[Kiritsubo twirls her hand, the thick crimson of the blood pool trailing down her twist and forearm to the call of gravity. She cannot help the little chuckle when her companion brings up women who refuse to marry, because... No, the sort of apocryphal texts that came up with the Blood Pool Hell surely had similar or worse fates in mind for such "sin".]

Men have always been incredibly stupid about where their power actually comes from.

[It's said with a sigh, because really... It was terribly foolish of them, and yet, so terribly intrinsic to the gender. A true shame.]

I'm not going to lie... I would be very amused to see them deal with even a fifth of the pain of childbirth.

[Her bloody hand drifts slowly over her belly, tracing over it as though it might be swollen with a babe instead of flat, her stained fingernails leaving red lines over pale skin and the red peony tattooed over her womb. Her own eyes wander up the other woman's body, leisurely taking her in, imagining how slow the lace would soak up blood, but eventually... she lingers on the throat, and the mark there. Her own three of spades is on her right breast on a bed of honeycomb, the twin to her actual tattoo of a wasp on dripping comb on her left.

Roses, hmm? She pulls her fingers from her belly long enough to point.]

Does it suit you? That fake tattoo's design.