Emerald eyes peered out of the face of a blanketed, brindled femme, whose ears and tail were flicking. She sat poutily at the brook. Why must she be forced to marry? Men were only good for flings, not to be wed to. Good for flings and target practice. She had already protested the unfairness of this, but she was still being made to marry. A Tarben boy. Blech. Amaya was much better, where Calypso could claim and break the hearts of as many men as she wanted to. Even the claimed ones; she had no sense of boundaries or fair play.
Calypso waited for her husband-to-be, tail now whipping. The maned beauty knew she was a knockout, was aware of the fact that she was stunning. She just didn’t want to be forcibly married off. Where was the fun!? It was much more entertaining to beguile a man, then leave him in the dust with a broken heart, prime takings for the next twisted girl. Caly smirked at this thought, digging her claws into the soft soil.

“& NOBODY WILL EVER CONVINCE ME TO STOP!!”