the Rift


[OPEN] Magic in death and beauty in blood

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
#8
déodat,
A cool gust of wind steals in over the stale conversation and both creatures are silent as to hear the storm raging outside their icy prison quite perfectly. It howls in the night like a lone wolf and makes Déodat think of a battered war cry. Perhaps they have engaged this sense of malignancy from their haggard personalities alone, but something about it haunts the beast as he stares callously at the wolfish creature before him. Though she is not gifted with the symbol of everlasting life as he had been so blessed to adorn, but she is hardened just the same. Had she not been tainted, cursed with the ill-will of the Gods, perhaps he would have sought her companionship back to the Basin immediately, but of course her offer only falls on deaf ears. It means nothing more to him than a meaningless taunt from a forsaken adversary. She will lose in the end, but at the very least the beast will enjoy watching her fall.

Her golden eye peers hopelessly out from beneath its heavy hood and it makes Déodat curious to know why the other, so ghostly and lifeless, has come to be of no use. He debates whether or not to pester her about it, but then decides to abandon the thought altogether instead to ponder her cryptic use of metaphor. She is an intellectual creature and Déodat admires that about her only in the name of wasting precious time. Her suggestiveness is also something that attracts him on a more primal level, one that is hard to ignore in spite of their differences. His hips pull inward at her attempt to lure him from his steely prison within himself and though he is obviously aroused by her sentiment, he moves no closer to indulge her sexual ostentatiousness.

And every juggler his Queen…” His smile is animalistic at best, showy and charismatic despite the well of tension that has formed between them. They are perhaps lost to one another only because they ought to be, so similar and roguish in their mannerisms and speech alone. However, as indigo eyes roam the sharp curves of her frame, they cannot help but to become transfixed. He is allured and inevitably so. She is raked with puckered skin from war, from the road, from her way of life and it is all made more appealing by the brutish smile she wears upon those dried lips. When she speaks his name, it rolls off her brittle tongue like a siren song and he is entranced, better yet mesmerized to watch it overcome the wall of her teeth. He imagines what it would feel like to overcome her as well and the grin that curls his shameless lips does little to hide the wealth of desire growing rampant in his loins.

Confutatis you say? A name most becoming of your obvious charms.” Still, the beast remains at a distance, though his body pleads for proximity, for release. Whatever had drawn him to this beastly excuse of feminine purpose had certainly become lost to him, but still he was wont, desiring more- more than this harlot was willing to give. Again her words pushed between her lips, lips that he thought of touching, of ravaging with the ferocity of a stallion too long deprived. Though he had grown rigid with the pressure of her nature and her draw, still he evaded the pull to approach, that is until the sin that they’d been avoiding finally made it into the open air.

I would love nothing more than to invite you to my quarter’s sweet Confutatis. You would find them more than appropriate for our zealous affairs… in fact, devastatingly so.” The evil that lurked behind the depth of a lavender gaze was unseen upon their filmy surface, now clouded with want for seduction, for death. For surely that’s what would become of this mysterious mare upon entering the Basin and what celebration it would be to watch her fall to her knees before him, beg him for the dear life she now possessed with selfish abandon. Oh he would make her his Queen all right and they would both enjoy the fall from heaven.

As she drew nearer, most obviously testing his boundaries, he let her come… In his arms she would find the pleasure she sought and the pain he most certainly desired.
image credits

OOC| [Insert mature label here.] xD
[Image: QV8O7HU.gif]
Cut from the cloth, of a flag that
Bears the name of "Battle Born"
con by aihnna@dA





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RE: Magic in death and beauty in blood - by Déodat - 06-20-2013, 03:44 PM

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