[M] she's standing on an overpass

Samael Lykoi · 02-10-2011, 09:41 PM

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WARNING This thread contains: graphic sexual content or extremely offensive material starting with the 16th post. Reader discretion is advised.

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He couldn’t help the possessions as they happened. Demons lived and breathed through him. He was but one in a thousand sharing a single corpse, animating it with fluid, decaying motions. His world was like a film being played in slow motion, with darkness between each picture as life passed him by. He couldn’t account for the gaps, and he didn’t care to. The Angel had stolen his memories, and the Angel had made him this way. He was beautiful in every way. Madness was subjective.

Samael was not mad, but he was holy—chosen and blessed by heaven and hell alike. Injuries happened, and he reveled in the feeling of pain illuminating his nerves with fire. It helped him to remember that he was alive, for everything else was illusory. He watched himself move from a distance as though he trudged through mire. It was the only time the veil lifted and his eyes opened, though the cogs were rusted and the gears were slow to turn.

Skeletal, he’d stayed in the cave unmoving for five days now. Dawn invoked motion and he rose, padding out into the rosy light. There was a single word on his tongue, and a single phrase repeating in his mind—screaming, drowning out all else, though it hardly lifted above a harsh, menacing whisper. He couldn’t think while the mantra repeated. Fear rose, metallic on his tongue and acidic as bile. The waves echoed the sound, crashing against the rocks and spraying him with brackish mist.

It was cold, and the ground beneath his feet was slick with ice, daring him to step wrong so it could send him tumbling into the sea, never to be seen again. The snow was everywhere, and he hated it. Crimson eyes glared out across the white—the wind biting into his pelt and tousling his coat as he stood on four limbs just inches from the water’s edge, contemplating his next move.

He didn’t like it one bit.

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Kaena Lykoi · 03-02-2011, 06:35 AM

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Character Form: Optime derp

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Word Count :: 333 Big Grin

There was a scent on the wind, one the silver-shaded woman knew better than any other. She would have never forgotten that smell, if even ten long years had passed between now and the last time she had smelled it. The scarred Centurion knew, maybe better than anyone else she had met, what exactly ten years felt like -- and then some, as she considered that she would be twelve this year. This age rattled in her bones, and she was reminded of it daily by her aching joints and stiffened limbs. There was little she could do for herself other than attempt to avoid the cold and smoke in the mornings. These were the things that kept her moving, and of course, the old woman subscribed to the belief that continued movement would keep her moving. To stop trying to roam and keep abreast of the borders would mean she would no longer be fulfilling duty, and this was a thing she would not tolerate.

Even so, that scent was enough to lure her away from the border and toward its source. She followed the chilled wind after it, moving quickly. Kaena had grown accustomed to Samael's departures, and though it hurt each time he went away, the hybrid woman had no doubt he would return to her, as he always did. This time it was no different, and as the scarred woman made her way toward the golden-black streaked hybrid, she noted the winter darkness lurking in his coat, having shed the summery fire-gold. He was no less striking for it, and the hybrid called to him softly, some mangled and decidedly un-puppyish puppy-call that had no worded equivalent. His thinness bothered her, and though she was old and brittle, the silver-shaded hybrid had a strong desire to do nothing but lay dead things at his feet for him to devour. She would lick the blood from his face, cleaning him and filling the hollow spaces between his bones with flesh.

Samael Lykoi · 03-05-2011, 01:44 AM

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Her voice, that sound, it brought him back to a time before the world was ever filled with hatred or pain—before her love had been stolen away, divided amongst others, and before anyone existed outside of him, her, and his siblings. They’d been raised in seclusion, kept apart from the rest of the world. He’d been taught who and what he was. He’d never found need to question his existence. And then others had come, shattering his happiness. Jealousy was invoked.

She was his. He couldn’t exist without her. Inexplicably, he was drawn to her side, seeking to brush noses, and to push his muzzle into her mane, smelling the familiar, warm scent that invoked such soft, sickening feelings within him. He was evaporating. There was nothing horrible in the world when she was around. He whined softly in return, almost inaudibly.

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Kaena Lykoi · 03-05-2011, 05:43 AM

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Word Count → 522 :: KAENA LOVES HER SAMBABY IN INAPPROPRIATE WAYS. Also I could not remember if we are playing like they ~*did the nasty*~ last time and if they didn't, um, well, I guess a lot of this post is useless. 8D You only really need to read the second paragraph, I guess. :| She just touches him. Sorry for spam~ First and last paragraphs are introspective and can be skipedededed.

There was trust and easiness with Samael, something that existed with few other men anymore -- the silver-shaded hybrid could trust that the skinny coyote hybrid would never love her an ounce less than he did at that very moment. As for any of her other children, well -- even Gabriel would have killed her, should she have showed him the right signs of madness. Samael, on the other hand, would accept her no matter what -- he would love her no less for any flaw and weakness she showed him, and she could trust this completely, as she could also trust that he would never hurt her -- Kaena thoroughly believed the gold-streaked coyote would have stood still and allowed himself to be destroyed if she willed it. He had offered his life to her enough times, anyway -- the scarred Centurion had never wanted it, however. At least, she had not wanted it in the way he was willing to give it. She had given him his blood, and she would not take it away from him. They had tried other ways, of course, but maybe it truly was for the best that Samael remained outside of Inferni. Gabriel was more comfortable this way, and it had seemed Samael was, too.

There was never anger in the old woman for his disappearances; of all her vast family, the hybrid felt she understood him and his reasons for it more than any of them. His madness was as if the tide itself moving in him, pushing and shoving him ashore to her, then pulling him away just as abruptly. In any case, the coyote understood it, maybe better than anyone else could. Even so, Kaena held no pretenses of comprehending the truth depths of madness within Samael, as she would not even acknowledge these parts to anyone else, especially not Gabriel. Her hands brushed against the sides of his face, his neck, his ribs; her fingers loosely followed along the knotted and twisted scar tissue beneath his thicker winter coat. She did not need to verbalize that she missed him. This was plain to see from her reaction at his return, as always.

Still, there was a different ache for him in her now, one that was decidedly un-motherly. She hadn't told anyone, of course -- the only one she might have told, the only one who might have understood, she thought, was Lolita Monroe, the cream-and-red Dahlian wolf who spoke of loving her sister. The woman was distant enough to Kaena to be seen as non-threatening and unlikely to tell anyone the Centurion personally knew, and as per their previous conversation, the coyote thought she might understand. The old coyote hadn't seen her wolf neighbor in more months than she cared to think of, however, and she had no idea if the woman was still even present in Dahlia de Mai or the peninsula at all. And so what had transpired between them remained Kaena's secret, although not one she held as particularly dark or dirty; the old coyote simply figured -- rightly so -- that others would not understand.

Samael Lykoi · 03-09-2011, 04:36 PM

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The ice that had surrounded her, protecting her, was slowly melting, carrying him away with it. He’d never been so happy before—he had never known such an abrupt ending to his misery, not since he’d been a child. This was paradise—he was dead. Once, she’d denied his affections, reinforcing how the outside world meant them to be. But that façade was slipping. She touched him—his face, his body—and his tongue moved to brush her arm just as any adoring lapdog’s might. His bones shifted and popped, dragging him from the four-limbed, natural form that he’d been born into to become the thin, ragged abomination that stood tall on hind legs when he was not crouched so passively before the silver-furred she-yote.

“I found Eterne,” he said once his body had stilled, regaining composure after wrenching limbs into bizarre, unnatural shapes. His hand moved to touch the ends of her hair, transfixed by their close proximity. “They treated me like a prince.” He was, after all, of royal blood. Anything less was blasphemy. “I came back though.” Anywhere without Kaena may as well have been hell. “For you.”

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Kaena Lykoi · 03-09-2011, 07:48 PM

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Word Count :: 310 LOOKIT ME ALL THUPERFAST AND SHIT

The Centurion had many lovers throughout her long life, more than she could recall -- some still had names, others still had faces, but to compile a comprehensive list would have been beyond her. The hybrid's memory was no longer sharp regarding the earliest years of her life. While she could draw their compiled story from the details, the silver-shaded woman could not recall everything she had once known about herself. It was a frightening prospect, but the silver-shaded coyote could not dwell on such things, not with Samael in her arms.

The hybrid drew back as he shifted, though even as the long, bedraggled sable hair sprouted from his head, she was brushing it from his face. All the slimness that had been present in his Lupus form seemed accentuated in his Optime form. She touched his fur, fascinated by the grizzled, blackened color that now seemed closer to her own. The word Eterne was spoken, and with sharp surprise, the hybrid looked at him, recognizing this word and all that it meant. It was not her heritage to judge, however -- she was not of this place, and Samael, in some strange way, was. He had never belonged to Astaroth, of course, but he had come from that place all the same.

“As you should be,” the hybrid said, leaning back onto the cold ground without a care in the world for it, pulling Samael closer to her. “But you are my prince,” she said, her voice growling low and possessive. “Not theirs.” She shoved her head against his shoulder, resting the top of her muzzle against his throat, her good eye pressed shut against his fur. She could not see anything of the rest of the world, and with nothing to breathe but Samael's scent, she really could pretend the rest of it was not out there.

Samael Lykoi · 03-22-2011, 02:21 AM

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He was so torn and broken, internally ravished. The prince of fear had become true chaos and destruction. Everything that he touched turned to ash between his fingers. He couldn’t embrace anything without its immediate decimation. The rational part of him, the creature that recognized reality, knew that this contentment could not last. Everything was meant to fall apart before him. He wasn’t meant to be happy. It was merely waiting for the impending crash now—the impact that shredded his jugular with shrapnel. But every other aspect of his being was consumed by the maelstrom of his emotion, collapsing beneath the weight of his own desire. Everything else was irrelevant. Nothing but Kaena mattered, and how she pulled him close, resting her head so calmly against his shoulder.

He sunk into her embrace, succumbing to her affection. No one else could tame the wicked monster that he was like she could. He would slit his own throat before he would ever lay a finger on her, intentionally harming her. The same couldn’t be said for his own children. “Samael is yours,” he said, fraying gently. Something shifted nearby. He could hear it. He could smell its flesh, alive with sweat and pulsing blood. His eyes opened, catching brief movement behind a close outcropping of rocks against the ocean of white snow.

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Kaena Lykoi · 03-27-2011, 01:50 AM

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-touch- Totally didn't remember what they were going to kill. -____-

There was no doubt within the scarred Centurion that madness coursed through her son's blood and body. Whether it had come from her or Astaroth or some twisted combination of them both, she could not say -- while she might have thought it had originated wholly within Samael, she knew he had always been twisted in some manner. Some subtle signs, ignored in his youth, now resonated within the silver-shaded woman, taken now as early symptoms or signals or both of some deeper crack in his psyche. Even so, there was no fear within Kaena and there never had been. However mad Samael grew, his love or devotion or obsession (she was not sure what to call it, anymore) would prevail and he would not bring harm to her.

There was a sudden rigidness within his body, a stiff alertness that caused her to draw her head back and away from his fur, her golden eye blinking even in the dull silver light of the moon. The russet-splashed muzzle followed the red-eyed gaze, her single golden eye landing on a small figure, half-obscured by snow and rocks. Though hunger did not gnaw at the old woman's stomach, the sharp angles and clearly palpable bones in Samael's figure were reason enough. She disengaged herself from the boy, pulling herself free of him and motioning in the direction of the yet unknown creature, keeping her own body low and still. Kaena tried to motion to Samael to circle around the rocks and flush the animal toward her, motioning with hands and gestures to communicate rather than speaking. Whatever it was, it was unaware of their presence, and she wished to keep it that way, lest it run in the opposite direction they wanted.

Samael Lykoi · 04-03-2011, 04:23 AM

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I blame the creepiness of this post on the song that I am currently listening to.

She held his heart in her hands. Should she choose to, she could crush her fingers together, turning him to dust. Love was a wicked thing, but she had created him—he couldn’t trust nor love anyone else as completely as he could her. Infancy had invoked warm, terrible feelings that consumed him even now. He couldn’t escape. Even when she’d left, he’d slowly withered away, unable to seal up the bleeding gash where his heart had once been. Always, he was broken and damned, but a peculiar thing, almost like happiness, seeped into his veins within her presence. Her touch was like none other. In her arms alone could he close his eyes and sleep without the skeletal rats clawing at the backs of his eyes, scurrying throughout his skull.

Around her alone was he the child, with reverent, adoring eyes normally so devoid of such affection. Another demon possessed him—a demon possessing the guise of an angel. Slowly, he was released from her grasp—her warmth—and he crept toward the animal, shifting his gaze to keep his mother in his line of sight. Jaws parted, exhaling frozen breath, as he moved low and quiet toward the hidden creature. Close, close, he found the young deer yet oblivious of the stalking predator. He sprung out, snapping his teeth at its haunch and drawing blood. The deer bolted—straight for Kaena. He pursued, keeping close on its heels while avoiding the range of a strike from cloven hoof.

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Kaena Lykoi · 04-08-2011, 09:09 AM

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Word Count → 339

the sun will never shine on this cold dead heart of mine

The grizzled old woman loved all of her children, this was true -- even the traitorous ones, Vitium and Andrezej. Some piece of her would always love them, though she would reject the former and the latter was long dead now. Still, even what the one-eyed coyote might have felt for her other children, the ones who had not betrayed their blood or Inferni, was nothing in comparison to this strange and twisted thing that had risen in her for Samael. She did not have the words to describe it and she did not think they existed in the language she spoke -- maybe some other, long-dead tongue could categorize their relationship and had a word for this strange thing unfolding between them.

There wasn't a moment of futzing around from the dark-streaked man; he slunk away from her and in the direction of the creature. The old woman waited, raptor-yellow eye shifting from Samael's retreating form to the location of the scuffling noises. She expected little more than a rodent, and was surprised at the young deer. A larger, older deer might have been a problem between just the two of them, but then again, an older deer would have been more alert to the world around it. The hybrid stood her ground as the deer careened the short distance between them and attempted to swerve. Her yellowed teeth were drawn out and protruding wickedly from curled lips as she swung her clawed hand toward the creature, the sharp tips of them aiming to sweep the creature's neck or shoulder.

Rewarding warmth flooded over her hand and arm as her claws tore through the deer's shoulder, slicing and tearing at the thick muscle there. The tawny creature staggered and continued to half-run on three legs, barely making it to the edge of the clearing before it fell completely, skidding to a stop on the ground. It thrashed and rolled, attempting to stand once again -- even the simplest of actions was made impossible by the pain and panic.

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Samael Lykoi · 04-09-2011, 07:55 AM

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Her blow mangled the creature’s shoulder. It fell to the ground some distance away, writhing in terror, unable to submit to the impending death caused by the two predators. Samael moved in, crouching over the deer and pinning it to the earth with his clawed hands. His jaws found the throat, shredding muscle and flesh, spurting blood out across his muzzle while the heart still beat.

Dark eyes turned to glass as the spark within faded, leaving behind only a corpse. Ravenous, he tore the neck to the bone, exposing pale shards that turned to splinter between his teeth. He couldn’t stand the weight of a full belly. This was part of his bane. Even so, he tore open the belly and sought the heart, prying it from its fragile cage.

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Kaena Lykoi · 04-09-2011, 08:06 AM

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the sun will never shine on this cold dead heart of mine

The silver-shaded canine had killed more times than she cared to think about -- prey and canines alike had fallen between her yellowed teeth. For good reason, bad reason, and no reason at all, she had killed -- now it was to sustain her son, the flesh she had born out of her own body. The deer was not hers to kill, however, and she waited, one remaining eye watching as Samael went forward, little urgency in his steps. The tawny creature could not walk -- it wasn't going anywhere. There was a red arc and spray of blood from the creature, one great geyser of blood followed by smaller spurts as the animal died, its heart ceasing to beat rather quickly once its throat was so neatly removed.

She crept up to his side, sliding next to him and leaning forward to watch as his hands pried through flesh and muscle, pulling and shoving useless intestines aside in search of that lovely red muscle, the source of life from within the now dead deer. Dead as it was, warmth wafted from its innards, clearly palpable even at the distance Kaena stood from the corpse with the heavy and sharp scent of blood. Red flecks clung to Samael, widening into long, rust-colored streaks in places, clinging wetly to his fur. Chunks of the deer hung from the fur along his arms and hands, the insides of the creature spilling into the silver-pale moonlight now. The still-twitching thing sat in his hands, torn from its resting place in the deer's chest cavity.

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Samael Lykoi · 04-09-2011, 09:33 AM

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The heart was the prize, still beating faintly and warm to his touch. He pried it loose, pulling it free from arteries and veins and devouring half with ravenous inhibition. Of course, he hadn’t forgotten about his beloved. She’d moved beside him and he rose, straightening and offering her the other half.

Of course, he didn’t simply stand up—no, that would be far too simple. Bloodstained and brutal, he intentionally seemed to slide against her, slithering close with his offering in hand. One hand, sticky and red, moved along her side with his movement as the other held out the dark, dripping mass of muscle.

“For you,” he purred, lips curved into a devilish smile of adoration.

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Kaena Lykoi · 04-13-2011, 03:18 PM

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the sun will never shine on this cold dead heart of mine

His body brushed hers, very nearly hot with what she was certain must be desire -- the hunt was brief, the kill swift. He hadn't expended so much energy as to make him blazingly warm to the touch, as if fire-sparked from the inside. Her remaining eye half-lidded at his touch and she smiled a crooked sort of grin, her yellowed teeth running out as she drew her lips up and curled them. Did he mean the heart, or himself? She didn't need to question this notion much, for the answer was obvious.

She bent her head forward to take the heart from his hands with her mouth, her hands dangling forgotten at her sides before she brought them up to him, her fingers brushing the flecks of flesh from his fur and drawing along the gold-black of his arms. Her touch ran against raised scar tissue and other knotted imperfections in the flesh, cuts and scratches and gouges drawn through the man's flesh by others and himself both. Her teeth met muscled red flesh and she swallowed it whole, her tongue lapping gently at the lingering remnants of red streaked there.

The old woman was alight with fire that had been extinguished in her before, goaded and drawn to arousal in this defiance of the praxis of typical mother-son relations. She was not certain if it was the defiance of those norms that added that delicious edge, that something that she had missed for far longer than Ahren had been dead.

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Samael Lykoi · 04-22-2011, 09:36 PM

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He would never force himself on her. She alone was safe. Perhaps there was something of the masochist in his inhibition, holding himself back so carefully, waiting for the moment that may never come, bringing an end to his perpetual desire. Would he die the instant they touched? Would he combust, turning to flames, and eventually ash? More and more she tantalized him, drawing ever closer. She took the heart; her hands moving along his arms, over the rough surface of the ancient scars carved there so long ago.

Oh, how he wanted to take her right there, but restrain otherwise unknown held him back, rooting him to the spot. Her tongue brushed across his hands, removing the red from the palms, and he found them moving along her neck, pulling her into an embrace forbidden by the realm of normal society. His nose moved along her jaw-line, inhaling her scent before his tongue darted between his teeth, tasting her.

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Kaena Lykoi · 05-18-2011, 01:51 AM

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Word Count → 458

Mmm. I am kind of glad I waited on this post now because today's Word of the Day is perfect. 9_9 Also marked it mature at this point, even if nothing really happens in this post. >_>

He had come from her; his flesh was her own, his blood her own. He had never belonged to Astaroth; the man had done nothing more to Samael than contribute genetic material. Samael had gone all the way to Eterne and back -- he had come back for her, she thought. Had he known for fact that she had passed on, he might not have ever left. He might have simply shriveled and died; the connection between them felt very nearly umbilical, and severing it in death may very well have killed him. She did not know; she did not want to think of him dead. He should have been a hundred times over, and she should have, as well.

His arms wrapped securely about her neck, and his tongue was on her; her yellow-golden eye half-lidded, softly growling her pleasure. She had been untouched since that fall; she had not dared engage another. The hybrid was fearful of spreading her legs and finding herself sullied, all the maggots and reeking scent of death emanating from her. She was afraid he had ruined her; she was afraid she would have been broken, unable to find pleasure in even beautiful Samael. She would cross this line; it was at this point that she wanted to. No other man would do. She would commit this connubial act with him, and forever blur (or erase entirely) that boundary that had existed between them. It now seemed unnatural, twisted.

Such fears had been unfounded, at least where Samael was concerned. The old hybrid could not speak for all other men, but Samael -- she knew he would not hurt her. He would do nothing that she did not explicitly request with voice or fingers or tongue of her own. The grizzled woman put her left hand to the ground, the right looping low around his back, leaning backwards herself while tugging him gently down over her. She pressed against the small of his back until their bodies touched together. Both seemed to be nearly feverish, fire searing through their veins.

Her breath seemed to come quicker, and her hand traced down his spine, touching the muscled flesh there. There was no bulk of it within Samael, certainly, but there was a tough, sinewy sort of muscle in him nonetheless. It was none too dissimilar from her old flesh, though his was certainly filled with more vigor and spry youth now. Her fingers drew along the curve of his buttock, squeezing gently as her tongue reached for his muzzle, flickering softly at his lips. The gray coyote thought she would have begun to feel nervousness, fear, something by now if she was going to, but caution tethered her to a maddeningly slow pace regardless.

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