the Rift


[PRIVATE] Bedding With Foes

Déodat Posts: 174
Absent Abyss atk: 3.5 | def: 10 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17 hands :: 12 HP: 67.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Odette :: White German Shepherd :: None Minx
#1

All of the stenches were beginning to mix together. Déodat had been searching for familiar faces amongst the masses. So far he saw none. The Blood Prince had seen his herd flee their mountain home while in his monstrous form, so he knew they lingered down in the caverns somewhere. He had lurked about in the various rooms of the tunnels and he was only now beginning to realize just how large this pace was. But it was beginning to feel smaller and smaller with each passing day. Déodat was meant to walk amongst the layer of snow and towering peaks of mountains, not hide in a hole like a rat.

This place was making him feel like a bird in a cage and with each passing moment and all he wanted was to be truly alone. Déodat had been spending quite a bit of time contemplating things actually. Thinking about that bizarre egg he had found(and stashed away somewhere where only he could find), life, the Basin, and just morality in general. After everything the hrd that should’ve been the first to pull him down hadn’t even been present. The Bood Prince had shown unfaltering loyalty to both king and country but none of it had been repaid, which left him feeling a sweltering rage. At its core the Bain was weak. They were a race made to rule and they couldn’t even take care of their own members. How did they ever expect to rule?

Déodat walked deeper and deeper into the caverns around him, his eyes drifting about. Around him the cave walls began to change and he cocked his head slightly. Glistening on the walls were radiant stones. The Blood Prince wasn’t the type to particularly interest himself in such petty things, but it was a welcome difference of scenery. It reminded him of the reflective ice within the frozen arch. Thinking of his mountain home just made him want to leave this cage all the more. Just thinking about how trapped he was just made him feel all the more angry. The list of things to feel pissed about was gradually growing longer.

@[Confutatis]

"talk talk talk"


May angels protect you
[Image: QV8O7HU.gif]
Cut from the cloth, of a flag that
Bears the name of "Battle Born"
con by aihnna@dA




Confutatis the World Eater Posts: 179
Hidden Account atk: 5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Equine :: 16.2hh :: 9 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Mongrel :: Common Kitsune :: Dark Illusions wanda
#2
CONFUTATIS


I've been eaten from the inside out

It had been, and would not continue to be, an eon and a day since she had last spoke with the cardinal stallion in the Arch as darkness fall over Helovia; it had been five months since she had let her thoughts roam so freely as to return to the topic which she had once often rested on. Déodat; blood crimson and snow-touched, eyes of violence that rested midway between plum and evening blue, a swarthy steed crowned precariously with a spiraling horn of glass. Today was not markedly different from any other. There was no omen of reuniting and reconvening with a unicorn she had expelled from her twisted thoughts, but here she was, destined to come face-to-face with what she had obliterated.

As of late, her thoughts had been consumed of regiments and troops, army recruitment and hiring, through means either nefarious or more kindly. Again and again she mulled over the possibility of acting as hitman, to simply take what she wanted as she had self-taught; and yet she could not help remembering Morir, the thrice-tined unicorn she had gained as ally due to [originally tasteless] tact.
It would be a last resort.

Mongrel pillages her memories, swimming in half-surfaced imagery, digging out fragmentations and evacuating the needless. It is soothing to have him riffle through the old, occasionally pulling forth one that needs explanation; indeed, almost enjoyable. With his guidance, she was able to access what she had dropped in the endless canyons of her wicked mind, piece together the forgotten. So it is not surprising when she is drawn into the labyrinth of crystal; emerald, ruby, diamond, garnet, sapphire, all vivid colors, glistening and glittering and gleaming, a sanctum of colored jewels, a place reminiscent of an ice palace on the frozen northern steppe. It douses Mongrel in nicked and frayed views of a stallion, scarlet and ice. A stallion who indeed walks these very halls.

There is a shiver of movement ahead, wine and blood; she is drawn, moth to flame, her hooves chinking on the gems that so easily trip and destroy a misplaced leg. Audits twitch forth, and Lady Death gives her head the slightest of bobs, shaking her ashen mane over her neck. Beside her crawls Mongrel, lithe and graceful, slipping over precious stone easily.

Her breath hitches for a moment as she comes across the carmine sight, glittering sanguine surrounded by such colors, and the faintest of smiles bloom across her corrupt lips. Magic billows around her, charming veils of death and rot, and she stands at a distance from him, as not to strip skin from blood vessel; ears twitch and flicker forth, wordless, waiting for his notice.
Déodat.


calsidyrose
Join the Regime.

Déodat Posts: 174
Absent Abyss atk: 3.5 | def: 10 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17 hands :: 12 HP: 67.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Odette :: White German Shepherd :: None Minx
#3

The sound of another’s hooves bounced off the wall and broke the peaceful silence that had hung in the air. An exasperated sigh passed from Déodat’s lips as he heard the sound coming closer and closer. Perhaps if he simply ignored them they would go on about their way. Soon a familiar stench filled his nostrils, one that hadn’t inhaled since the abysmal darkness fell over Helovia all those months ago. Lingering in the crystal halls was a memory that he had no desire to revisit, one that he had buried away and refused to acknowledge. Now here that memory was standing before him. The lone wolf before him though was no longer alone. With her came a peculiar mutt with multiple tails. This dark creature brought up images of the small fox-like creature that trailed behind Lena. He had looked at the skull-faced mare, his acknowledgement was obvious and now he had to face the demoness.

“I thought these caverns kept the demons out,” The Blood Prince said, his tone full of contempt. All those months ago the darkness had blinded him, but he wouldn’t let himself so easily forget what this mare was again. He flicked his tail and turned to face the foul mare and kept his eyes locked on her. For a moment he considered simply going on about his way and forgetting he had even run into the mare. That would be a display of weakness and one of the last people he wished to see him be weak was Confutatis.

“State your purpose of being here she-devil, I have no interest in your company.” Déodat waved his head dismissively. If the mare was as intelligent as she had seemed then he hoped at the very least she would establish why she was present and at best he hoped she would move on her way. Their last encounter was a bitter memory. Natural desires had blinded him and this time all he could see before him was a ratty lone wolf with a twisted fox for a packmate.

[Sorry it’s short]

"talk talk talk"

May angels protect you
[Image: QV8O7HU.gif]
Cut from the cloth, of a flag that
Bears the name of "Battle Born"
con by aihnna@dA




Confutatis the World Eater Posts: 179
Hidden Account atk: 5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Equine :: 16.2hh :: 9 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Mongrel :: Common Kitsune :: Dark Illusions wanda
#4
CONFUTATIS


I've been eaten from the inside out

Her fox sees nothing in this sauve stallion, the color of fresh blood dripping from a wound; his contempt for their former meeting floods through the woven threads that knit and connect thought and emotion between the two. It is impossible to override such sensation- she finds her lips curling in disdain, memories of petty rejection springing to the forefront of her skull, as the bonded's mentalities meet and fuse together in a fiendish concoction; and their derision deepens at his arrogant tones, the usage of improper nouns for their union of equine and kitsune. "I am not a demon," she l i e s, her voice the rasp of a blade being drawn from sheathe. "If I were, I would attack now and query to your lack of proper respect later." Mongrel growls in cavalier agreement, sliding forth, smoke pouring over rocky ground, the click of his claws warning of impending action.

Ears tilt back dismissively at continuation of his empty threats- he could not defeat her, queen of death and decay, bringer of rot and ruination. It is magic the gods gifted her with, a spell divine and unique, one she had discovered to her never-ending joy. Now she did not have to lay her teeth down on skin and bone to bubble and burn and scar; all that was required was her ethereal presence.

"I ask you again, for the last time-" and her voice drips venom, her spit bubbles acidic- "would you refrain from such vulgar terms for friends who you were so..." Her amber eyes caresses the curve of loin and hip. "Eager to please upon our last meeting?" Confutatis plays idly with the thought of having him fuck her; no, he was not worthy of that honor, not with his racism and sickening arrogance. A commoner would not be allowed to mate with a QUEEN, after all... and Mongrel snickers, his teeth clicking together in a laugh, as he draws forth images of a battle-scarred hide and a dragon green.

The result is a mental slap that sent him flying for cover, cowering in the corners of her infuriated head. It is not his place...

"Terribly sorry for the inconveniences of a wolf's teeth clutched around your windpipe," she grates in a broken purr. "I forgot how annoying villains can be when you are an honor-bound cock." The magic flares at her hooves; spoilage and corrosion, gangrene and decomposition, and she wishes he would step closer, so he may taste real power, when she strips flesh from sinew and b o n e.


calsidyrose
eh, don't worry about post lengths! ^^ posts will be as long as they want to be
Join the Regime.

Déodat Posts: 174
Absent Abyss atk: 3.5 | def: 10 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17 hands :: 12 HP: 67.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Odette :: White German Shepherd :: None Minx
#5

Words pour from Confutatis’s mouth, she speaks of respect which makes the Blood Prince laugh. His laughter rings off the cave walls, condescending and cold. It drowns out the sound that comes from the mare’s familiar. As his face settles back into a glower he snorts. “A bold statement Confutatis,” Déodat states her name as if it is a foul taste upon his tongue, “you’ve given me no reason to respect you. Your race condemns you to be nothing more than a carrier of defective blood, destined to be nothing more than a lowly slave." The mare had said her piece and now he wishes for nothing more to write her off and move on. There are far better things he could be doing with his time. Yet as much as he wishes for her to leave, he could always saunter off. Nothing is stopping him from leaving this stone covered cavern. Surely the demoness wouldn’t be bold as to follow him?

On she goes again, demanding to cease his ‘vulgar’ terms, and she even goes as far as mentioning their first meeting. Déodat’s lips twitch slightly into a smirk as he drifts back to that night. A foolish coice on his part, but in the end she had been the one rejected. They were two individuals destined to be nothing more than foes. His hatred of course runs deeper than simply the lack of a horn upon her skull face, oh yes, the hatred for so easily luring him in despite her inferiority. “Don’t mistake that time for anything special my darling, and I surely wouldn’t be so bold as to call me friend. You were a harlot for a brief moment of pleasure, and once the darkness came you became nothing to me.” Bold words are pouring off his tongue, and his doesn’t underestimate the might of this wild temptress.

Something conspires between the bonded pair, he notes the peculiar clattering of the fox’s teeth, but he pays it not much mind. Being so close to a mind as demented as hers Déodat pitied the creature. Damned from the very start of its existence to be nothing more than a scavenging worm like it’s mistress. For a brief moment the Blood Prince dares to compare the mutt to the whimsical creature that always came in toe with Lena. Daring to think of his friend simply reminds him all the more to leave behind this nuisance and find other corners to brood. But the game with his wily harlot isn’t quite over yet. Déodat wishes to have the last word in this moment filled with tension.

“Why not be on your way? I’ve made it clear I don’t desire your company and yet you still linger.” Déodat dares to step closer, oblivious to the wicked magic radiating off of the she-devil. As he draws nearer he can feel the magic against his flesh and a hiss of agony escapes from his lips as he takes several steps back. The Blood Prince looks down at his legs and can see portions of flesh rotten and decaying, and small patches upon his chest and neck match the foul marks upon his legs. “So, you have new tricks.” His voice is strained from the pain. “Your magic is as vile as your malevolent soul.” There is no describing the pain that he is feeling, and he tries to withstand it, but after several moments he finally winces and releases a hiss, expressing the agony of his flesh.

[Apologies if I got the results of her magic wrong. Let me know and I’ll edit the post.]

"talk talk talk"

May angels protect you
[Image: QV8O7HU.gif]
Cut from the cloth, of a flag that
Bears the name of "Battle Born"
con by aihnna@dA




Confutatis the World Eater Posts: 179
Hidden Account atk: 5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Equine :: 16.2hh :: 9 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Mongrel :: Common Kitsune :: Dark Illusions wanda
#6

CONFUTATIS


I've been eaten from the inside out

She is disdain wrapped up in onyx coat; menacing in her obsolete darkness, nostrils cusped wide to drink in the hard scent of sweat and testosterone, the press of bodies hot and heady. Audits twitch and clasp forward, tipping forth to catch sound of disrespecting snorts and contemptuous face. Daring of him, is it not, to be so loose-heartedly a r r o g a n t around a sovereign of death and decoy? She lets slip tendrils of magic from her bodice, seething laces of black magic to curl and caress the crystalline floor, watching for command from Confutatis to spring at the stallion whose coat so unfortunately resembles BLOOD. Soon that crimson will peel back from sinew, suddenly frail muscle decomposing on bones- he will cry out, beg for mercy, but she gives no such thing to corrupt kings. "Oh, gods, I am so fucking sorry." And she smiles- WICKED- a decomposing, disintegrating thing of foul acid lips and yellow teeth.

Veins pulsate beneath her skin of onyx and obsidian, light sheen of sweat breaking out over midnight coat; she is vicious and malignant, vile temptress, scarred and aged yet still brutally beautiful. Yes, harlot as he so aptly put it (she thinks to herself); or rather succubus, devil wrapped in mortal flesh who lays by men during their nightly sleeps. He gave in so easily, she can do it again. Slay him, strip him of that crimson cloak (she could wear as a queen does cape), shatter that crystal horns beneath her hooves, crush him.
Mongrel's agreement surges through their bond, painted images of torturous cruelty.
Ecstatic in their wild.

"I will be a queen, Déodat," she exhales, expression unreadable, blank-faced, slate features. "Regardless if I have your sexual approval or not, little boy."
He will die by the end of tonight.

Ears slant back in his declarations of unwanted companionship. She will not leave so easily; she is not a little girl who leaves at command, she is a war goddess, monster of decay, crowned with her atrocious acts and armed with her mouth full of poison and black magic. "Attack me, Déodat." she bequeaths him, ears pinning to tangled mane and spine. Her armor materializes- strips of tattered black leather, white bones glinting bright in the dark- over hide grayed with healed wound. "Stop your marish complaints, which are tiresome on the ear; ATTACK ME, halt in your tirade." Supple steel muscles ease and relax, shifting beneath a rippling coat of obsidian, easy on her feet, devil-eyed and acid-mouthed. She doubts his bravery- he would not charge into her desecrating arms, but she would wrap them around his throat if he refused, choke him, THROTTLE him, pull him to the ground beneath her wicked hooves.

She ignores his comments on magic and sorcery nefarious and malignant, and she awaits the oncoming of blood and bruises.

"Fight me, you coward."


calsidyrose
Join the Regime.


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