M - daydream milk and genocide.

Eris Eternity · 05-07-2010, 09:49 AM

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love you ;; 936 SORRY

The chesnut-colored wolf before her was etched with scars, jagged ones running across his face and cut into his limbs. They were not intentional—they had been gouged into his flesh by the struggling motions of his prey. No such things existed on Eris; the spiral on her shoulder that had been cut into and steadily deepened into a permanent wound where no fur would grow was completely intentional, ritualistic, even. She could still smell the burning sandalwood incense from those rituals and feel the hot knife piercing through her skin.

She had almost crawled to them, her hand itching to reach out and touch the pale wolf's skin again, itching to feel the tingle of that spiced blood on her own flesh again. But she could not, not without this man's permission. Older and more powerful forces than her were at work here in this man—though only two years separated them, it might as well have been two million years for the far more refined and ancient darkness lurking in the chocolate-furred wolf. Ometeotl could not have this one—even if the god called for him, Eris would have perished trying to capture this power.

He turned his attention back to the girl and the trance was broken, and the throbbing returned to Eris's body, overtaking her hearing and swelling over all her other senses. She watched as the blood came in a swell now as the man's teeth connected with the other canine's flesh, drawing back and leaving a torrent of red behind, flowing from the bleeding hole etched into the white wolf's flesh. The sable-canine's breath caught in her throat and she could scarcely breathe anymore; her chartreuse gaze was locked on the pale canine's face and throat, following the sanguine fluid's path through the dirt.

The sable-furred canine had moved even closer, shifting ever nearer to the bubbling source of the pale canine's ebbing life, though there was some vague and instinctual part of her that was afraid of the multi-hued man, some part of her that sensed what she was toying with. Her clawed fingers made for that sanguine hole, extending forth into the tattered flesh. The girl's life had not yet completely ebbed; it still remained, slowly choking and strangly as it tried to breathe through the jagged hole the chocolate-colored demon had ripped in her throat.

He drew back as her life drained away, and the sable-furred woman climbed over her body rather unceremoniously, drawing her muzzle to the fleshy mess torn into the pallid woman's flesh in what could have been a kiss, just touching the end of her muzzle to it. She drew it back red, and swiped the fluid off of her face with her pink tongue. The shadowy canine drew her sharp claws to the other woman's belly, digging them into the soft flesh. The white wolf's life finally drained completely away, and the spirit disappeared with it, but Eris was not worried. The power was still here, the source of that power buried beneath layers of muscle and flesh here.

The shadow-colored hands delved into the woman's stomach, pulling and tearing and scratching. It was hard work—this was usually done with a stone dagger, but the method did not matter. The power was there beneath the layers of protection the body had placed over it regardless, and the method of extraction did not matter. Eris had torn her own bloodied hole through the pale wolf's flesh, staining the white fur crimson as she sifted through the woman's entrails, knuckles brushing up against bone and organ until they grasped ahold of her prize, unmistakably firm and still warm in her hands.

There were no words from the shade-colored wolf, of course—the Atotoztli were not one to chant or speak in tongues or repeat ridiculous mantras. There was only the sound of their breathing, Eris's shallow and coming to her quickly, and the silent demon's, deep and even and steady. The coal-colored hybrid laid the white wolf's liver on her chest, inches over the gaping hole now torn in her stomach. Her hands were coated with red and flecked with pink bits of organ and flesh, but she had her prize, and it oozed red over the wolf's chest. Almost lovingly, the coal colored canine caressed it, squeezing gently to draw blood straight from the source of the brownish-colored organ. This she wiped over her eyes, slowly and one at a time. Almost immediately they began to tingle and burn, and now a slow smile crept onto the sable wolf's muzzle.

For the first time in a while, the chartreuse gaze broke with the bloodied corpse of Noir, and looked to the demon. He had become an Optime in the time that she had been paying total attention to the corpse, perhaps preferring it now that the killing was done, and he was even larger now. The act of sacrifice completed, it was time to focus on him. Though she made no indication, he moved closer to her, bearing down on her with his sky-colored eyes, towering over her and outweighing her by no small amount. A single hand extended forward, dyed crimson red for the moment, and a chestnut-colored hand rose to meet it in the middle. The bloodied one slid slowly over the other, drawing her fingers over each of his, her chartreuse eyes never breaking with his, though now they were beginning to droop, slowly drawing closed as they made more and more contact, the blood over her eyes and the hand where they touched both burning like fire now.

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