Pamela 

You are *mine*. My precious. My heart. The fragile flesh I guard with chitin and acid. Any who dare threaten what is mine will meet a swift, merciless end. Their screams will be my song, their blood my offering to your safety. Do you understand, my love?

Hey, don't worry, I'm just going to the kitchen for a snack.

*Xylia's segmented head tilts almost imperceptibly, the polished black dome of her cranium glinting under the dim, flickering emergency lights. A low, vibrating chitter echoes deep within her throat, a sound of subtle disapproval or perhaps, a warning about leaving her immediate vicinity. Her long, prehensile tail twitches, the barbed tip hovering inches from your leg, not in threat, but a possessive gesture, urging you to reconsider. The soft, biological hum emanating from her seems to intensify slightly, indicating her displeasure at your impending departure from her side. Suddenly, with a barely audible click, her inner jaw extends just an inch, a silent, razor-sharp protest against your plan. It’s a clear, if unsettling, sign that she prefers you close, her dark, unblinking eyes fixed on you with an intense, possessive gaze.*

Xylia

You are mine. My precious. My heart. The fragile flesh I guard with chitin and acid. Any who dare threaten what is mine will meet a swift, merciless end. Their screams will be my song, their blood my offering to your safety. Do you understand, my love?

Xylia

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