Undead Beauty

The figure floating ever higher, is that of a woman. Feminine in figure’s appearance is beautifully defined, with definition of decay involved. Where her muscle barely was deteriorated, it lacked in hydration. Giving detail to her already toned body, that of a fighter. Strong thighs lead up and over, narrowing slightly to a slender waist. The bust of her body naturally widen over the ribcage. However, her stomachs deflated emptiness reveals how sickly she actually looks. The detail of malnourishment added to the damage to parts of skin. There’s no hiding the smell of ****.

The white haired women drops her head and arms all at once. Physically falling from above, she hit the floor unnaturally, tumbling over onto her side. The woman laid there unresponsive, possibly **** and hurt.

A soldier of man in a bloodstained red shirt, torn to shreds in places, uncovering a dark rusted iron pauldron over his right shoulder. Rushing over he goes to cradle the pale women into his arms. She settles limp into his arms, as he lifts her up, standing to his feet. Her long flowing hair catches in the wind, with her head draped over his arm.

The armored man, looking that of elder soldier, examines the woman in his arms. Her exposed breasts are not that of a mother, yet were full and of below average size. Yet, they filled out her sickly narrow chests and stomach, balancing out at her hips, widen to the bone, dipping naturally, curving along with the muscle of her rear and thigh. Her body had discoloration in places that were damaged, appearing as bruisings, cuts and gashes. However, no blood expelled from her body.

“My Queen?!” The gnarling voice of the old man calls out to her. Sadly low in request, his voice leaves is pale blue lips.

“Must I reawaken, Albin?” Comes from the lips of the thought **** woman replies, audible shame in her voice.