08-24-2009, 01:42 PM
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Samael enjoyed corruption. His blood was black, branded with hellfire and chaos from both his mother and his father. But darkness was beautiful and he reveled in decay and destruction, adoring the site of exposed bone and broken, bruised flesh. This girl could be just the same. He could see it in her eyes, longing for things not unlike what Samael himself dreamt of every time he closed his eyes. It was a shame he himself had not sired her, but rather his lowly, despicable brother Vitium. He took absolutely no notice of even the children he himself had seeded, but this girl was something different. Wolf’s blood ran strong in her veins—perhaps even stronger than the coyote’s—yet she looked and acted like nothing more than canis latrans.
She was just as royal and arrogant as him, and he was severely amused by this notion. Lykoi was a name to hold proudly—even more so than his foolish, useless father Astaroth and his supposed devilish origins. Halo moved closer, eyes lingering on his scars, held fast as though truly fascinated by them. She asked a question he hadn’t been expecting, yet accepted all the same. “Go ahead,” he replied, one clawed hand brushing across his cheek and the scars engraved into the flesh there. He’d pricked his skin with his nails before and the scent briefly touched his nose, lightly entrancing him. He licked the tip of his claw before turning his attention back to the girl, allowing her free access to his face and arms.
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Samael enjoyed corruption. His blood was black, branded with hellfire and chaos from both his mother and his father. But darkness was beautiful and he reveled in decay and destruction, adoring the site of exposed bone and broken, bruised flesh. This girl could be just the same. He could see it in her eyes, longing for things not unlike what Samael himself dreamt of every time he closed his eyes. It was a shame he himself had not sired her, but rather his lowly, despicable brother Vitium. He took absolutely no notice of even the children he himself had seeded, but this girl was something different. Wolf’s blood ran strong in her veins—perhaps even stronger than the coyote’s—yet she looked and acted like nothing more than canis latrans.
She was just as royal and arrogant as him, and he was severely amused by this notion. Lykoi was a name to hold proudly—even more so than his foolish, useless father Astaroth and his supposed devilish origins. Halo moved closer, eyes lingering on his scars, held fast as though truly fascinated by them. She asked a question he hadn’t been expecting, yet accepted all the same. “Go ahead,” he replied, one clawed hand brushing across his cheek and the scars engraved into the flesh there. He’d pricked his skin with his nails before and the scent briefly touched his nose, lightly entrancing him. He licked the tip of his claw before turning his attention back to the girl, allowing her free access to his face and arms.