[M] the devil made you look

Salvia Eternity · 03-04-2012, 07:17 PM

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WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain graphic violence and suggestive sexual content, possible trauma triggers. Reader discretion is advised.

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The raid had been both a success and a horrible failure. Salvia had thought they were safe until she watched Magnolia fall, Magnolia be taken. It had been her command that forced them to flee; she on horseback and TK running behind. If they had stopped it would have meant a failure even greater—their captured quarry would have escaped and they would have returned empty handed. Yet she felt the loss severely, knowing it was now to fall on her shoulders alone.

Two horses and three of the long-necked animals were her prize, and Salvia observed them with the cool and calculating gaze that had made her Ganadera. She observed all of the animals with a lack of romanticism that only allowed for favoring those with talent. Misty she favored, though her use was now void with birth fast approaching. Her own colt was now a yearling and soon she could take to riding him. Horse and Luna were also wider than expected, meaning she would need to be confined to the barn for the next few days. While she did not doubt that the horses were capable of birthing on their own, Larkspur had warned her about being present in the event any problems arose.

She finally resigned herself to her purpose and made the long walk to Sirius’ home. It was taken with heavy steps, blonde hair pulled away from her face and muscular body nude save for the belt upon her hips. Salvia did not know what to expect from the Boss, but she knew he would not be pleased. By the time she had made it to his door, her mind had already formed a wall of frost around her emotions; she would not show him weakness, not when the fault had been her own. That much she owed to the man she honored beyond even her father.

Sirius Revlis · 03-23-2012, 11:27 AM

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Blarp, here I am! >> Word Count: 2+

Sirius by Nat

Yellow teeth flickered as black lips pulled up, air hissing between these clenched daggers as the King finished winding the strip of material about his arm. The wound inflicted by the Sequoian whore was infected, but the infection was not a deep one - He had shifted back into his two-legged form too soon, re-opening the softly knitted flesh. The sting was greeted as an old conquest, a familiar ache with which to rekindle his irritation. Biting down on one end of the stained off-white material he was using for a bandage, Sirius jerked his arm and head roughly, tightening the knot until he was confident it would not slide undone.

Gingerly, the man ran his wicked claws over the wrapped wound. Already, a few beads of blood oozed nearer to the surface layer, leaving a mottled line that traced the scar. With a weary sigh, the man shook his lanky form free of the stiffness that riddled his muscles, which had been locked and tense in the expectation of pain. He slumped into the stone throne central to his chamber, the folds of the bear-cloak encompassing the man's angular, muscular form, welcoming it into the ocher softness like the arms of an eager lover. But no such warmth emanated from the dead skin as from the voluptuous form of a woman, and Sirius was left to bask in his bitter loneliness.

He may have napped, albeit briefly, but was jerked back into consciousness by sound pervading his outer senses. One large coyote ear twitched - A frenzied mind, poisoned by its paranoia, leapt into sudden awareness. Luminous acidic eyes opened, the narrowed pupils within fixing at the bleary light that streamed in from his doorway. A shadow lingered there; One the king knew well, with the intimacy of blood-kin. His weapon had returned to him, and he was eager for the news she brought. "Enter, Salvia," Came the tenor tones, a serpentine hiss rasping on the end of a voice coated heavily with the most delicious and sumptuous of hues. The serpent was well known to have a silver tongue, and few were further under it's power than the daughter of Eris and Larkspur.

Salvia Eternity · 03-24-2012, 01:52 AM

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Since she had been a child, a careful and well-planned warping of her person had been groomed. Salvia was a perfect follower in this sense; the problem arose when she was presented with those she deemed as lesser. Instinctively her desire was to repress the weak. Faults were apparent to her; she saw them in the faces of all those below her rank, and in every form that was labeled outsider. Even her own family was put under this close inspection, for not that long ago the man within these walls had told her the truth of such matters. This artful manipulation, therefore, had taken what was left of her empathy and replaced it with the harsh Northland attitude that prevailed among those who had survived it to gain rank in the Thistle Kingdom.

His voice called from within the building. It was something well crafted and had she not known him so well, she might have missed the dagger hiding under black velvet. Salvia turned her ears back. With her shoulders squared and head high, she entered into his throne room. It reeked of his dominating male-musk, of the dead bear pelt, of foreign spice and unfamiliar women. These latter scents were fading; she wondered where his companion was but knew better than to ask. Salsola valued secrecy; it was a core value within their homeland, and to her among the strongest.

Yet she could not lie to him, for it was dishonorable and went against the other value she held above all others. The scientific mind within the girl sought simpler worlds; by condensing and stripping the fat of their lengthy behavior patterns and rules, she found easy laws. This allowed her to display a remarkable sense of self-control. A weaker person might have made excuses; Salvia had none.

“My lord,” she greeted him formally, and brushed her muzzle against his own. In doing so, she intentionally exposed her throat; it was a sign of submission, one that went above any pretense of groveling. What rebellion lived in her was not for him. “The borders of the mountain pack were crossed. We brought three of their beasts, and two horses for trade.” Her eyes fell, displaying that what she said next was the truth; to look him in the eye and speak of it would be most terrible. “We were spotted. In our withdraw, I failed to protect the Family—they have captured Magnolia.”

Her voice fell silent as she awaited punishment, head and ears bowed.

Sirius Revlis · 03-25-2012, 11:45 PM

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Sirius by Nat

She entered, and he was again made aware of the womanliness of her form. Salvia had been his puppet since her birth, and for a long time he had known her only as that - A tool, a weapon. More recently, her worth had immensely increased, and she was now an extension of him; Like an extra limb, something so attuned to his own personal self that she could be relied on to enforce his rule without challenging it, to speak his words through her own voice. She was invaluable, but in turn, she had cost him a great deal of time and effort. Sirius had poured his skills into the girl; And in some slight betrayal, she had turned into a woman. Her curves were undeniable, her scent likewise. Her gender disrupted his evaluations of her, made it more difficult to allow himself to totally trust in her, for women held a strange place within the mind of the Thistle King.

His muzzle lifted, that hers might brush against it, as was their formal manner of greeting. The king reclined back into his chair - He did not immediately see within her the reason for her hesitance, nor any impending foulness to her report. A complacency had been allowed to form within the monarch; It was his assumption that, when Salvia undertook a task, she did so to the completion of standards that he had set. She had never before failed him, and thus, he had no reason to expect failure from her.

The pearly cream of her throat was flashed before him, perhaps the only softness to her toned, warrior-hardened body. In spite of himself, a strange thrill of lust curled tendrils within his veins. The King frowned.

Her report was given swiftly, directly, but before the first word had but fallen from her lips, he knew. It was written in her expression. A cold, hardness steeled within his gut; The bitter taste of disappointment vile within his maw. Any warmth or welcome within his seated posture evaporated. He rose slowly as she spoke, and the coldness to his eyes hid well enough the deep anger within. The serpent uncoiled slowly, and when she had finished her part, stared directly at the lowered eyes. Black lips peeled up to reveal the rows of yellow taint, the glistening daggers that knew death like the caress of a lover. Venom pooled in his mouth. "You have failed me," The words were spoken in a flat, polished tone, and with a movement as fast as the strike of a viper, his right hand whipped back and then forth, creamy palm seeking a direct and harsh contact with the side of her face.

Salvia Eternity · 03-26-2012, 12:39 AM

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There had been a fault within her from birth, given further credence by the way in which she had been raised. Salvia had been given few restrictions and fewer examples of true and proper behavior; she was defiant and arrogant to a fault. Even concepts that should have been given depth were shallow and left to rot within the pit of a soul she carried in her belly. She was a machine; she was a tool. She, the Tiger of Salsola, was no more than a beast chained and kept close to her master’s side. The blonde girl could no more disobey him then her own slave could defy her will. It was an illusion of freedom that kept her in line.

Yet her training was no competition for instinct. Above all other things, it was the deepest will of all wild things to survive.

Eyes that had come from a dead man widened. She had scarcely time to recognize his approach, and looked up as a stinging slap struck her hard enough that her head reeled. It was an offense she had suffered only once before, and the memories of that shameful display rushed up from the pit of her belly. A deep chested growl rumbled from her throat as she whipped her head up to face him. They were nearly equal in height. Her blonde hair was askew, no longer framing her face but threatening to obscure it. Behind this curtain her face had warped into a snarl, showing teeth not yet yellowed by age. Teeth she had cut on enemies—on his enemies.

There was no thought. Her pupils had widened to black holes, surrounded by a fine ring of burning acid. Whiskers curled upward as the tiger’s claws showed themselves. A madness had taken her; an instinctive, inherited madness that she could not deny. Not even for him.

Sirius Revlis · 03-26-2012, 02:13 AM

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Word Count: 3+

Sirius by Nat

Her head was snapped aside by the force of the blow, an open-handed punishment that sent spirals of pain across the man's palm and up his wounded arm. The pain was nothing akin to the sharp, bladed taste of bitterness that blossomed within him - Her failure was a reflection of his own failure, for what was she but for an example of him? He had schooled her so thoroughly, had spent so much energy perfecting her, that this disappointment was felt almost as shamefully as if it had been his own. The anger was poisonous, and fast to flow through his veins.

Her head was slower on its return, a gradual twist as she faced him once more. But there was no dull defeat within the girl's gaze, no acceptance of her punishment. The eyes that turned to glare at him were feline; The teeth that snarled at him were the Tigress'. He recognized her defiance instantly, and what harsh disappointment was left within him burst into flames of fury.

Black lips peeled back, revealing the serpent's yellowed fangs. That she had disobeyed him in allowing one of their own to be captured was one thing, worthy of shame and pain, but this challenge could not go so lightly chided. There was a danger to Salvia that could not be ignored, and deep beneath the writhing coils of his sudden rage was the knowledge that she needed to be put most thoroughly into her place, for this could be the only time that he held enough physical power to do so. Sirius was getting older - Not fast, nor soon, but older nonetheless. And while his power was still currently at it's height, his dominance needed to be asserted most firmly, most thoroughly, so that she would never again question it, not even when he was little more than a bag of old grizzled bones.

A snarl oozed from between his jaws, and it was truly a terrible sound. The King was little more than a beast, parading as a gentleman - She, before all others, knew this. Her actions had released the Hunter, and his wrath was primal, instinctual, and final. If she continued this path of betrayal, he would kill her in cold blood.

Muscles tensed and released, and his form lunged towards her own snarling one, hands and wickedly sharp claws extended. His goal was to use his barely-superior size to wrestle her to the ground, where fate would lie in her own reaction.

Salvia Eternity · 03-26-2012, 02:30 AM

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Most certainly her Lord, this man who had the gall to call himself a King, was no more than a charlatan. He was a true beast in the way of the old ones; he knew the law of club and fang and had taught it well. She in her youth was only capable of learning through experience; a year had done nothing but promote what discipline was social, but not when her livelihood was threatened.

A wicked sound seeped through the air and to hear dark ears. Salvia pinned these flat against her head; a part of her mind still feared him, but this part of her was a minor fraction lost in the haze of the assault. Her body prepared for the attack even while her mind grappled with what was happening. She snarled as he lunged, and her feet scrambled against the uneven floor. Her toes sprawled wildly, but the sudden ferocity of his attack had caught her off-guard.

His weight struck her hard in the chest and sent her reeling. Both feet slipped from under her and she felt herself fall. Both of her hands lashed out; claws dug into his arms, high above the elbow. She dug into him even as her back hit the ground hard, sending white-hot pain up through her spine and chest.

Sirius Revlis · 03-26-2012, 02:41 AM

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Sirius by Nat

Most of his danger lay in his unpredictability. Sirius was a wayward devil; None could ever be entirely sure of the method of his madness, of the progress of his thoughts, for he was in one form a genius. But the other, this darkness within, was the true core of the male - A beast fit to leap from the pages of old scripture, tales of hellhounds and beasts that ravaged mankind with despair and death. They were his ancestors, they who had lingered in the darkness and fed on the weakness of other beasts - It was they who commanded his actions now, in the unwritten law dictated through their very bones, their very beings.

His body collided with her own in a muffled thump, a sound sharpened by the accentuation of snarls and the hissing of breath exhaled between snarling jaws and a cage of yellowed teeth. Down, their twisting bodies fell, to the hard and cold compact surface of the earth. A white-hot pain lanced his vision as her claws dug into the tender flesh of his most recent wound, re-opening it, puncturing it with the tiger's claws. His hot blood, royal blood, oozed warm and inky onto her hand.

But he would show no weakness, and released no sound of pain, merely a blood-curdling growl that echoed from his chest and was released, with force, into her own snarling features. The wounded arm was jerked back and, as his weight held her down, his fist was swung deftly to attempt to connect with her skull. There was real force behind the intended blow; enough that blood from his re-opened wound was flown in little ruby droplets into the air, scattering about them.

Salvia Eternity · 03-26-2012, 02:53 AM

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A heredity of survivalist mentality had given her genetics creed. Her mother’s bloodline boasted the hardiest dog breeds, the strength of her immortal grandmother. From her father came size and the sheer will to survive; he had lived through a hell that would have killed many because of these alone. They had both recognized some superiority in their breeding, and thus produced strong children. Intelligent as Salvia was, she surpassed both parents. It was apparent in her comprehension of the world, of her ability to adapt. Now, though, she was only fighting to survive. Deep within her core she feared he would kill her. It was a fear implanted by the providence of his myth, accentuated by what she had seen with her own eyes and knew in her heart. Family did not matter, and while she called this man uncle, he was no more blood-kin to her then her own brother.

Her fur darkened as his blood spilled down her arm, oozing towards her elbow. They did not speak. There was no need for words; she understood everything he said far too clearly. A hand forced itself just out of the snapping reach of her teeth, pinning her with the entirety of his weight. Something struck her hard; her vision went white for an instant. The pain of it cause her head to whip to the side again, and her teeth clicked together solidly on the tip of her tongue. Blood filled her mouth. It flew up towards him as she snarled in objection, trying to force her head up to snap at his face.

One of her legs wretched free of the great mass of his weight. It struck up high and hard, aiming to throw him from her. If she could get to her feet she would have a fighting chance.

Sirius Revlis · 03-26-2012, 03:08 AM

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Sirius by Nat

There was perhaps a flicker of fear in her eyes, now - A flicker of realization that she had truly overstepped her bounds. A flicker of the girl behind the tiger, numbly aware of the terrifying hollowness within the man she called uncle, the man she called King.

The emptiness within him was hereditary. His father, the black-blooded prince, had festered within his own vastness - Sirius bordered the madness, lined it with genius and cunning. But if she looked into the vastness of his acidic eyes, she would be able to see it - The gaping, yawning chasm within his engorged pupils, a bottomless black that ended only in death.

His knuckled made a satisfying CRACK! as they connected with the planes of her beautiful face, and again her head was thrown aside by the force of it. His right arm screamed in agony, droplets of blood spilling over her tossing form. His weight shifted over her, and the beast was intimately aware of the way her body writhed against his own; The needle-eye blade that separated fury from passion, the sheer opacity that separated his instinctual drive to kill, and his instinctual drive to fuck. Dominance came in all forms, and it pulsed through his blood, oozed out his pores. She ought to have known better than to challenge it, for he was a god - He was invincible.

Her blood was spat into his face as the woman snarled, her freed leg recoiling and lashing out in an attempt to kick him off of her grounded form. Her heel connected rather solidly with the side of his abdomen before sliding off, and in his breathlessness, her seeking fangs grazed the slide of his maw, just barely tearing the skin there. His own jaws responded instantly, baring against her own to block them, and this time when his fist raised it aimed low, a blow that sought her abdomen. The hand that was roughly pinning her down slipped higher as his weight shifted, nearing her collar-bone, inching closer to the soft cream of her throat.

Salvia Eternity · 03-26-2012, 03:28 AM

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Broad concepts—those of morality, for example—were beyond her. There was no room in her for faith. She knew only blood, and knew only the law of the strong. This was the only true religion. Her mother and father believed in greater powers, but in her time knowing their gods, she had come to see them as ideas and not physical things she could touch or feel or even fear. This demon above her, this man she loved above her own father, he was her god. He was a god of true fear and of true wrath.

Her head was pulsing with dull, steady pain. There were sharper instances of it from where he struck her, and she felt her skin aflame. Something else was burning too; it was a strange feeling, somewhere between her belly and her loins. Never before had a man been atop her; never before had she felt her dominance forced into such a low state. Of the primal needs she knew and understood, sex was not yet one. Therefore, she felt an ache and did not know what it was, but in some way, it felt different from the pain.

For a brief moment, she felt a rush of mad triumph as she struck him. Then too suddenly a fist of iron slammed into her well toned belly. A gasp of pain escaped her and was cut off as his hand clenched around her throat. Now, true panic began to sink in. Her writhing motion became thrashing; she bucked her hips against him, trying to find a grip with her feet. His other hand had come down on her throat and still snarling, she began clawing at his wrists in an attempt to free herself from the terrible pressure that was slowly cutting off air from her lungs.

Sirius Revlis · 03-26-2012, 03:41 AM

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Sirius by Nat

The entire right side of his body burned with pain; Sharp, sweet, cascading waves of pain that were warped by adrenaline and twisted into fuel for the continued storm of his wrath. His fist found the hard planes of her stomach, dealt a crushing blow there, and her exhale blew the ripe scent of blood into his waiting nostrils. He drew it deep into his lungs, that gasp of hers, the expression of surprise that painted her features with agony.

And then his fingers clasped about the soft warmth of her throat, and the sound was cut off, softly, sweetly.

His other hand joined the first one, and her throat was red with the blood on his hands. Her body began to buck beneath him, a frenzy of the living, a sudden craving for oxygen that pushed her mind into the blank space reserved only for immediate survival. He watched her pupils dilate, and the snarl on his face became a twisted smile, grotesque and horrible, his yellowed teeth stained with her own blood. Power pulsed through him, thick and desirable, and the writhing of her hips was suddenly erotic, suddenly gleeful to him. His body crushed down against her own, his hips solidly blocking the bucking of her frame, which had begun to arch desperately in an effort to free itself from him. His thumbs dug hard into the area about her windpipe, feeling the pulse there as it hammered against his palms.

His expression was darkness, deeply primal. He was a monster, in this moment - He was a reaper. He was her Lord and her Master, and her life was beating between his hands. The surge of arousal was almost enough to make him groan, as blood from his maw dripped down onto her beaten, upturned face.

Salvia Eternity · 03-26-2012, 04:00 AM

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There had never before been a time when Salvia had truly felt fear for her life. Neither of the Inferni coyotes had offered her a true challenge. The attack on her home had only left her full of terrible anger. Even fleeing Ichika had been without any panic. It was an unwelcomed feeling. She felt it grow from the pit of her belly and rise up to her throat, where it was caught under his unbreakable grip. In her chest her heart fluttered like a bird, desperate to escape the most fearful thing of all.

He pressed against her, crushing her completely. Salvia felt something warm and hot against her thigh, against that area where her own body yet betrayed her and yearned for something she did not understand. A deep instinct warned her against this thing, but she could not comprehend why. Teeth stained by her own blood were bared, no longer in a snarl just of anger, but one of panic and desperation.

Her vision shrunk to the face of the man she loved, to the man who was killing her. It was the face of all the dark gods she had ever imagined, the face of those nightmarish things that lived in the deepest places of the world. Blood splattered against her opened mouth, against her bruised face. There was scarcely a part of her beautiful pelt that was not ruined.

Salvia’s body, ultimately, was what force her surrender. The fight drained from it with each gasping breath, with each ounce of pressure that he applied to her throat. Her body stilled under him. Her hands ceased clawing at his wrists and clung to them limply. Her eyes grew cloudy as her face lost its terrible mask. In desperation, she summoned the last of her strength and a high, almost puppyish whine escaped her.

Sirius Revlis · 03-26-2012, 04:18 AM

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Sirius by Nat

He was breathing heavily, but only half of it was from exertion. The skin around his wrists was marred by her claws, many little cuts growing steadily bloodier as her frenzy increased; But he felt no pain, could feel nothing but the fire within his body, the ultimate glory of power that thrilled him as no other. Triumph gave his bloodied arm strength, and though the damaged muscle that had taken the worst of her blows trembled with pain that he would soon feel, the man's grip about her throat was iron. Like a bulldog to the bait, he was relentless as she shook and heaved, snarled and scratched, a banshee caught by the hair.

Finally, suddenly, it stopped. Her body collapsed beneath him, and grew still; The frantic beating beneath his fingers slowing to a flutter. His bloody facade remained a mask of terror, awaiting some new burst of energy, yet none came. A soft sound permeated the ringing within his ears - A sound he had not heard her make for many, many moons.It was an eerie sound, misplaced amongst her ravaged, bloodied face, wrong to have been heard during his aroused frenzy, and it offset a strange portion of him.

Sirius blinked, and saw the strange glossiness of her eyes - Only then, slowly, did he ease the pressure from her throat. The entirety of his body thrummed and pulsed with a mass of excess energy, the build up of a fatal fight, one that the primal beast within him had been so determined to end in death or rape. But, monster though he was, Sirius was no true sadist, nor was he a murder unnecessarily. The businessman within him still held too much control for that. He teetered on the brink of it, certainly - His mind considered how her throat would taste as his fangs sank into it, how her body would feel as his own claimed it, dominated it, in the most poignant of ways - and yet slowly, acid eyes were left to focus on her battered form, the broken face that awaited him.

Suddenly, his sexual drive was gone, and in it's place was a deep feeling of repulsion. He rose swiftly, face betraying no hint of the searing agony in his arm; Black lips, one torn, writhed over his teeth in disgust. He spat at her, a glob of blood and saliva, before speaking in a voice that slided like rusted metal against his bloodied tongue. "Get out of my sight."

Perhaps this was mercy, but there were only thin strands of consciousness that were currently restraining him; If she showed any sign of disobedience, her death would have no such restraint.

Salvia Eternity · 03-26-2012, 04:32 AM

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For the first time in her life, Salvia had tasted fear and known what it was. It tasted like iron. Her body was very still, and she felt every wound, every bruised part of her skin that would come to torment her in the following days. Never before had she felt such agony; never before had she looked upon her own death. There was a stark reality to this lesson, for a part of her knew it was such. Rebellion had no room under the hand of her uncle-king, and he had no mercy for anyone—not even her.

Yet he released her. She watched him with hazy eyes, watched as he rose. For an instant she remained still, but then a barking command was issued. Quickly, the girl scrambled to her feet. She staggered away from him, only regaining composure when she no longer looked him in the eye. Head bowed, Salvia bolted out into the cold night air. It pierced her desperate lungs with a pain almost as sharp as the one around her throat. She sucked it in, heard an odd, half-choked sob escape her.

She forced composure onto herself and disappeared into the night.

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