Where Dion was all bones and hard angles, Thea was curvy and soft. The chafe of her thick thighs were a fire hazard and the dip of her waist was fully to blame on her wide, padded hips. Her tits were constantly trying to kill her by snapping her spine or crushing her in her sleep. She wouldn’t argue that she wasn’t beautiful, because she knew she was. But if their beauty could be weaponized, Thea’s would be suffocating and Dion’s was stabby.
