N'Sarha Ruvya,
Demon of the N Tribe
To protect the people you love, how far would you go? How low would you fall?
About Me
- The Basics –
Age: 30
Birthday: 17th Sun of the 5th Astral Moon
Race: Formerly Miqo'Te, now Hrothgar
Gender: F
Sex: H
Sexuality: Bi
Relationship Status: Single and not looking
Server: Marilith
Free Company: The Lavender Consort <TLC>
- Physical Appearance -
Hair: Platinum-lilac
Eyes: Magenta
Height: Tall even by Hrothgar standards
Build: Lean and muscular
Distinguishing Marks: Scars from battle adorn her body, in addition to runic scarring of a scarlet shade.
Common Accessories: A silver headband with succubus horns, identifiable by their aldgoat-like shape- Personal –
Profession: Soldier
Hobbies: Smithing, Dancing
Residence: The Mists
Birthplace: Ala Mihgo
Religion: It's complicated.
Patron Deity: Rhalgr
Fears: Finding her kin on the other end of her blade- Relationships –
Spouse: None
Children: None
Parents: N'Ruvya Nunh and N'Amnikha Tiokh
Siblings: Only child, though she had quite a few nieces and nephews, giving her an eldest sister vibe
Other Relatives: N'Brasiin Tia, her uncle on her fathers side. In many ways closer to her than her father due to the frequent friction between Sarha and Ruvya
Pets: None- Traits –
Extroverted / In Between / Introverted
Disorganized / In Between / Organized
Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded
Calm / In Between / Anxious
Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable
Cautious / In Between / Reckless
Patient / In Between / Impatient
Outspoken / In Between / Reserved
Leader / In Between / Follower
Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic
Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic
Traditional / In Between / Modern
Hard-working / In Between / Lazy
Cultured / In Between / Uncultured
Loyal / In Between / Disloyal
Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful- Additional information –
Smoking Habit: She'll take up a pipe from time to time
Alcohol: Plentiful, though she is trying to cut back, a bit.
Aliases:
-Storm Lieutenant Ruvya
-Primus Pilus Sarha Rem Ruvya of the XIVth Legion
Affiliation:
Primal Allure
The Lavender Consort
Maelstrom [FORMER]
Garlean Army [FORMER]
Origins of the Demon
Death of a Daughter; Birth of a BeastN'Sarha is a true blooded daughter of ala mihgo and proud warrior of the N tribe, a clan of artisans and hunters who made their home on the edge of Gyr Abania's Dimwold. They were of many talents but none as fine as their craftsmanship, developing techniques to work the crystals of the Comet's Tail with the various ores of the region. In times of peace they would frequently trade their goods with the peoples of Gridania and the Ananta from further east. They were a traditional tribe, believing the strongest breeding male was best suited to be their leader as the one who would shape their future, a tradition that bothered Sarha to no end. On many an occasion she would butt heads with her father N'Ruvya Nunh over these practices and out of spite she took it upon herself to test any Tia who aspired to challenge her father. Ruvya, of course had reasons beyond sex alone, though that was a factor, but she never saw it that way. In her eyes if she wasn't fit to lead simply because she lacked the ability to sire children then neither was any warrior who couldn't best her axe.When the Garleans came she was still but a young girl in her mid teens, and while the M tribe chose to stand their ground, N'Ruvya thought better of it. He was no less prideful than his daughter, but he valued foresight and avoiding bloodshed where feasible. His people were skilled artisans of metal and bone alike, forming deadly weaponry and effective defenses from that which nature provided. While he could make the choice to pit these skills against the superior technology of the Garleans, and maybe they would even make a dent, it was his responsibility as a leader to protect as many of his people as possible. Therefore he made a gamble to use their talents to gain favor with their would-be conquerors and in turn safety.Much like the woman who would one day be called the Butcher, N'Sarha saw first hand that they were still no more than beasts to the Garleans no matter how useful they were. As she neared womanhood she made a difficult decision: Against her fathers wishes she would enlist, rise to the rank of officer, and keep Garlean eyes off of her people to afford them an opportunity to escape to the west. This would mean throwing herself into the center of the lions den, but being the rash young woman she was, she didn't consider the full breadth of the consequences.As an able bodied adult with proven strength of arms, her enlistment was accepted and her wild recklessness on the battlefield earned her no small amount of accolades but she didn't plan ahead to her own escape. In drawing eyes away from her kin she had more than ever upon herself. To remind her always of her purpose she donned a circlet adorned with aldgoat horns in the style of a succubus. To her enemies they along with her ferocity earned her the title of "The Demon". To her though they were a subtle way to remind herself where she came from. The N Tribe. The Aldgoat Tribe. When she put on her horns and strode into battle she was reminding herself of her reason for cutting down Ala Mihgan rebels, her own people: to protect those who mattered most to her.The very same ferocity that earned her such terror on the battlefield would lead to her selection for a precursor to the Hypertuning Project: To bring out the savagery in the savage and bioengineer living weapons. It was dressed up as an honor but all knew the truth. She was not a trueborn Garlean. She was expendable no matter how loyal she acted or how well she fought. In the days following the incident theories abounded as to why she accepted. Some say it was part of her plan from the beginning to steal the gifts of Garlemald and use them against the motherland. Others swore it must have broken her mind; that a conscript who so readily slaughtered her own would never defect.The truth was far less glorious: She accepted because she saw no alternative. She felt hopeless and trapped, cursing the reflection in the mirror each morning. The visage of the girl who betrayed her kin and massacred her people all to selfishly save one tribe and forsake all others taunted her each day, and she would give anything to be free of it. When the opportunity landed on her desk she didn't think twice, numbed as she was. The lead researcher was a sick man who saw her as not just a weapon but an animal to be genetically engineered and used to breed even more living weapons. In a disturbing twist of fate she gained exactly what she thought she needed to be Nunh.
In addition to now having the physical capacity to breed or be bred, the end result saw N'Sarha as tall as a Roegadyn male, with a physique more befitting her berzerker approach to combat. Her body was now reminiscent of the Hrothgar of Bozja, foreign to her perhaps but not to her captors, who made their home in the southern realms of Ilsabard. The added source of natural testosterone and other alterations made to her brain and body chemistry also saw her much more driven towards acts of aggression or instinct and lessened her already short temper. The Garleans cared little for learning of the traditions of the savages and were not aware that her style of combat was more than just blind aggression. It was an art developed by the Hellsguard people that left one vulnerable to losing control to the beast within and now changed as she was that risk loomed greater than ever. The Garleans had unleashed a monster who had nothing left to lose and no amount of threats or consequences could stop what was coming.Axe in hand in the black of night she tore asunder the side of her tower at Castellum Velodyna and leapt from her chambers to the metal bridge below, growling in pain and rage as her bones fractured but her body did not buckle. She did not hesitate to visit bloody vengeance against those who called her comrade the last several years even as the sirens began to blare. Her clawed feet pounded against the soil of her former homeland and she ran towards the treeline, Baelsar's wall standing menacingly in the distance. She massacred one of the night patrols and hijacked a suit of magitech armor to bypass the sensors with, having been trained extensively in the operation of Garlean tech. Once inside the fortress, with no regard for her own safety, she set her armor to self-destruct to cover the last leg of her escape. The worst that could happen is she would die and even that was preferable to one more day of this living nightmare. Freedom was so close she could feel her blood pounding in her ears, drowning out the screams and sirens around her. She must have blacked out at some point because she came to her senses under the shade of Gridania's boughs drenched in blood not her own. Knowing the Garleans wouldn't invade alliance territory for a single escapee she washed her face in a stream and stowed away on an airship far far from this damned place to the shores of La Noscea.
Distant Shores
Peace amidst the lawlessThe beautiful city of Limsa Lominsa, the city of freedom. This would be her new beginning, a place her axe was needed and no one would ask any questions about her origins. Amidst pirates just on the other side of lawful she'd find her new home, bit by bit.
..At least, that was the plan.Upon her arrival in the sparkling seaside city-state she was met with a bittersweet sight. N'delika and N'tanmo, a pair of twins Sarha knew throughout her childhood, seemed to be here working as part of the city watch. She watched for a bit as they guided travelers wheresoever they needed to go in a cheerful manner that was almost nostalgic. Overcome with emotion she strode forward and called out "Delika!" but the woman looked up wide-eyed with ears flat in apprehension. Who was this massive stranger to be calling her without her tribal name? "I-I'm sorry....do I know you?" Sarha's heart sunk and she stammered, at a loss for words as she slowly backed up and then abruptly turned and ran, knocking a bystander to the ground.As she turned, N'tanmo saw the Magitek axe upon her back and cried out, causing F'zhumii by the lift to whistle sharply. Sarha had barely made it to the aetheryte plaza before Ryssfloh, a nearby Roegadyn Yellowjacket, tackled her to the ground. Before she knew it she was dragged to the Coral tower for questioning and her weapon was confiscated. In a dim room across from Commodore Reyner Hansred she found herself bound and forced to explain her situation. She swore she was a traveler and the incident at the Bulwark was simply embarrassment due to a case of mistaken identity.The Commodore weighed her words for a moment before signaling the man at the door to bring in Wyrnzoen Saelsmyndsyn. The stern man bade the Axemaster present her weapon, a damning case against her in and of itself. She needed a story and she needed it yesterday. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath "It's...stolen...sir. It belonged to a Garlean officer in Gyr Abania, and I took it when I fled conscription." Technically not a lie.The guards confirmed that she had no Empire paraphernalia of any kind on her person upon arrest and she thanked her forethought in abandoning her bloodied uniform in Springripple Brook as soon as she came to. Wyrmzoen sized her up a moment and asked her "Do ya know how to use that thing lass?" She nodded, and thus she was given a choice. Sit in the brig until someone vouched for her, or community service with the Yellowjackets. She didn't hesitate to choose the latter.She was given a proper bunk and three squares a day so long as she stayed on her best behavior and didn't shirk her duties. True to her word she fought alongside the city guard, and began training under the axemaster to refine her wild art. She also chanced to learn in her time with the city that one of her tribe's best fisherwomen N'nmulika had found stable work with the fishermen's guild here. Naught was heard of the rest of the N tribe and she knew better than to ask them. If they lived, they weren't here. She just had to hope they got split up.Upon Wyrnzoen's recommendation she enlisted with the Maelstrom at the end of her sentence as he deemed her skills better put to use there. It was a good a way as any to earn coin and put meat on the table while she sorted out what to do next, so she saw no reason to argue, but to do so she'd need proper gear.Her build was close enough to that of Roegadyn women that she could wear attire sized for them with minimal adjustment, and the need to make those adjustments brought her to the Armorer's guild. With hammer in hand it felt as though a small piece of her was home. Here she was not Storm Private Ruvya, nor Primus Pilus Sarha Rem Ruvya...she was simply N'Sarha, as though she were learning alongside uncle N'Brasiin once more.And so the days passed. Fending off kobolds and sahagin in the name of Limsa Lominsa ever aware of the ironic parallel of cutting down 'savage beast' tribes in the name of yet another cause that was never her own. She kept her distance from her fellow soldiers and threw herself into work behind the forge and bellows, as though burying the past were as simple as hammering out a few dents in a set of layered plate.It took time. Rumors about her came and went, as did news of the fight against Empire and the dreaded Black Wolf...Gaius Van Baelsar. The very man who cruelly subjugated her people. The man before whom she once knelt in service. Whilst open war between the Eorzean Alliance and the Garlean Empire always seemed like a far off impossibility, Sarha suddenly found herself thrust into combat against the empire once more save this time she was a Sergeant with young men and women looking to her for orders. The tactics of a reckless berserker would avail her naught here and for the first time she fought not for vengeance or survival but to protect those weaker than her.She played her part in Operation Archon to the letter, causing more than enough havoc with her unit to draw away defenses so the magitek field generator may be destroyed. Furthermore she ensured the return of every soldier under her by bearing the brunt of the enemies onslaught herself and persevering through sheer rage alongside the support of the Arcanists in her unit. She was lauded upon their return to the Coral Tower and promoted to Lieutenant but it somehow rang hollow, and soon she would come to realize why.As she lay in bed under apothecaries orders the news came in. Operation Archon was complete, the Ultima Weapon was destroyed, and the cherry on top of it all The Black Wolf was pronounced dead following the explosion that rocked the praetorium. A feast would be held and all within the alliance were welcome, and all the while she could only think of how much she wished she could have been in the thick of it. How much she wished she could have dealt the finishing blow to that man herself.
A disquiet voice
"The tide grows and threatens to consume... 'Till Sea Swallows All"In the months following the triumph at the Praetorium, Sarha began to find what almost constituted peace. She slowly had begun to make friends in Limsa, starting with those she saved in her unit. She learned that her looks were not so freakish or monstrous as she had once believed after a kind traveler explained to her what 'Hrothgar' were. Just knowing there was a whole people who looked like her was an odd comfort.It was beginning to look like she truly would not be pursued by the Empire. With her mind no longer preoccupied with survival however, something new reared it's head. After all if life had taught Sarha anything it was that all good things must come to an end sooner or later.It began as a whisper. So small she could scarce hear it over the din of the tavern.
Sarha looked around, but everyone was occupied with her own conversations, so she went back to her drink, smiling at her comrades.
This time she sat up with a start and waved away the concerned looks by retiring to her room for the night.As she slept, the soldier was plagued with restlessness. In her dreams she was back with her family in The Fringes, bickering, laughing, living as they once did, and all the while a voice kept calling from somewhere just out of view.
She ignored it, taking in the faces of her family
She pushed it down, drowned it out.
With a start she woke, her fur damp with sweat. That morning she submitted a formal request for leave. She needed a change of scenery, something to get her mind out of this funk. Her CO told her this kind of thing sometimes happened to soldiers who've seen war and to take her time. A distracted soldier is a dead soldier after all. He also informed her that if her symptoms did not lessen she more than met the requirements to earn an honorable discharge despite the unusually short length of her service: She earned her rank, protected her soldiers, and played a strong part in Operation Archon.After asking around some she resolved to set out for the frigid highlands of Coerthas, just outside of the walled city of Ishgard. In those lands there was no alliance, no empire, no...reminders.
On the way she took pause in the Black Shroud to remember that day almost a year ago at this point. It was so vivid as though she could still hear the sirens, the screams, the shouts of patrols searching for her...she could still smell the blood as though it were fresh as the day it was spilled. She frowned a moment and in the silence that voice rang clear, clearer than in Limsa Lominsa.
One thing was markedly different from Limsa though.. This time when she turned to look there was someone there, shrouded in the shade of a nearby tree. It looked like a Miqo'te but it was difficult to tell. Sarha hissed and unholstered her axe but no sooner than it was free the figure was gone.The Hrothgar tried to spot where her stalker went but saw no trace. Suddenly a bestial snarl sounded right behind her ear with one last hissed warning.
She turned around suddenly, panting like she was nearing a panic attack. This was getting absurd...was her mind truly so damaged? Was the guilt so great that she was cracking or was someone or something fucking with her?The last leg of the journey felt so tiring after that, but eventually she made her way through the northern shroud to the small settlement of Dragonhead. This place was not so bustling, with a small military presence and work available for roaming blades. It would suit as a temporary place of residence while she got her shit together.Night after night the dreams persisted, her restless sleep beginning to wear on her sanity and health, but for a mercy the voice was quiet. She took odd jobs in the area, lending her axe where the temple knights clearly didn't care enough to help. This was her new normal until the local barkeep handed her a missive addressed to 'Sarha'. Not the strangest thing in the world as she had earned a smidge of a reputation in the area for doing the bloody work others couldn't handle.
The letter was unsigned but requesting her aid in an escort to a Botanist by the name of Roiteloin, just outside skyfire locks to the north. If interested she was to wait outside the gates of judgement.Not one to turn her nose up at a job just for a bit of obscurity she paid her tab, hefted her axe and set out. She waited and waited until it was nearly dark, and just as she was about to leave she heard a cold male voice behind one of the nearby statues. "I hear you're the only woman in these parts doing the work others are too sodding cowardly to. If you lack the stomach to risk crossing the knights turn around and walk away."
Sarha peered through the dark, the figure of a Xaela male with a bundle about half his size on his back becoming clear as her eyes adjust.
"That...all depends what you're offering."His piercing gaze narrows as she stays firm. "Do the job and you can name your bloody price, I'd do it myself but...damnit all, are you in or not?! I haven't all night to wait, we need to move before the cold-" He stops himself short and her gaze rests on the bundle, noting a soft rise and fall. He was carrying someone, presumably a child, covered in a blanket to obscure them from view. That was all she needed to see. Risks be damned she wasn't about to let a kid suffer.The Skyfire Locks were heavily guarded as one of Ishgard's primary defenses against Dravanian forces in the area, and the dwelling of this botanist was on a hill not even a malm away, overlooking the emplacement. Sarha drew a cowl around her head, her horns creating an unsettling silhouette as she led the nameless man around the patrols as best she could. Just when she thought they were clear she heard a commanding shout.
"You there! What are you doing skulking about!?" Before she can even reply the Xaela draws a large sword with one hand, struggling to hold up the figure on his back with the other "Sod it all.. You want some come and get it!" He growls at the knight, the bloodlust in his eyes clear but mixed with...concern?Sarha stepped forward and levelled her magitek axe as it whirred to life and emitted an ominous glow over her figure. "Back up. This is what you hired me for, no?"
As the first knight rushed her, lance in hand, she swung wide and twisted the haft of her weapon to slam the flat of her axe into his chest. It knocked him clear on his ass and might have cracked a rib but wasn't lethal. "What are you doing??" the man hissed.
She pales and in a sudden movement turns and swings in the direction the voice came from, cleaving another knight in two with enough force to hurl his torso fulms away. "Shut up!!!"
She looks around with wild eyes at the faltering knights, some look about to be sick at the sight of their comrade. The Miqo'te shaped shade from before stood among them, more defined than before with a clearly feminine figure. Sarha felt the familiar grip of the beast around her soul as she roared and rushed forward, shoulder checking an archer even as an arrow sinks into her arm and spinning in the direction of the figure to cut down two more. Every time it seems she is about to strike the shade, she's somewhere else. "Get out of my head you damn demon!"
He swears "You don't even know what that was, do you? Let me spell it out for you. That little voice in the back of your head? The one scratching at the surface to scream the things you avoid even thinking.. If you don't get a handle on it, you'll burn out. You can harness that potential or waste it and your life both. What'll it be?" He glances at the cabin. "That Roiteloin fellow is beckoning me. I expect an answer when I return."When the man returned he was disgruntled at best. It would seem the girl needed time to be monitored so multiple doses of medication could be administered. Sarha knew something had to be done about her worsening situation, so she took the offer. If it was that or death, there was really no choice. She always had resolved to survive at all costs. That wasn't about to change now.The concept was rather simple. The voice represented a part of her, fundamental, whether she liked it or not. The more she denied this truth the worse the discordance would become until the churning energies consumed her. If she could achieve harmony though there were arts that would allow her to turn her very emotions into a weapon unlike any other. The week went by quickly as she learned the ways of the Dark Knight. Strength is Pain. Strength is Suffering. Strength is Sacrifice. The experiences that break lesser men and women sharpen the Dark Knight into a force of change pointed at the throats of those who use their authority given to protect instead to oppress and control.As she prepared to see her charge back to the gates of judgement he stabbed a bloodstained bastard sword into the ground. "Your payment, taken from one of those poor bastards you cut down. Listen to what your darkness has to teach you and you'll be fine." Sarha strapped the large blade alongside her axe and finally made to leave this frigid wasteland for warmer climes. She had much to consider before returning to the Maelstrom...
Disparate Fates
The echoes of one's past; louder than any screamN'Sarha made her way through the lands of the Black Shroud with every intent to purchase passage back to Limsa Lominsa. Whilst waiting in the Carline Canopy she heard chatter about a skirmish that had broken out at Baelsar's Wall while she was in Coerthas. It almost sounded too good to be true. The alliance was going to finally take action regarding the Ala Mihgo situation, but of course that made things...complicated for the ex-centurion.To return to that land, especially now, would only invite trouble. Be it natives who suffered at her hands or imperials who would know of her transformation and attempt to recapture her. Unfortunately this meant that if she were to return to her post with the Maelstrom she would inevitably be thrust into Gyr Abania.Going back to Limsa Lominsa was out of the question but perhaps that was for the best, as there was another place her newfound skills would surely be needed. Leaving her airship ticket on her seat she turns and leaves the city, heading south for the deserts of Thanalan. The city may have stabilized after the recovery of her Grace the Sultana, but the people of her homeland still suffered in those shaded places where the flames cannot watch.If she was going to take up arms against the corrupt brass blades and those other individuals who would use the Ala Mihgan's desire for freedom to twist them towards selfish ends, she would need a change of attire. Something simple and less eye catching, lacking the Storm red that marked her as a woman of the Maelstrom would do. Clad in dark plate designed for a balance of defense and footwork, she took the bloodied bastard sword in hand and got to work as a Dark Knight should. Alone and out of sight of the law.In all her overthinking of allegiances of the past, the wandering blade forgot a visceral truth about the present. Keeping her head down, pretending, shunning that side of her; yes it affected her emotionally, but the separation ran so much deeper and in accepting it she gave a voice to parts of her she didn't even know existed. As a soldier she fought beast tribes, and when brought against man she avoided lethality, but t'was never the way of the Dark Knight to stay ones hand from the wicked.So it was that she took to hunting like a lioness in the dark. The panicked footfalls and gasps of terror of the scattering units only drove her on. She told herself that it was righteous fury. These cravens who would prey on her countrymen in their darkest time, when hope was just within reach and the powers that be were too preoccupied to protect them...they deserved to feel terror in their final moments. One moonless night she learned all too late just how much she had changed. One of her targets...she couldn't tell you who if she tried...had suffered a glancing slash and fled with a trickling trail of crimson ichor whilst his comrades would die where they stand. Sarha inhaled deeply as her eyes gleamed red in the moonlight the way they might if the inner beast was taking control. This was all her however, for when she went under the knife that inner beast was the seed from which The Demon would truly blossom. "What is that scent...." she mumbled to herself in the way one might upon catching the aroma of a freshly seared steak on the wind.She broke into a sprint, her blade carving a path through any obstacle as she felt her heart pound in her chest. The feeling of the hunt was raw, defying all definition. When she leapt and landed on her prey, driving her blade through his back and into the ground, she had scarcely a moment to process before her teeth sunk into his still-warm flesh and RIPPED.It was good...better than she ever would dare admit to herself. It felt right in a way that could only be described as animalistic. As she caught a glimpse of her nightmarish visage, her snowy fur stained sanguine around her maw, she saw that she was everything Garlemald claimed she was. Conflicting feelings rose within her breast as she turned and made herself scarce from the scene of the slaughter. On one hand, she felt guilt that she might ever prove their oppressors right and wondered if such things lurked in the hearts of all 'savage' races who boast animalistic traits...or just her. On the other claw, it felt so so good to use these gifts to mete justice out where the self-proclaimed 'just' wouldn't.Her mind thus clouded and still smelling of blood and seawater, she roamed aimlessly until she stumbled upon an ad for a public bathhouse that was open late and known for its no-questions-asked policy. She found herself at the door perhaps without ever even understanding why. Upon entering she checked in, paid her fee, and made her way downstairs to an atmosphere of steam and dim lighting. Individuals of all shapes and sizes mingled about, though those who wished to be left alone seemed to be. Without further ado she disrobed and stowed her bastard sword and collapsed axe so she may shower and deal with the...matted fur, gods there was so much but the bath was everything she needed.She took this time to think, to...make her next move. Yes, planning was much easier than facing what just happened. Maybe she just needed an outlet. Maybe, she convinces herself, if she takes on work where she can unleash those tendencies, this wont happen again.So on the morn she was back in Ul'dah to visit the quicksand. This became her routine for the next few moons. She would earn coin taking on dangerous, violent work, and then unwind at the bathhouse she had discovered. One particular evening whilst perusing the job boards one listing in particular catches her eye, made distinct by how simply outlandish it sounded.
Seeking: One brave soul to venture into the abandoned labs of Azys Lla and return with research data and biological samples from the dragon Tiamat, said to be kept there.The listed price was more than she typically made in a fortnight. She had heard the rumors, that amidst the Dragonsong Crisis in the north the Warrior of Light had shattered the aetheric barrier around the facilities of Azys Lla that were once thought to be mere Myth. The region was free for plunderers but few had risked it due to the dangers involved. This sounded like insanity, but if she succeeded she'd be set up for quite some time, she'd get more than her fair challenge, and worst case scenario she dies.She checked with Mistress Momodi to make it known she intended to take the job and to confirm it's validity. The sharp eyed lalafellian proprietress informed Sarha that the client was a Vieran woman who did indeed present proof of payment upon submitting the job. It was official and it was now assigned to N'Sarha. Now all she had to do was pull it off.===================================
TO BE CONTINUED
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Catenae aureae
True freedom through bondage...COMING SOON