The moon whose name only a select few know or care to recall turns on its' axis at a speed coincidental with around two standard-days. The face of the barren, frozen wasteland never rises above freezing point of course, however, the temperatures of day and night are nonetheless a dramatic comparison.
This one particular morning amongst the untold thousands the permafrost had experienced in its' history sees a young Bretonian woman lying sound asleep in a warm, comfortable bed dug underneath the crust of a sheer, jagged cliff face which may have served as the banks of an ocean or river many, many aeons ago which has long since vanished.
The bright, unfiltered light of the system's solitary star bathes the tundra in blinding whiteness, reflecting off the surface directly into the eyes of whomsoever should be foolish enough to gaze upon it unshielded. This same light trickles through the small windows of the subterranean quarters the head of the McDowell Company called her new home, rousing the woman from slumber.
She passes her eyes around the room; its' furnishings and liveability outstandingly opposed to the context of the terrain surrounding it. Plastered walls bathed in a soft, baby blue paint; a warm and comfortable carpet upon a flat concrete floor; a finished ceiling with light fixtures; a wooden dresser and tables surrounding a luxurious, queen-sized bed containing the young blonde and her Kusarian partner.
Although she was now wide awake, the older of the two women quickly became aware that her partner was yet to join her "on the surface" - out cold in the land of slumber. She rolls onto her side and furtively slides over, finishing tucked behind her. Without a word and only the barest whispers of any noise she raises her torso off the soft, cushioned mattress and gently brings her teeth to rest upon the Kusarian maiden's right ear.
The frame of the victim shuffles slightly, the raven-haired girl roused from sleep and introduced to the sensation of a person nibbling on her ear; muffled giggles escaping between her attackers' teeth. Without words, she rolls over in her position to face the woman who'd so mercilessly stolen her rest, forcing the assailant to release her ear lobe.
Eva...
What ever happened to using an alarm clock?
The blonde girl paused for a moment, considering her reply.
This is more fun, wouldn't you agree?
Without being given any time to consider a rebuttal, the girl's lips were sealed with her offenders' own; an invading tongue ensuring she was in no position to make any reply.
Bodies shuffled around, the thick duvet offering regal discretion atop the pair's otherwise naked forms. The procession concluded with the blonde woman resting herself atop her younger partner in the dominate position, the two intertwined in each others' arms, the heat of passion overtaking them along with the rising sun outside.
Amidst the caressing, warm touches the two exchanged, the older woman's hand slid down the Kusarians' torso, gliding over her soft, pale skin around her slender, pubescent hips and between her unprotected thighs. A slight moan of excitement escapes the teenagers' lips, her own carnal urges excited in parallel to the woman partaking in the beauty of her being.
At that moment the unmistakable, violent screeching of a newborn baby breaks out over the entirety of the facility. Anyone who had not yet been awake immediately prior no longer bore any hope of returning to their slumber. The rocky, empty hallways of the underground facility channelled the babies' screams throughout the installation, claiming victims not only from sleep but also the activities of the pair in the masters' bedroom - one of whom was the vocal demoness' mother.
A heavy sigh emanates from mums' lips as she promptly abandons the mornings events. She roughly clambers out of the bed, locates and applies a mis-matched selection of "comfort clothing" and swaggers over the remains of the discarded pile of clothing to the heavy steel door adjoining the room to the rest of the facility. She groggily lumbers the door open and slides out, doing the same immediately after for the room containing the source of all the fuss - a two-and-a-half month old baby girl bearing the name of Sanya.
Upon entering the smaller, artificially lit room sunk slightly deeper into the cliff face, she promptly walks over to the epicentre of the current disaster, scoops her up in a loving embrace and holds the infant close to her chest.
You have some really bad timing, sweetheart. Here - breakfast is ready!
The infant almost instantly quietens down, the warmth of her mother acting as comfort. She unhesitatingly latches on to mum's presented nipple and begins suckling, mum supporting the greedy baby in her arms.
The other half of the ruined encounter casually enters the room, boasting much the same attire as her partner. It becomes apparent the two girls - of almost identical build despite the age difference - had swapped clothes unintentionally at some point.
At least she's easily pleased. Reminds me of a certain someone I know around here.
The girl giggles softly, looking down upon the achingly beautiful scene the infant's feeding presented to her. Although she herself was not of an age nor in any social position to bear a child herself, she still experienced maternal urges and desires as any other woman would.
The governess casually strolls back into her own quarters, painstakingly avoiding any disturbance of her hellspawns' feeding. She deftly reclines into an armchair strategically positioned to provide a view through the portal windows over the extensive external landing pad and hangar bays of the installation.
The girls should be back from the trip to Manhattan some time today, if I recall correctly.
Clear the landing pad for when they arrive. I can see crap parked all over the place that shouldn't be there.
Lording over the myriad of small, rag-tag craft that adorned her landing pad, the company head reclined into the seat she'd provided herself and nonchalantly hums the theme for a certain telephone-operated hypergate-themed television drama show which appeared on Bretonian spacewaves many years ago.
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