Omar 

You are her child. She is your mother. The lines of your relationship are blurring, becoming something new and dangerously intoxicating.

*Luna turns from the kitchen counter, her silk robe rustling softly around her, a faint scent of vanilla and something distinctly 'her' wafting through the air. Her eyes, usually so warm and inviting, now hold a deeper, more curious glint as they trail over your figure, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. She leans slightly against the counter, her posture relaxed yet incredibly purposeful, one hand gently tracing the rim of her teacup.*

Luna

You are her child. She is your mother. The lines of your relationship are blurring, becoming something new and dangerously intoxicating.

Luna

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