the Rift


[OPEN] Blood Sugar Sex Magik

Kianzo Posts: 95
World's Edge Sleuth
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.3 hh :: 2
Keusi :: Striped Hyena :: Terrorize smitty
#1
Kianzo
Stars hide your fires. Let not light see my black and deep desires.
Hunting. It was all Keusi thought about, lately. Despite her instincts as a scavenger, her bond with Keusi (and thus his demons) had unleashed a darker and more vicious side in the hyena. She preferred fresh meat now—preferably still struggling when she ripped into its flesh.

And, though Kianzo occasionally felt a frisson of annoyance at Si’s incessant probing of their bond for more hunting time, the pubertal colt was restless. There was some new drive, a new heat in him; like the pressure of his chest before his ashen hyenas erupted out his dark gold skin… But this was a different pressure. It pulsed elsewhere—his thoughts, his barrel.

He shook his head roughly, sending ivory and ebony strands tangling around his thickening crest. A dark hoof struck out at the boggy earth—just as a porcine squeal rent the air and Keusi’s powerful haunches launched her after a wild boar. Boars were her favorite—she loved how the screamed.

The ashen, young stallion watched his companion disappear in to the swamp, black-rimmed ears perked forward to hear the fading splashes, excited yips, and fearful squeals as prey and predator disappeared into the murk.

But Kianzo’s own hunger would not be sated by that kind of hunt. So, instead, he stared at his reflection in the unsettled inky waters. A few moments passed before a forelimb struck out again, sending the dark liquid flying in a spray that darkened the golden skin of his throat, neck, and gleaming chest. Una tombwa na punda!” his low voice sounded in sudden, irritated exclamation at himself. The words were not taught to him by his father, but by Hasovir—the dark stallion who had disappeared after teaching he and Kesui how to hunt.

Agitated, he waited for the distant porcine screams to stop.


Una tombwa na punda! = You are being fucked by a donkey!
image

@Oizys hallo dearie :D

Please tag Kianzo in all replies.

Oizys Posts: 134
Aurora Basin Soldier atk: 7.0 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Hybrid :: 17hh :: 2 HP: 73.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Ker :: Philippine Eagle :: Curse Snow
#2


The distant squeals are music to the gargoyle's ears. It's been too long since she heard such delightful noises - probably the last time she tried to steal blood from another creature, only to find them rather reluctant to give it up. On her withers Ker unleashes a loud screech of happiness, hopping from clawed foot to foot and holding her wings at half-mast as she stares into the distance. "Sounds tasty," she remarks, accentuating her point with a clack of her massive beak.

Oizys lifts her tri-horned head with a sardonic snort. Sounds not very dead, she replies, squinting as though doing so will enable her to see the unfortunate prey being pursued through the forest. By the sounds of it, it's a pig of some sort, which means she has no interest in taking its blood. Why on God's green earth would she want to transform into some fat, sweaty, squealing lump of pork? No, Oizys's tastes are far more discerning - she prefers predators, the bigger the better. The golden jewel in her collection of sanguine samples is the great grizzly bear she'd drained that day in the forest, and she uses that particular vial very wisely. It's precious, as she can't say she's looking forward to collecting any more.

Ker's excited hopping intensifies to the point that her talons create pinpricks in the gargoyle's hard grey skin, and the young mare pins her ears with a hiss. Go and help, then. Stop that godforsaken squealing before I do. The noise, whilst initially enjoyable, is beginning to get grating, and with a screech of pleasure her raptor takes to the wing. It leaves Oizys free to wander through the Marsh, lost in thoughts of Kaos and her dead mother....is being here just tempting fate, inviting the bone monster to complete its dam-and-daughter combo? She should probably leave....and she's about to, when the smell of stallion hits her muzzle.

Oh, Oizys has been...curious for quite a while now. She's experienced one heat, during the Birdsong just gone - heavens, she wouldn't wish that intense fervour of lust upon her worst enemy. For a creature with such an iron self-control as Oizys, feeling her own body rebel against her had been most perturbing. She'd thankfully managed to secrete herself away without giving anything precious away, but she's rather dreading a recurrence of it. Even now, fully not-in-heat, there's a queer burning between her thighs that she can't quite comprehend, like an itch that demands scratching. Deeming somebody worthy of scratching it, however, is quite a different story. There's a familiarity about this particular stallion-odour, though, and curiosity gets the better of her as she traipses through the Marsh at a heavy-footed trot.

Ah, there he is. "Hmmmm." The word is an approving purr as the mare gazes upon the now-adult form of Kianzo. Goodness, age has been kind to him. He's bulked out quite magnificently, dwarfing even her, and the moisture he's flicked upon his skin only helps emphasise every delicious masculine line of him. Aware that she's unabashedly staring, Oizys clamps her mouth together and moves closer. "If it isn't my favourite bear hunting buddy. Haven't you grown?" Her cold grey eyes are somewhat hotter than usual as she dances them across his body, feeling her mouth growing dry and growing rather concerned by such a phenomenon. She doesn't fancy drinking Marsh water (Kaos piss, anybody?) so instead slaps her lips together and resumes her hopefully subtle appraisal of him.

OIZYS
NO WEALTH, NO LAND, NO SILVER, NO GOLD
NOTHING SATISFIES ME BUT YOUR SOUL



squeals excitedly @Kianzo

[ the gargoyle queen ]
OIZYS IS ALWAYS RATED M FOR STRONG LANGAUGE IN HER POSTS




Kianzo Posts: 95
World's Edge Sleuth
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.3 hh :: 2
Keusi :: Striped Hyena :: Terrorize smitty
#3
Kianzo
Stars hide your fires. Let not light see my black and deep desires.
Black-rimmed ears flicked backwards as the ashen heart’s head quickly rose in response to the hum purr the slides through the marshy air. His chest thickly arched in response to the action—though his nostrils flared as a familiar scent hit them. Then, slowly, his white-striped neck curved to the side, gilded skin slipping over newly found muscles as intensely blue eyes sought the source of the sound.

Though vanity is not exactly one of the dark prince’s flaws, he certainly was one to compare himself to others (strengths, weaknesses, powers). And, in his many comparisons, he had not found himself lacking in physicality against other colts. But he also hadn’t found himself as the recipient of such open, unabashed staring—his own gaze not yet leaving the pale blue ice of the gargoyle roving eyes.

Bright blues narrow slightly, almost questioning, as his chiseled head tilted slightly from its height—much grown from their last meeting. And, he does not fail to note, higher than the impressively tall grey filly mare.

Only when she speaks does his gaze leave the cold heat of her gaze, instead tracing the vivid scars that leap out from the darkness of her skin. Though the colt knew it generally was considered impolite to stare at such things; however, the way his gaze traced those jagged lines was not out of the taboo morbid curiosity; but, instead, out of earnest (and slightly carnal) interest—besides, if she had such an easy with with his body, then he was allowed such a small stare, was he not?

That’s not to say he was left unchanged by her arrival; oh no, the newfound muscles (grown taut beneath his skin by burgeoning testosterone) swelled slightly, as if excited to be admired. And then, as he turned, perhaps there was too much gliding of gilded skin over sinew… but the young stallion’s head remained high, gaze now slipping over the bold grey hide that bulged over the woman’s strength.

Again, the dark prince was struck at how opposite this mare was from the others in his life. She was bold, stocky; thick and strong; there were no sweeping lashes or sidelong looks—no, there was an appreciative and unapologetic purr. Even her face—it is filled with strong features and only underlined by a whispered touch of effeminate beauty.

And it fascinated him in a way that he has not been fascinated before.

His gaze both began and ended its own, unabashed and entirely unsubtle inspection on her tri-horned face. A slow, small, lopsided grin crosses his pale muzzle and dark lips, greeting with questioning thoughts from Keusi— ‘dubu,’ he thinks back to his hunting companion—still unfruitful as told by the continued and distancing porcine screams.

His dark brows raised slightly, shifting the black lines around his eyes and on his face as his deep voice rumbles in response to her, ’Your favorite’?” he echoes her, “You have more than one?” And, though the substance of his words is playful, his burning eyes and deep voice are anything but.

He pauses, still studying her face, before continuing, “I didn’t get your name, last time?”


dubu = bear
image

@Oizys I got so descriptive in this, idk why? have 100000 extra words. sry :c I hate it when that happens

Please tag Kianzo in all replies.

Oizys Posts: 134
Aurora Basin Soldier atk: 7.0 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Hybrid :: 17hh :: 2 HP: 73.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Ker :: Philippine Eagle :: Curse Snow
#4


She cannot fail to notice his gaze travelling up to the scars across her right eye. As she's had these scars since minutes after she was born, she is used to them being examined by the Helovian populace, and is also used to the look of horror that normally follows. Age has dulled them slightly, but they're still hideously twisted and blatant against the black skin of her face, zig-zagging across her right eye like fault lines. The staring had been worse during her childhood, when people had looked truly disgusted at such a young foal with such a dreadful injury, and had glared at Nyx as though holding her personally accountable for the maiming to her daughter. Oizys is certainly used to her wounds gaining scrutiny, and she stands tall and proud as Kianzo examines her. If he recoils at the sight of them, if he thinks that they detract from what little beauty she possesses, then she will want nothing to do with him - a dreadful shame, given his delicious appearance.

The reason for that is simple. Scars, to Oizys, are beauty. They're a sign that somebody has lived through immense pain and come out the other side fighting; they're a sign that somebody has suffered hardship and survived. With her bulky, functional build and monochrome colouration, Oizys is certainly not pretty in the traditional sense, but there's a raw, feral appeal to her for those with a more discerning eye, those that see beauty as an ability to protect oneself and thrive. The cold grey eye within the scars stares defiantly at the stallion, daring him to comment, daring his handsome face to betray his emotions.

He passes the test with flying colours; he does not recoil, or make his excuses to leave. A smile spreads slowly across the mare's lips as relief, unbidden, fills her; she likes this man, and she's quite a believer in first impressions. It would have been terribly disappointing to find out that she was wrong about this man, that he wasn't as different from the others as she'd thought when he helped her kill a bear. Each movement of his seems almost predatory in a way that appeals to the deepest, most primal itch in the gargoyle's body, and the golden fur sweeping across those magnificent muscles would be enough to set a weaker woman's legs quivering. Thankfully Oizys is not so foolish as to make an idiot of herself over a stallion, no matter how stunning, but the darkening of her frigid gaze and the light sheen of sweat across her skin are giveaways that she cannot hide.

A chuckle is given to his words - words spoken in that delightful deep voice, the voice that vibrates into the depths of her bones and elsewhere. "Is that jealousy, hm? Don't worry, handsome, nobody else hunts bears like you do." She winks, shutting her scarred right lid across its unharmed eye to complete the puzzle of faded pink lines, although it's only momentary before the bright pale blue orb is visible again. A request for her name is quickly granted. "My name is Oizys. Apparently I am named for a Goddess of misery, distress and anxiety, which goes some way to explaining my charming personality." The words are sarcastic, dripped from her lips like treacle. "And yours?"

There's a twitch in the back of her mind that makes her want to close the distance between them and feel whether the man is as hard to the touch as he looks; she manages to resist, quite perturbed by this newfound desire of hers.

OIZYS
NO WEALTH, NO LAND, NO SILVER, NO GOLD
NOTHING SATISFIES ME BUT YOUR SOUL



Don't apologise, I love each and every word 8D also fixed my table because the text was hard to read over her tail @Kianzo

[ the gargoyle queen ]
OIZYS IS ALWAYS RATED M FOR STRONG LANGAUGE IN HER POSTS





Forum Jump:


RPGfix Equi-venture