the Rift


[PRIVATE] man on fire

Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow
#1


The spring rain beats a drumbeat on the stallion's broad back, a thunderous rhythm upon tight black flesh and rippling muscle. He moves through the Grove, the sex-soaked place that Birdsong drives him to like a moth to a flame. His stride is a fractious, high-stepping trot, his flesh lathered with sweat as his head swings side to side upon the thick arch of his neck. It is the season, when the Gods' gift for a winter survived is fertile, needy women; although he isn't actively hunting for mare, he is alert for the possibility. The Isopia-borne numbness has somewhat lifted, and his spirits have risen in tandem with the cold of Frostfall.

For the first time in almost a year, the leviathan's face is naked. After much hacking and hauling, he finally managed to peel Gashad's skull off himself, and the thump of raindrops on his face is a beautiful, unfamiliar sensation. He has decided to keep the skull for battle purposes only, a menacing war-mask that also serves as an unconventional piece of armour. Without it stuck to his head, he feels lighter than he has in months, and the rain helps clean the accumulated sweat, blood and dirt from his refined features.

Both dragons are with him, unusually. Their bellies are full of deer, and their incessant bickering has ceased as they both soar lazily alongside him. Vérzés idly sprays his ice breath towards the rain, morbidly curious about whether he can freeze it; he does, and the frozen raindrops fall like daggers until they shatter on the ground. Vadir's own jaws are still devoid of any sort of element, but her nostrils have been billowing smoke recently, leading Volterra to be optimistic that she may soon find her fire.

The trio halt by the edge of the pool. Volterra lowers his mammoth head and begins to drink of its cool, rain-spattered waters, whilst his dragons dive beneath the surface and rise with wriggling fish clasped between their jaws. Neither of them are hungry, but the hunting instinct is too strong for them to resist, and they hone their reflexes by chasing the lithe silver bodies of their prey beneath the water. The stallion watches, one hindleg cocked, his nostrils flared and ever-searching for potential conquests. He may not be making a grand effort to hunt for his fix of women, but if they are to happen across his path...what's a man to do?

V O L T E R R A

YOU'VE GOT THE WORLD ON ITS KNEES
YOU'RE TAKING ALL THAT YOU PLEASE
image credits


@Aithniel Hope it's okay I went ahead and made it <33

[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far  ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]




Aithniel the Inquisitor Posts: 169
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 4.0
Mare :: Tribrid :: 15.0hh :: 4 Years HP: 75 | Buff: NOVICE
Zerachiel :: Royal Griffin :: Molten Dagger tamme
#2
Aithniel


The season's change was obviously, felt and seen clearly. A hum vibrated in her blood, urging her to move, act, and explode from the sleepy hibernation of thick fur coats and bitter cold. Her short, shed coat held a virgin purity quite unfitting for her sinful soul, but she took pride in the tone, believing it brought her closer to her father. Every shimmering, golden hue of her hair and wings were her crowns, symbols of her superiority and purpose.

Though ironically, she was not arrogant in such a staunch definition of the term. Aithniel did not believe herself inherently better than others - just more divine. And was she wrong? Not necessarily.

Storm clouds swiftly blotted out the sun, yielding spring rains that pelted along her back in elegant spray. The rivulets snaked down her sides, and she perched her wings, protecting the little Zerachiel from the storm. Head held high, not the least bit perturbed by the weather, she moved north, aiming to explore. The last few battles she engaged in had not gone in her favor, though she had no one else to blame but herself. Dedication and time were required when she found simply moving from one place to another far more peaceful and serene.

Here, beneath the cleansing showers, she felt calm - her soul peaceful and heart open. Silver eyes peered from beneath dark lashes, blinking away the spring rains as she moved toward one of Helovia's most beautiful landscapes. Willow trees rustled, rain pattering on the surface of the water, and the serenity was only tarnished by the occasional splash. As she wound her way around a tree, she saw the source of the noise - two dragons playing and at the helm of their hunt stood a stall, dark stallion.

Aithniel blinked, molten gaze settling on his muscular form appreciatively. He was of plain coloring, though that did not make him any less striking. His white face was in stark contrast to his black coat, and two white socks brought her attention to his strong hooves. He was intriguing, and she was curious. Dare she even say she wanted him? She urged Zera off of her back, helping the fluffy pup onto a branch before boldly approaching, drinking from the lake without word or notice.



I'll go down burning in your embrace


Tabini with many thanks to the amazing Blu



@Volterra

But burn down our home
I won't leave alive


Please tag me in everything!

Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow
#3


Through the pounding rain and rumble of distant thunder, he smells mare.

If anything, the moisture in the air sharpens his senses and makes the woman's heady odour even more intoxicating to his simple, simple mind. His dragons, sensing the oh-so-familiar twitches inside his head, disappear beneath the gently lapping pond for longer than they ever have before. They're gone for so long that he can feel their lungs constricting as the air drains from them, and the brute's throat twitches on their behalf as they begin to fight for breath beneath the crushing weight of the water....

Then, in an eruption of red and gold, they emerge on the far side of the pool. They are now close enough that they can keep an eye on their bonded, but far enough away that he has some privacy away from their sharp, judgemental gazes.

They know him far too well.

His massive, skull-free head turns to eye the mare as she comes into his visual range. She is...well, there are no words to quite describe her. Small, but perfectly formed. There is something about her, something that radiates beauty and power, fire and sun and danger, something that draws him like a foolish moth to a burning flame. She nears, drinking from the lake as though oblivious to the heat of his gaze that rasps across each muscle, each curve, each delectable, delicious sinew of her. Come to think of it, he recognises her - had she been the one to drop a fireball on one of the Rift gods whilst he fought it with tooth and hoof?

A small grin twitches at the corner of his jowls. Ah, he really is playing with fire, then.

But what is Volterra if not bold? He takes a daring step forwards, closing the distance between them by a few inches. "I know you," comes the heavy, earth-shaking rumble of his voice, his head cocking ever so slightly to scrutinise her. He makes no effort to hide the lust in his eyes or the hungry tensing of his muscles - covering his emotions is not something the young stallion claims to be good at, so why bother trying it? "You helped in the fights against the Rift creatures." And she'd certainly made an entrance - he can almost feel the searing heat of her fireball scorching against his mortal flesh.

V O L T E R R A

YOU'VE GOT THE WORLD ON ITS KNEES
YOU'RE TAKING ALL THAT YOU PLEASE
image credits


@Aithniel

[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far  ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]




Aithniel the Inquisitor Posts: 169
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 4.0
Mare :: Tribrid :: 15.0hh :: 4 Years HP: 75 | Buff: NOVICE
Zerachiel :: Royal Griffin :: Molten Dagger tamme
#4
Aithniel

The dragons suddenly disappeared waiting and biding their time as she drank the cool water, molten silver eyes scanning the surface. Roughly when she lifted her neck, they erupted from the surface, spraying water across their scales and flying off. She watched curiously, having no opinions on dragons one way or the other. Where she had grown up, most dragons were considered evil or taboo, and she had subconsciously taken after her adoptive mother, Illynx, in regards to her bonded Zerachiel. The griffin was a bright light in her heart, representing the good (though there was little) of her childhood - of Illynx's griffin teaching her to fly.

Zera cooed in her mind, still not able to speak yet and not even trying. She couldn't blame him. There were so many words, and speaking was often ill advised.

Her attention flickered to the dark stallion moving closer, and her ear twitched before her gaze followed. His heavy steps rattled the ground where he moved, such a contrast to her light, cloven steps which barely crunched fallen leaves and snow. Rains still misted around them, soaking her coat until she was nearly a gray color instead of all white. Water had a funny way of revealing what was just beneath the surface, except on him, it made him even darker. Aithniel wondered why...

"You do?" she asked in return. Her voice wasn't overly feminine. It wasn't soft and sweet. But, it was quiet and clear. Aithniel raised a brow at his hungry gaze, settling comfortably in her current position and not at all yielding to the heady weight. "Ah, yes," she replied, smirking just a little. She recognized him now. The ground dweller. He had done considerable damage too. "I remember seeing you too. Who are you?" she asked plainly, no ulterior motive behind her question.

Not that his name mattered, really. She wanted him either way. In fact, she took a step into his space, bolding matching him even though she stood much shorter, lifting her horned head to meet his gaze.


I'll go down burning in your embrace


Tabini with many thanks to the amazing Blu


@Volterra

But burn down our home
I won't leave alive


Please tag me in everything!

Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow
#5


He towers over her, and yet she neither flinches nor backs away; she stands, strong, defiant. Beautiful. Need begins to knot in his stomach, a familiar and delightful sensation that he relishes like a starving man with his sights set on a warm meal. Since Isopia broke him, he has tried hard to smother his lust, to channel it into more useful methods like fighting and training - but a leopard cannot change his spots, and Volterra cannot change the innate primal hunger that roars like a furnace inside him.

Abstinence does not suit him. When he is a king, he will concern himself with doing the right thing. For now, he concerns himself only with doing what feels good. And the beast knows that this burning star of a woman would feel so, so good.

He shuts out the niggling little nub of Isopia-feels that try to override his natural instincts; he crushes it down, smothers it.

This flaming beauty remembers him, too - carnality purrs inside his chest at this notion, at the thought he is remarkable enough to stand out amongst the writhing throngs of other soldiers. "Volterra," is his response to her question. He is not the sort to hide his name, to shy from who he is; he is determined that, from now on, he will embrace the consequences of his actions, no matter what they may be. The young goliath has pondered whether it wasn't so much the existence of his other children that drove Isopia away from him, as the fact he'd had nothing to do with these unknown bastards. Perhaps it is the thought that he could be so irresponsible that turned her against him - and this, unlike his brazen lust, is something he can fix.

Is that pity he feels radiating from his dragons? It's the hope that kills.

But, in the here and now, his focus is fully on the hybrid in front of him, not the one that haunts his mind. The mare steps closer, and the stud's proud head lifts higher, scrutinising every delectable inch of her. "And who are you, tűz-hozója?" Fire-bringer. Apt, he thinks.

V O L T E R R A

YOU'VE GOT THE WORLD ON ITS KNEES
YOU'RE TAKING ALL THAT YOU PLEASE
image credits


@Aithniel

[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far  ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]




Aithniel the Inquisitor Posts: 169
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 4.0
Mare :: Tribrid :: 15.0hh :: 4 Years HP: 75 | Buff: NOVICE
Zerachiel :: Royal Griffin :: Molten Dagger tamme
#6
Aithniel


Perhaps she was naive to the consequences that she could face in this courtship, but quite honestly, she didn't care. Intellectually, she understood that she could be pregnant as a result of whatever tantalizing games she and this stallion could play, but her upbringing left her to believe that bearing children was as easy and simple as letting a group raise the child. While she would never abandon her future children (as she vowed to never cow in fear like the bitch of a mother who did not deserve that title), she was under the impression that they were not just her own to parent.

Surely they would be safe in the Dragon's Throat beneath a sky of watchful wings and a ground of supportive smiles. Aithniel believed in this with her whole heart and thus shoved any negative side effects to the farthest reaches of her mind where they could nag without her noticing. Back there, somewhere in a corner, was Rikyn's frowning face, but he could also go to hell.

Even the stallion's name was fitting to him, she thought as she quickly turned toward the present. He was as shocking as a volt of spark and as firm as the earth - terra firma. Would her name inspire any of the same feelings? Was it fitting? Powerful and violent as she felt in her soul? With a step closer, she challenged, taking a deep breath to say her own name with as much resounding strength as she could. "Aithniel," she said in return. An angel of fire. Absently she wondered what language and words he muttered, but to be quite frank, she was too singularly focused to care.

"So, are we doing this or what?" she challenged again, one side of her lips turning up into a smirk. The molten silver of her eyes churned as she stood fast, oblivious to past relationships and burning with desire. Perhaps if she had known his tumultuous path, she would have taken pause, but there was no reason for it now. There were no reasons here at all, really. All they knew of each other were their names and fighting ability, and that was enough.

With her lips curled back a little, she nipped as his shoulder, never having learned a courtship dance that did not mirror the battlefield. Perhaps she would be more successful here than she was in an actual spar.

I'll go down burning in your embrace


Tabini with many thanks to the amazing Blu


@Volterra

But burn down our home
I won't leave alive


Please tag me in everything!

Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow
#7


She gives her name, and he files it away in a corner of his mind. Aithniel. He can't shake the nagging feeling he's heard it somewhere before, but he forces that strange sensation away into the back of his mind as well. There are other things more important here, other itches to scratch before he finds time to muse over where he's heard her name before.

Are we doing this or not? A wicked smile stretches the goliath's blackened jaws. He likes a woman who knows what she wants, and beautiful heat spreads through every inch of his body. "Your wish is my command, Aithniel." Her nips lands on sweating, delighted flesh, and he shudders with pleasure at the sensation. He aims to return it, too, his teeth hoping to bruise the crook of her wing and body, to claim that piece of pale, angelic flesh for his own. The wings intrigue him; he has taken only one pegasus beneath him before (don't think about her, not now, not now) and he often wonders what would happen if she got cold feet halfway through and flew away with him still clinging to her back. Not a thought he wishes to dwell upon for too long.

His dragons sense that his chase, his hunt, is nearing its conclusion, and they slowly draw their consciousnesses away from his own. They know what is coming, and they know that it turns his mind into a sea of things that they do not want to be part of. Even their current distance is not enough, and with a final heaven-splitting joint scream, they beat their leathery wings and fly further and further away until they are shapeless dots on the horizon.

His mind is his again, and his alone. It is full of simple instincts and raw needs. It is full of her.

In a mass of heaving black flesh and shuddering, thunderous desire he takes her, transforming their bodies into one great mass of carnality and open, burning fire.
-fade-

V O L T E R R A

YOU'VE GOT THE WORLD ON ITS KNEES
YOU'RE TAKING ALL THAT YOU PLEASE
image credits


@Aithniel Up to you if you want to end it here or carry on for a bit <33

[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far  ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]





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