On the second story of the luxurious villa, the glass walls of a gaudy balcony sauna steamed, the gluttonously large jacuzzi bubbling as though boiling - but surely it couldn't be, for the soft singing from the adjacent shower implied an intention for some dame to enter, and though the reader may or may not know it, this dame more than all others would not abide charring her fur any more than she would entering a jacuzzi unwashed.
She completed her lullaby-like rendition of "All I Want For Kinsmend" - a favorite of hers, especially with her alternative lyrics embracing the selfless and generous nature of the holiday (or perhaps vanity and superficial trinkets), and stepped out from her shower, fully nude other than the black, waterproof purse she carried.
She was a crimson Tyrvari with "socks and gloves" of black, seductive eyes and curly locks of coral, and a pair of large, full breasts currently taking liberty with their free range of motion - indeed this was Vixen, and while her form was often shadowed by the ample bounties of Dancer and Comet, she was seen as more seductive, more mature, and far more lustful than either.
She catwalked her way to the edge of her luxurious bath, gingerly toed the water to check its heat, then set down her purse by its side and glided down. She soon closed her eyes, beaming like a sleepy child, and might have fallen asleep at some risk to herself if not for the sudden emittance of a ghostly wail from her purse, not unlike a cold wind (that being a sound all Kinsmend Village knew well.)
"Goddammit," she hissed, and without any attempt to make herself decent quickly fetched out a blue stone from her purse and held it at eye level as though unimpressed with it. The wailing ceased, to be replaced with the jittery droning and static of an antenna making adjustments, the stone's glow washing through every color as though uncertain what to make of itself.
The stone soon settled on a delicate face with long, flowing curls of mauve, which took a brief moment of confusion before distorting in the facets of the gem in horror. "Eyaaagh!" came the effeminate voice. "Are you naked?!" He hid behind one hand like a bashful schoolgirl, pulling his hair over his face with the other.
Vixen smiled affectionately and batted her lashes at the elegant purple creature. She was never sure what single word could ever describe Prancer, who would often refer to himself as a "lady of the male persuasion". He was quite openly and exclusively for male affections only - part of why she was so comfortable baring her breasts in his presence - and, depending on how lonely he was, ranged in attire from articulate but modest dresses to enticing and very immodest lingerie.
Maintaining her endearing smile, Vixen found herself leaning towards "ladyboy" as the optimum moniker.
"You called me in the bath," Vixen reasoned cozily with an innocent look. "You're no bundle of blankets, sugar plum. What do you need?"
"More modest friends!" sniffed Prancer. "I still wear clothes, you know. And make them, too. I was going to ask you to come in to renew your fitting, but I think enough of your anatomy has been enlightened to me for that!" His image in the Speaking Stone tossed its head as he spoke, repeatedly pressing his face into many distorted forms courtesy of the gem's facets, settling on a fat, widened snout like a toad.
"Oh come now," Vixen cooed at the frog prince, "You always told me I was your favorite to fit -- other than Donner, of course~!" These last two words were spoken by both in unison, with Prancer taking an indignant face with raised chin and closed eyes as though daring Vixen to mention his blush.
After she managed to refrain for several seconds, he continued. "Well!" Prancer huffed. "I suppose I can't in good conscience part a girl from her sauna. How long have you been in there?"
"I'd just stepped in, actually~" she teased, although honestly, as anyone who actually bothered to read this could affirm.
"You're going to get wrinkles!" he accused.
Vixen paled, glancing down at her bosom as though fearing her modesty may crumble to dust. "D.. Don't joke about that, darling. I'll only be in here for oh, ten-twenty minutes?"
Prancer, ever the master of invention, somehow managed to scowl triumphantly. "Ha! You normally spend an hour in there. I'll be trying to find a material that can hold Miss Comet's mighty boobs until you deign to rise from your watery throne."
Vixen raised her free hand towards her face in a mildly ojou-ish giggle. "Oh don't embarrass her! You've done it so many times, darling, you should open a clothing line for Minotar girls. They have to go naked outside of the Swamp, you know."
Prancer gave an odd choking sound and shuddered. "Call me back when you are decent."
I very much tried to make Vixen voluptuous by normal standards but petite compared to Dancer and Comet.
I think I like her design the most out of the Saints, but there's no reason it absolutely has to be Christmas for me to draw and refine them. Hell I'd never get any practice if I did that!
I very much tried to make Vixen voluptuous by normal standards but petite compared to Dancer and Com
