[][TLDR][]

Name: Veronica
Race: Satyr
Age: Late 20s
Sub/Dom Spectrum: 90% Dominant/ 10% Bratty Submissive
Role: Top
Sex: Obscene Donkey Dick
Pronoun: She/Her
Orientation: Bisexual
Height: 190 cm
Hair: Rose Pink
Eyes: Violet
Complexion: Peach Blossoms
Bust: 65EE
Waist: 58cm
Hips: 122cm
Build: Curvaceous
Piercings: Many

[][Description][]

Something of the wild heath about her  -- free and untamed.  In passing, the scent of freshly cut hay and bergamot clung in her wake.  She frequented many an alleyway in the gaslit underbelly of Sinifer, where scandal ran like perfume and the air itself trembled with vice and velvet. She went by Veronica -- no surname for she lived free and untamed and therefore saw no need to pass down a name.

Her hair, thick as bramble and pink as crushed rose petals left soaking in white wine, cascaded down her neck in unruly tresses, forever escaping its own confinement, no matter how she pinned or coiled it. It glinted prismatic in the sunlight or when caught in the flicker of streetlamps. Her skin -- oh, her skin-- a hue not of this world, a pale peony, it seemed to glow even when cloaked in the velvet shadows of midnight parlors.

Her eyes, large and laced with insolence, burned like embers beneath a curtain of half-lowered lashes. There was a knowing glint there, sharp as glass and twice as dangerous, and her smile?when it appeared?seemed half prophecy, half promise seemed to scream, 'You'll be mine tonight.'

She bore the form of a woman only by half measure. From the waist down, the soft curve of hip gave way to the swift, arched grace of digitrade limbs, her legs ending not in dainty slippers but in hooves of polished jet, clacking smartly upon the cobbles as she walked, as proud and unhurried as a duchess at a masquerade. Her gait was not that of a demure maid, but of something older, earthier?she moved with an exaggerated twist of her hips and her burdensome buttocks followed suit crashing and clapping along her leg.

Gold bangles clinked at her elbows and horns, those wicked spirals of ivory bone, crowned her head not with shame but with brazen delight. They curled forward through her hair like the arms of some ancient vine, kissed with filigree and adorned with scraps of lace and the odd bauble gifted in adoration by men and woman alike; all too foolish to know better -- or too far gone to care.

And when she spoke a gutter-drawl of fit for a sailor, thick with the glottal rhythm of Sinifer?s backways and salted with a wit that could slice through silk.

"Oy, love," she?d say, with a smirk tugging the corner of her lush mouth, "No virtue found round 'ere, but fer a few glittering crowns, I'll take ye just shy of Heaven."

She was not a creature of elegance -- no, something rawer, rarer. A hymn to the old chaos rife in the Faewilds dressed in satin and perfume, half-woman, half-wild, and wholly unforgettable.

[][Lights][]


OOC Enthusiasm. Corruption. Transformation. Dark Themes. Try me.

OOC Setups. Chat friendly but mapping out plot/every kink is exhausting.