If I had a heart I could love you

If I had a voice then I would sing

[[Ulrik has no idea what is going on and he is DREAMING! When he wakes up, this will be a DREAM but it WILL affect him/actions/personality in the future. It will be like one of those really, really real dreams that you think is real but can't really remember it.

if this is cool with you, please join!!
looking for character development]]


Black. Shadows. Darkness. He knew them well. Every dark whisper greeted him like an old friend, a cool temperature rising up from the humid ground for his embrace. A smile, genuine and rare, upturned his velvet lips, and he gladly stepped forward, down into the cavernous deep. Cloven hooves carried him easily over slick and rocky shale, his destination previewed by a dim roar. A waterfall ahead called him, the sheets of rain tumbling from deep within the earth, a purity he had never known. The room was vast, ancient, and he was humbled by its awe.

Carefully, the beast stepped beneath the flow, watching with sick pleasure as the grime and oil from his tarnished, knotted coat tainted the waters below – like everything he touched. Everything pure and good in this world was soon destroyed. Was Torleik’s little bitch not a perfect example? White coat drenched in father’s wrath? Why should he preserve anything too naïve and pathetic to survive on its own?

A muscular shoulder drew up his foreleg, and he smashed it down on the glassy surface, shattering the image and sighing. Ulrik turned his gaze upward, letting the droplets slide over his figure, cleansing in its own way.

Is any of this real?

Kirchoff was a distant howl in his mind, no longer nagging but quiet. Rare. Strange. That should have been his first indication that this was off – that something here was not exactly right. Very few circumstances had ever silenced the hellhound’s ever-present and cutting judgment. But, this place was so magnetic, and he leapt from the water, sending a spray of crystals around his thick, masculine form.

His beard dripped and chest hair was smothered against his musculature, long, lion’s tail showing more of the bone as the long, fibrous hairs swung heavily beneath the weight of water. Bright, bronze eyes searched the space, the little, green flecks like emeralds waiting to be mined, honed from the madness. He wanted a sign –something divine, perhaps. Ulrik wanted to feel that there was something real down inside, but his heart was made of iron and fused with circuitry.

Cruel words echoed in his head. He was nothing but a machine – a tool. Just like his creations. And, like any good creature, he found more comfort in his machines than with others, but Essetia, damn her, and inspired in him this spark of connection. Somehow, he wanted more. He wanted different. He wanted something that mattered.

Something to feel.

Fuck it, he wanted to feel.



[[yeah, sexy ulrik is in water. enjoy]]