instead, she welcomed it, endowing the hooved one with the privilege few relished. Her digit wiggled inside the centaur's mouth while those malachite eyes gazed down at her plaything. Florentina's gems were overpowering. Everything about the warrior emanated a despotic atmosphere. Yet, behind that domineering deportment lingered a faint glint of appreciation. Her sensitive rosebuds were erect as the groping of her perky bosom further stoked her wanton demands. If Lyra experimented and squeezed, she'd witness the production of her regal lactation. "Good girl. Let mommy break you in. There's no need to feel shame. You were meant for this. Go ahead, neigh my name for the globe to hear. I wish it to know that I, Florentina Jorgenskull, have commandeered your womb." The diva commanded as the hand around Lyra throat tightened its grip. The giant refrained from restricting her of air. The rough handling and the now violent collision of their bodies incorporated pain and pleasure. It was these two sensations that Flora had come to treasure. In her mind, pain was a deficiency being forced from the body. And if Lyra were to sire her heirs, she'd have to be strong to keep up with the princess's indefatigable ardor. The giantess would shift her position once those insides were thoroughly pounded into submission. She pulled her finger from the mare's mouth as she sat upright. The operative's bulbous rear settled on the ball of her feet as she pierced her member into those welcoming folds. Flora's knees supported her weight. The diva spanked Lyra's rump before those hands reached and grabbed the equine's hind legs. Her grip tightened near the hooves, ensuring they remained pointed to the welkin as she dispatched a flurry of quick yet robust thrusts. The agent would reach for and light a blunt before resecuring both legs. Florentina slammed inside before ousting a fume of that jungle herb. A moan exited her gullet while she slapped her broodmare's rear again, guaranteeing she had left a mark. The giantess sniggered while rotating those broad hips. The girth of her member rubbed against those heated yet wet walls. Lyra might feel its twitching as the head prodded against her sensitive canal. "Beg for the honor of having your womb besmeared by my illustrious seed. Demonstrate to me why you rate my time. Whimper, moan, thrash, perspire, and neigh. Let the world hear your declaration of your unwavering fealty to the diva. " She decreed before resuming the ravaging of her catch.

What an obedient little plaything the diva had happened across. If Florentina didn't know better, she'd assume Lyra was enjoying this little exhibition of domination. The mare was a curiosity, her innate intrigue only surpassed by her untouched beauty. Those malachite eyes flickered with a glint of appreciation. The fidelity offered, while not perfect, was much appreciated. Lyra's body language long betrayed her submission. Nevertheless, her signing of that covenant was most welcome. The monk wouldn't balk; she faced this challenger without an inkling of fear or doubt. The rendezvous of their lips stoked the primordial flames of eros. The blonde marveled at how right this all felt. Lyra, her brood mare, was finally home. The centaur destined to become an idol, an effigy of lust. Boldly the inquisitor slid her tongue into Lyra's mouth. That debauched oral muscles wrestling her own as she showcased how dexterous her split tongue was. The exchange of their saliva proved most thrilling. That fleshly edifice twitched to life as it stood full erect. The head sliding free from the foreskin as it curved to the left. The feminine nectar of the centaur's womanhood lubricated it. It further goaded the giantess, beseeching her to plunder the mare's virginity. Florentina wouldn't deny Lyra what she had rated. Evident in how those broad hips continued to circle before sliding that thick tip across her nether pocket. The entirety of the diva's temple was open for Lyra to experience. There was no act off limits, regardless of how profane it might be. The blonde huffed once that kiss had been broken. Her dominant hand grasped the side of the mare's face as her thumb sketched those oral rims. Flora pushed her finger into the centaur's mouth as she gently bucked forward. The prey was pinned, trapped under the giant's power and weight. Try as she may, there would be no quarter. "Such bravado, I wonder how long it'll last?" She purred only for the tip of that member to force her feminine lips open. The warmth and sleekness of that garden pleased the diva. A gentle groan was ousted from Florentina's gullet as she gently delved deeper. That veil that verified her abstinence ripped, a sensation that humbled the brute. "My, my, my. To think you considered me worthy of being your first?" Flora used her weight to plunge her cock further. She now performed a quasi pushup, holding herself down with a single hand as her tongue slithered out and flicked Lyra's earlobe. "There is no safe word. I won't be pulling out either- a Jorgenskull never retreats..." A hot breath was blown against the wet flesh. Her words followed with a chuckle as the vice grip of Lyra's womanhood failed to keep her battering ram at bay. Florentina lifted herself, pushing those hips down with her total weight. The diva gifted with a pleasant surprised as her swollen moons pressed against the mare's rump. It had been too long since she had last wrestled a partner who could take the entirety of her genitals reach. The wet slaps of their bodies collision stood out against the soundscape of nature. Highlighted further by the giantess grunts. Convinced Lyra would weather through their joining. The blonde withdrew her thumb before slamming the palm into the earth. Florentina's hips withdrew, only to thrust forward at a gradual and considerate frequency. The centaur caught within a mating press, guaranteeing full reach and access to the maiden's soon to be sullied womb.

Those bright eyes glistened with adulation. Lyra was marveling at her physique, taking in the totality of it all. Every scar, every muscle proclaimed her dedication to her craft. Florentina held no reservations when it came to becoming the center of attention. She demanded nothing less then deification if the mare was to serve her role in the coming union. The centaur behaved herself kittenishly. It further supported the sleuth's deductions regarding her personage. The abashed deportment was welcome; it implied that the giantess could defile her celibacy. The sanctity of Lyra maternal temple would soon serve a new purpose. Those malachite gemstones glinted from anticipation. It took a great deal to refrain from subduing the nomadic beauty. Nevertheless, somehow Florentina managed to keep her lesser inclinations at bay. Xan'Dera had brought this mare to her as tribute. It would be sinful not to explore the limitations of the centuaress vessel. Lyra body was willing, but would the spirit demonstrate itself as resilient? Whatever the case, the diva respected the mare's role as the sacrificial lamb. The beauty soon to be reborn upon her tabernacle of debauchery. An innocent soul destined to utter psalms along with an unbridled and primal climax. Flora's nether obelisk twitched from suspense while the centaur sung forth glorification. The blonde stood still. She dared not interrupt and thus desecrate the ritual. After all, the two now stood on holy ground. Florentina blinked from puzzlement. Did the meaning of her words elude the mare? Could Lyra be so dense? Doubtful, the rose of the wild must have been feigning such naïveté. The inquisitor reached out, grabbing and manipulating the mare. She'd rotate the woman with both hands so that her belly faced the heavens. Flora' dominant hand squeezing her neck just enough to showcase her brawn. Lyra would discover herself falling, only to land on the earth with the diva mounted on top of her. The agents muscular form slid between her rear hooves that remained pointed skyward. Those locks of gold dangled down as their eyes met while the tip of her member pressed against Lyra's southern lips. The authority of the operative was complimented by her domineering gaze. The diva loitered there for a second. It gave the centaur enough time to process what was to transpire. "I'm not done sharing. I wonder how adventurous you truly are." She purred before lifting and colliding her palms against the dirt above Lyra's shoulders. "Are you brave enough to test my equipment? Are you daring enough to offer your throat to my fangs? Your womb will produce many strong heirs. What is mine will become yours. I offer you and your tribe the chance to join my banners. To rule by my side and to please this diva." The giant grinned before lowering herself. Her succulent lips inches from Lyra's own. "I, princess Florentina and heir to the Jorgenskull empire will break you. You need only seal this covenant with a kiss. And once I'm done mapping out your limits, and you lie wheezing after being baptized. Then you have my permission to scream my name...I should warn you. I never retreat, and I don't believe in safe words." She'd remain there, circling her hips to stimulate the centaur as she waited for a reply. The blonde was direct, forceful, but she wouldn't press further if Lyra rejected her offer. This entire performance was by design, a method to assert and perhaps insert he dominance.