| Deceased |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15'2 :: 5 Buff: NOVICE |
| Adoptable |
11-21-2013, 10:19 PM
(This post was last modified: 11-21-2013, 10:20 PM by Vulture.)
Vulture
There will be no escape cause he's fallen far from grace
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My body sill aches, but I am in better condition than before, well, physically speaking. My mind is still foggy and polluted with the smog of the past and present. Along with that, I now have others making resident within my already filled mind, which is honestly the last thing I need. Neither of my voices are proving to be of any help, Nightingale is a coward and I can’t decipher Kestrel for the life of me. That’s what I get for having a mare in my mind; she’ll just run me around in circles. I can handle the type of women that are on my level of sanity and seem like it, but Kestrel is so far off the deep end. In that moment, I hear her giggling like a maniac in the back of my head.
Vulture, you seem so ungrateful. I’m just here to help you honey. I want you to be the greatest you can be, I want you to be the monster you are meant to be. Kestrel coos and I am sure if she had a body of her own, she would be batting preposterously long eyelashes and me. “Quite the temptress for manhater,” I say with an irritated snort. “I would think you would want my head severed from my body and lapping up my blood.” Kestrel gives out a long laugh, and I stop and snort once again. This mare is so difficult.
You’re my exception Vulture, I find you so delightfully broken, I can piece you back together and make you something marvelous. Besides, I needed a vessel and you happened to be open. I shake my head and just keep walking. Conversing with the voice is incredibly useless, at least Nightingale makes sense when he crawls out of his hiding spot. I’m not sure where these two came from, but I sense they might be a peace offering. Maybe someday I’ll pick up the pieces of my broken self and start back up the war, but for now it’s about me, not the damned Sinners.
I soon realize I’ve wandered into a strange pace. It’s a meadow and seems peaceful enough. Better than that godforsaken marsh. This place doesn’t have the bodies in the depths of the bogs wanting to pull you down and there isn’t those disgusting gnats, which are by far the worst part of that place. This would be the perfect place to find a nice stallion and… gut him.
I hiss in response to Kestrel’s suggestions. “I don’t kill just for the hell of it. Unlike you I have better things to do than roll in the entrails of a dead fool.” My ears are swiveled back and I snort. “Do me a favor and shut the hell up, I’m tired of your ‘advice’ because it isn’t helpful.” I wait for a long moment to see if Kestrel has some sass to throw at me, but much to my pleasure she remains silent. A sigh of relief escapes my nostrils and I take this opportunity for some peace. I find a small pool and drink from it. There is sweat on my sides from the heat of the day, and I know I should probably rest soon because of the wounds I received from those cannibal nutcases. My teeth clench at the thought of them, and I feel anger swell up inside me. What I would give to slit their throat.
Find someone’s insides to spill and devour. Kestrel whispers, That will help you settle your rage. “SHUT UP!” I scream. “Be quiet! Be quiet! Be quiet!” I smash my hoof into the ground. “Killing isn’t the answer to everything.” I growl, quieter than before.
@[Histe]
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Image Credit
| Deceased |
| Mare :: Equine :: 15.1 :: 5 Buff: NOVICE |
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Merikh :: Cougar :: Paralyze
ali |
It had been a beautifully bloody morning for Histe and Merikh. The pair had stalked and hunted and feasted until they were both sated and somewhat content. They had even found a place to bed down for a nap that was filled with dreams of blood and gore and when the pair had awoken they found that their bloodlust had been renewed and they were very discontent.
What could the pair do besides go on another hunt?
Another ruined body lay before her hooves, entrails scattered around her, skull smashed, and blood pooling into a beautiful crimson puddle. Histe stared at her reflection in the puddle and grinned before a hoof struck the still surface of it violently. Crimson ran in rivulets down the mare's face and chest and she turned her gaze on the cat who was licking the blood from his fur. Merikh paused long enough to look at his bonded before he continued to clean his fur. That was where the pair differed. Histe enjoyed being caked in the blood of those she mercilessly slaughtered. She enjoyed the looks she got when others realized it was blood that she was wearing.
It was her war paint and she was always at war.
"Come on." She said gruffly to the cat as she jerked her head to the side. As Histe turned to leave the body behind she paused then reached down and grabbed at a length of intestine that had been severed. It glistened in the daylight and made a sickening squelching noise as she slung it over her back and it wrapped around her neck. The brindled mare laughed and trotted forward, leaving the ruined body behind for someone else to find and gawk at as they often did.
“I don’t kill just for the hell of it. Unlike you I have better things to do than roll in the entrails of a dead fool.”
Histe had not gone very far when she heard the stallion's voice and altered her course to intercept him. He continued to talk and Histe continued to listen and silently judge the stallion as a weakling for his assumed aversion to killing and rolling in blood. He was no seasoned killer, in her mind, if he had not celebrated a kill by rolling in the blood of the ones he had slain. Weak, weak, weak.
“Killing isn’t the answer to everything.”
"Says who?" She asked in her rough voice. Rather than hide from sight Histe made herself seen. What would he think of her? Would he see her as a harbinger of death, decorated in blood and entrails as she was. A harbinger of destruction? Or the crazy mare driven by an insatiable desire for blood that she was? "Killing." She began, her face contorting into a wicked grin, "Is, indeed, the answer to everything."
@[Vulture]
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| Deceased |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15'2 :: 5 Buff: NOVICE |
| Adoptable |
Vulture
There will be no escape cause he's fallen far from grace
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I am not alone it seems. A mare comes near and I immediately recognize. Eris’s attack dog, Histe is it? Oh it really doesn’t matter. Maybe I should feel unsettled by the entrails wrapped around her neck, but I find the fact she decided to use the entrails as a garland disgusting, just because of the fact it’s an intestine rather than being concerned for the life lost for her gory choice in accessory. My mind then focuses her words. Of course, killing is everything for her, I mean she decorates herself with dead things. Maybe she should lace some teeth as beads into her hair and hang a liver from her tail. Isn’t that just a charming thought? I almost chuckle but choose not to piss her off since I’m not in the mood for a fight.
”There my friend is a true queen. One who isn’t afraid to decorate herself with the blood of weaklings.” Kestrel purrs and the sound is disturbing. ”Someday you’ll find such an appearance the epitome of sexiness.” I almost snap that she’s crossed the line, but bite my tongue before the words come out. Last thing I need is Histe to decide my entrails will make a lovely bracelet.
“I don’t deny killing is a quick answer, but I find not every situation calls for such a solution.” I say back as I lock eyes with the brindle mare. “Though I don’t deny the thrill that comes with bleeding out an enemy, I just like to have a reason. Much to my dismay, I can’t quite shut up my conscious.” And in recent times, my conscious happens to be Nightingale. He has good intentions, but often his intentions are a display of weakness, withmy crowd is something I can’t afford, since weakness means death. My eyes drift back to the her chosen accessory and I feel a hint of a smile perk at the edge of my lips. “Interesting choice in accessory, though I’m sure the poor sod it once belonged to doesn’t need it anymore.” I highly doubt this mare will find any humor in my statement, all the madmen seem to lack such a thing.
I just keep my eyes locked on the mare, questions swirling about in my head. One thing above else drives me crazy with intrigue, yet I know it may be foolish to ask. Any word can cause this mare to snap and make her decide I’ll be a suitable snack. Which honestly, I think I could be quite deplorable. I’m made up of mostly muscle rather than fat, which I believe is what predators like in their kills.
As curious as I am, I smash it down because I don’t want to open up any opportunities for the psychobitch to sink her teeth into me. I have had it happen once and I’d rather keep my blood in my body thank you very much. Kestrel begins humming in my head and then proceeds to giggle like a filly trying to get the attention of a spindly pubescent colt. ”Why don’t you introduce yourself? Or maybe you know… Get some fun out of her.” I snort and roll my eyes. “Kestrel, now is the time to be quiet.” I say under my breath. “Weren’t of any help before and you aren’t any more helpful now.” I grit my teeth and for a moment I forget about the fact that there is a savage bloodthirsty psychopath in front of me that would thoroughly enjoy sucking the marrow from my bones.
“Just of curiosity, why did you come over here?” My tone is curious and holds the slightest bit of suspicion, but isn’t hostile. “You don’t strike me as the type to simply come over for idle chitchat. More like, stalk in the night and devour slowly sort of mare."
@[Histe]
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Image Credit
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