Hours. The Queen of Knights spent hours being pummeled to near death by the King of Heroes. Each and every plunge being something she couldn't deny liking even as she was certain nothing had ever stopped between them this night. She'd slept to this, she'd woken to this... was this what she was resigning herself to for eternity? There were worse things she supposed. Among the things she found both pleasant and not, was the sensation of Gilgamesh withdrawing himself from her depths. Such an exodus caused a strange feeling to occur she was certain she could feel the pressure of her loins release all the seed he'd pumped into her. Perhaps she should have been thinking more about what it meant for her to accept this constant stream of his family jewels. But alas, she thought not much of anything besides the pleasantries of this situation. Of course, it could be said that the smallest sound of protest left her lips as he withdrew. No one told him to stop, ah, but they did not always continue such things. There were changes to be made different positions to try and more indulgences to undertake.
When did this become a part of her life? What was he saying now? She was sitting up, tossing around blond locks with one hand while seeming a bit out of sorts. Her legs were tingling as she moved them, the muscles in them jumping in protest as she thought of anything like rising. She'd not agreed to falling, she'd made herself wrong, he'd allow her defiance. "I asked not for allowances. I am defiant by my own right you will deal with it..." she said almost curtly. Of course, it was impossible to take such a statement seriously when she was obviously still recovering from their most recent bout tossing her hair around like it was the only real part of her body to cling to. "How will I rise? I wonder that myself. Rising is, admittedly not something I have given much conventional thought to in the last few hours. You have no one to blame but yourself for that..." she said finally leaving her hair be to stare at the man before her. The only thing she'd given thought to as far as rising is concerned was the rise and fall of her own chest, as she tried to breathe. The rise and fall of Gilgamesh's body into her own, the rise and fall of her own consciousness as stars dotted her eyes and even the rise of the sun after it had fallen from the sky the previous day. The morning sun was here and it shined over this bed, surely this would come with the oppressive heat of the desert sun, she should want a bath before sweat set in, but she was also feeling strangely less interested in physical activities that did not involve the King of Heroes buried inside her. What a strange thing to think about...