Purple and Dull!

The cool gush of each new berry you pop between your teeth is quite refreshing. The exotic sea breakfast Arro had treated you to during your stay as his guest was a fun change of pace, but you much preferred the comfort of your juicy trail snacks. How you enjoy the quiet evenings like these, shuffled away from it all atop a sturdy tree. The view of the last bits of sunlight fading over the distant horizon was always a lovely sight, and tonight was no exception. Your fiddling with the latch on your bag slows and is eventually forgotten, if only temporarily, as you drink it all in. The gentle breeze buffets the limbs around you and the small insects of the night begin to sing their songs, the serenity granting you a bit of peace.

Nothing lasts forever, of course, and you must eventually rouse yourself from the scenic embrace nature holds over you. Again your hands move to the satchel and with one quick motion, the bag flaps open to reveal its contents. Thumbing through the items, you quickly find what you’re after and extract the hardened bark map you received in Cove Crest. Another berry finds its delicious end with a snap of your jaws as you hold the wood up to the first rays of moonlight.

Everything is still as you remember it, the markings left by Lyra to show you on your way. Though, you seem to have trouble focusing on the chart. The night's cool wind wafting about your makeshift camp is like heaven on your tired muscles. The air itself has a subtle tinge of sweetness to it, almost as if you'd laid down in a bed of wildflowers. Odd, considering you hadn't seen any patches between the trees during your hike, though it was likely just a fragrance carried by the gentle gusts floating above the canopy. Admittedly the peaceful setting, combined with your earlier exertion was starting to tug at your eyelids. Another disgruntled sigh comes from your acceptance that nothing will come from a half hearted attempt, and you slip the map back into your bag.

Annoyed as you are by further delaying your interest, the evening's spell does well to soothe the frustration. Leaves fall freely in the wind, and the grace of the rising moon makes a perfect set piece for finishing your meal. With a full belly and the soft bedding cradling you, it's not long before the pleasant smelling air has your eyes drifting closed. Exactly as the silently fluttering moth above your nest was hoping for. As you begin to drift off, that sugary odor grows noticeably thicker and soon, each of your heavy inhalations is saturated with it.

Something’s wrong…

The hazy thought is difficult to form in your weary mind. Even during your day-long training sessions with your clan you’d never felt THIS exhausted before. “Nn-nggh…” the words slur as they leave your mouth, cementing the concern building within you. With a fair amount of struggle, you pry open your eyes and **** yourself to sit up in the nook. The moon shines brightly through the canopy now, and with the newfound lunar rays, you catch the slightest glimpse of a shimmer wafting through the trees. Strained hard against the pull of sleep, you focus on the falling particulates and come to the sudden realization that they appear to be falling around your nest specifically.

Now certain that there’s trouble afoot, you grit your teeth and summon your remaining strength to tug yourself from the embrace of the tree, rolling off the branch to land clumsily upon another below. The sweetness is still present here, though your efforts are rewarded with a much needed lungful of mostly normal oxygen. You drag yourself forward along the treelimb to get out from under whatever was tainting your nostrils. With each new breath you feel some of your stamina returning, so much so that you are even able to get to a stand, wobbly as it may be.

Lucky for you because as soon as you do, a shrill cry like nails on stone disturbs the quiet evening, and you feel a gust of wind whip by your ducking head. When you look up from your crouch, you are met by the purple eyed visage of a Venomoth hovering but a few meters from your perch. The woman, as easily identified by her silken bust bouncing with every flap of her wings, sports two long legs that end in at her fuzzy hips, along with two slender arms that are held outstretched, looking ready to capture you on her next pass. Her face is drawn up in a predatory sneer, fangs bared can clearly intent on making you suffer. Her wings shimmer with the same powdery emissions as seen earlier with more of it being produced every time she flexes them. You have found your culprit.

You are hesitant to make the first move, still weak from that devilish mist she had been spreading, and take every second she’ll give you to recover. Seemingly guessing your thoughts, she propels herself forward with an insectoid battle cry. Even with your unsteady balance, you are able to dodge the tackle, leaping to a branch further away from her. She gives you little time to rest as you watch her come about and attempt to dive-bomb you from above. Again, despite the fatigue in your limbs, you are able to use the vegetation as cover to retreat away from the lunge. As she streaks by, cleanly missing your agile figure once more, it becomes clear that even in this state, her speed is nothing compared to your own. The thought emboldens you, and a plan begins to take shape in your mind.

Another charge, this time from beneath you, and another skillful dodge has you again safely out of harm's way. As you slow a moment to catch your breath, you are delighted to see the Moth woman panting just as hard as you, if not a little more so. This is what you wanted. To have the girl exhaust herself so you’d be able to deliver a quick blow to finish the ****. Her eyes burn with apparent frustration and you return the look with a cocky smile, goading her to continue. She does as expected, and you counter her lackluster bullrush with ease, leaping toward the first branch you’d rolled onto after detecting the sleeping powder. All the jumping about really has your blood flowing and you think nothing of it when taking a large gulp of air the moment you land.

“Ack-Kkack..!” The dust still lingers here and a brief coughing fit notifies you of this fact. The air still reeks of the deceptively sweet haze and not wanting to feel its effects again, you quickly make your way to another bough nearby. Again you land, and again your senses are assaulted by the odor. With a growl of annoyance, you hop yet a third time, **** to find a pocket of fresh air to fill your straining chest. You have worryingly similar luck with the next limb, and are **** to take a full inhale of the stuff just to appease your hungry lungs. As the tingling in your extremities begins to creep into your nerves once more, your distressed face is met with the wicked grin of the Moth woman, beaming down in delight as HER plans begin to dawn on you.

Damn your shortsightedness!

The self scolding is cut short as the woman dives back in for another swipe, this time making it obvious he intent was not to hit, but to disperse more of that **** miasma. A shaky hop to the trunk of the tree sees you safe from her clutches but you are left wide open for the intoxicants raining from above. By now, your fur is fully coated in the stuff, thus turning your own body into something of a vector for spreading the cursed material. Your resistance stubbornly holds out for another minute or so, the Moth leisurely following behind at a safe distance, merely ensuring that you are **** to keep moving through her clouds of numbing powder.

When at last your legs refuse to heed your command, it’s all you can do to slump forward against the bark to avoid falling from the tree altogether. In your weakened state, you can only look on in mounting dread as your pursuer hovers above you, a look of supreme confidence across her face. After taking a few moments to make certain you are indeed helpless, her wings fold neatly behind her and she drops the last meter or so to land daintily before you. Energy now totally sapped by her insidious ploy, you can barely flinch as she saunters up to your prone form, making no attempts to hide the droll streaming from her fanged maw.

Crouching low and gripping the scruff of your neck in one swift motion, she drags up to stare at her eye to eye. Shivering in her iron grip, you don’t even have the stamina to whimper in fear as you see a long indigo tongue lap at her bottom lip, no doubt imagining what you might taste like. Not satisfied for long with just fantasy, she inches forward until you hang face to maw and that slimy appendage cups your chin before taking a long experimental drag up and over your muzzle. Tears begin to form as your fate becomes ever more certain, solidified by another saliva coated lap over your blushing cheek.

I- I’ve failed…

*LAP*

Someone… Please..!

*Slurp*

Your misery is consistently interrupted by the continual pecks and suckles planted on your dampening face. Going by the gleam in the girls' otherwise dull eyes, you were delicious. The thought is not a comforting one and her tasting proves not to satiate the hunger welling up from her growling stomach. Hopes for a rescue or some divine intervention are destroyed when you see those lavender lips part and the dark purple flesh of her throat undulating before you. Basking in your fear, the Venomoth cruelly exhales a dank, vaporous breath right into your cringing face, no doubt enjoying your weak struggles against the inevitable. In the end, her games take a back seat to the ravenous craving that so defines her infected existence. With little more care than you had towards the berries you’d been popping, your head is similarly **** through her jaws until your muzzle lodged in her throat.

It isn’t stuck long, however, as you feel a clawed grip clasp your shoulders and guide them through. Powerful gulps now take hold of your face and draw the entirety of your head past her maw and well into her craw. Arms, limp and useless are subsequently pinned to your hips as they, too, pass the point of no return, a large swallow claiming your pelvis soon after. The descent slows for a moment as the devious bug gets a taste for your flavorful sheath, her murmurs of delight vibrating all around you. Whether her playtime has any effect on you isn’t known as the haze whirling in your brain limits what you can feel. Whatever the case, she soon has her fill of your boy bits and takes them into herself, as well. Scarcely a moment later all that remains of Kale the Sneasel are two limb legs dangling from the slavering maw of a feral moth. The ever present hunger cursing the girl offers your paws no quarter as they are given only a few glancing laps before being gulped and sent down to meet with the rest of your curling form.

Numbing weariness… The truest form of exhaustion the Sneasel had ever felt washes over him as surely as the stomach's juices do. Aided by the sleeping powder ingested during their fight, the cat isn’t long for the waking world and quickly, it succumbs. A deep sleep from which none have returned… The feline's suffering is at an end, much to the joy of the fluffy moonlight hunter now serving as his tomb. A yawn slipping from her temporarily sated maw is a sorry note for anyone to go out on. Though the kitty turned evening meal didn't have much say in the matter. _As the Venomoth woman sprawls out upon the branch her hands rub idly at her belly, teasing the morsel churning within. Waiting for her stomach to do its duty, her empty eyes turn to the streaks of moonlight that shone through the trees. Within the rays of nocturnal light, her lovely dust clouds continue to wisp about the leaves. With a satisfied smile, she reclines against the trunk of the tree and wills her belly to be swift with the cat. The night was still young after all and there were still so many delicious snacks to enjoy~