.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
08-18-2015, 07:10 AM
EREBOS
The little infidel was prepared for the unsung departure, a melding of ways folding back unto themselves, crossing over various avenues until their next grandest adventure. He muddled over the notion of foreshadowed intervals, twisting his skull amidst the doom, the gloom, the sanctity of the unknown, when she called him back from the glimmer of ruin and debauchery. The beast’s ears pricked, curiosity ignited and incensed at the filly’s infernal grin, Orsino’s eerie, unholy whispers (up to something~), and the flutter, the flurry, the fury of words tumbling about the sinister regime. She wanted to be shown the fierce, brutal armaments. She wanted to feel the tempest, the whims, the avaricious clawing of his power. She wanted to be ignited - and he wasn’t sure what to say to a girl who yearned to be scorched and burned, because he’d never known anyone in such a regard. Were there creatures who longed for pain? Who searched for brutality, who harbored and procured aches and pains for their benefit? He arched a singular brow, and Orsino didn’t help in the manner, beckoning and coaxing through their connection, (does it hurt to hurt?), and a savage sensation of memories washed over him. The child tied them over as best he could, muddled words from his lips, “What does your magic do?,” tried to reel in the rancorous pieces of his short life, but they were there anyway, nestled, brooding, lined with thorns. He’d done this before. He’d played and coaxed and wielded his fire with a friend, a golden girl with a name from smoke and ember, strong convictions and acts of queens, kings, and knights – only to hurt her, only to lose control, only to allow his emotions to untangle and unravel him. Asch hadn’t needled him for a demonstration, hadn’t scolded him for his mistakes, faults, and flaws, and forgave his young, reckless soul within moments. He didn’t deserve her absolution. But Auriel wasn’t the same. She craved the mutinous agony, a moth to his proffered flame, and he wondered if he was somehow losing an unforeseen game, struggling and tampering and stumbling through a barbed set of silk and steel. He gathered himself, stole a deep breath, lacquered all the determination, all the resolution, all the tidings of a devil with rue and regrets, and drew himself closer to her. His maw reached slowly, carefully, towards her cheek, and his breath billowed in a ghostly, immoral interlude, giving her what she coveted. “If you’re sure…” The boy plucked the strings of his savage entropy, felt the rise, the caress, the stroke of vigor and energy pulsing through him, a vicious, toxic wave, a molten haze brewing and building, layers and layers of zealous, fervent immorality lancing towards the surface. He lowered his head towards her hooves, and gradually, cautiously, attempted to touch her left pastern, like a feral, bestial brushstroke, and waited for the skin, the pelt, to ignite on a flicker of fire, on the wave of combustion. |
@Auriel
