[M] there's a fire starting in my heart
#1
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WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.
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A starless night afforded cover, and his steps were silent. Ezekiel moved without fear—the attacks had come during the day, come in brazen madness and from the east. Yet…yet he could not forgo the doubt that lingered in his paranoid mind. Even now as he trailed through the Waste he saw glimpses of light in the corners of his eyes. Thrice he wheeled on it, and once he had caught the trickling of moonlight and fog on a night that gave no sight. He showed his teeth to the phantom and felt a terrible cold touch him deep in his belly. Something heavy rolled over there and he wondered, briefly, if it was his soul.

The Aquila traveled two-legged and unarmed, a gold-black shape moving against the wind. He moved with purpose, as terrible as it was. His trust was nonexistent these days and apparent. Even Max, who he considered the closest thing to true council he had, was met with aggression. War made for madness, but the paranoia within the de le Poer had been long standing.

He left the Waste behind and made fair time crossing Drifter Bay. The pace of the wolf was his—as his father before him—and it was made apparent when he traveled. As he neared the edge of the no-man’s land that separated their kingdoms, a red crown rose high atop his head. Dark nose turned to the air, and he scented with his mouth open, ivory teeth showing and tongue lolling in the night. Silver flashed at his throat. The Lion of Judah stood in silence, waiting.

He would come.

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#2
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HAIL THE CONQUEROR WORM

WC (+5) Rar!


The fires burned in his eyes, sizzling in the depths of toxic acid. They had shone there, a reflection, as the dead man's pyre had burnt and burnt, and the black smoke had billowed up into the grey Northern sky.


He was no stranger to death, and yet, this felt like a robbery. Sirius felt as though he had been cheated in some way, as though he had been fooled by the omnipotent presence of death, fooled into a false sense of security that he should never have felt. Perhaps there was guilt, festering deep beneath the blanket of his unbearable fury, but for now it would remain hidden.


A good man had been taken from him, and although his reptilian heart might not have known what to make of it, he had felt the loss deeply. Larkspur had been one of the founding five - He had been a brother, a bearslayer. The only creature to have truly held all of the Revlis man's fictional trust. There was anger against the dead man, anger at the betrayal of his death, anger that his great size and strength had failed him at a time when Sirius had not been there to ward off the blow, to fend off the bear's wicked claws.


Salvia had returned to him, but her consciousness was bittersweet. The girl was currently little more than an echo of the Ruins she lived in - crumbling, unstable. Until her sorrow passed, she was useless to him.


He did not have much of an understanding of grief, of mourning. It was much easier to feel betrayal and hatred, and thus, the King turned to these furies instead.


His form was that from a nightmare, a gaunt silhouette of darkness slashed out of the surrounding foliage. In this shape, he was a creature made of terror and sharp angles; Lean to the point of disheveled starvation, but for the iron muscles that were slick over pale bones. Long legs moved in an effortless lope. He had maintained a composure of two-legged civility right to the end of the ritual - That much respect, at least, would be granted the unwise dead. But then the King had taken to this feral demeanor, unleashing the beast within, and had been running through the forest since.


Perhaps it had been an hour, two. He had found a doe, and with little grace at all, ripped out its warm throat. The blood remained on him, still, strange and grotesque for a male normally so fastidiously clean and handsome. The kill had not diffused enough energy, and patrolling the borders had seemed pathetic; the dark night called him beyond, and like an obedient servant, the serpent followed.


The sky was a pool of ebony ink, liquid and infinite as it stretched above him. No god laughs at me, from such a plinth, yellow teeth flashed in a snarl, acidic eyes rolling to the deep still heavens above, full of spite. Something sang to his blood, and the primal urges carried him onwards, onwards to the only other creature in these dark woods who might have understood the madman's plight.


He made no attempt to hide his approach from Ezekiel - The male would have scented his approach. Regardless, large paws held an unearthly silence worn well by the Hunter as he broke apart from the shadows. The other man held his contained form, and within, Sirius felt the shame and weakness at being seen in this shape - The monstrous beast revealed himself to the other, padding out into the open, his lips peeled back such that giant yellowed fangs could glint. Thick shackles quivered in the still, silent air, and the anger beat drums of war within his blood. Paranoia and suspicion warped within his ravaged mind, producing only copious amounts of fury, that glittered and oozed in the acid of his glowing eyes.


What trust he might have held within the other was shattered by the rawness of this unfamiliar grief. "Mercenaries? Do you reap gold while they tear at my borders?" His logical mind knew that the invaders were not kin of Ezekiel - They were wolves, all of them, and as far as he knew Inferni had never employed such guerilla tactics. Yet the suspicion eroded his temper, and his rationality, and suddenly the golden male was just as guilty as all the others who had allowed for Larkspur to die. "What right has your filth to venture so close to what is mine, but for treachery and warmongering?" His voice was a venomous, rasping growl, lisped slightly by being pushed around such elongated incisors. His muscles bunched, and released, and with the speed of a snake's strike the Salsolan King was hurtling towards Gabrielson, a snarl of exquisite death spilling from his parted jaws and out into the still, dark night.


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#3
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these will probably get longer :| also that is a hot table



Death had never touched his family. It had, of course, but the Aquila had never been there to see it. He had once feared the mountain’s wrath when it came for his father, but only Marlowe had been lost. Gabriel was infallible. God was infallible. These were principles by which he lived and they allowed for no regret and no mercy. He believed in blood as if it was the only true religion. A scar dappled his chest, another his leg, two his eye and a much deeper and unseen one in the confines of his mortal soul.

A creature of night and of a most terrible kingdom stalked from the forest. It was covered in blood, massive and lean and familiar all at once. He had never looked more hellish, more savage then he did in that moment. And it was only a moment—words came, but they were words that meant nothing. Ezekiel watched his face and his body and knew he faced madness. He embraced it.

One arm was given in sacrifice to yellowing teeth and another went for the throat. Blood spilled freely from where the Thistle King’s jaws tore into his forearm, but Ezekiel was snarling and laughing all at once. He hurled himself into the attack. War was upon them; it was within them, it was them.

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#4
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HAIL THE CONQUEROR WORM

WC (+2) S'cool, brosef <3 And danke! Big Grin


The other met him willingly, as Sirius had known, craved, that he would. There was a rush of mad joy in the knowledge that blood would be shed between them, at last. There was no room for poetic, lyrical thought within him, no room for the etiquette of the peacock and the eagle. In this moment, each was little more than the beast within himself; Raw and powerful, ruthlessly uncontrollable.


His lunge was met with instant retaliation, and even as the beast's wicked incisors found purchase on the flesh of the other man's arm, Ezekiel's clawed fingers were biting at his throat. A strange, blood-curdling sound filled his tufted ears - It was laughter, gleeful fury, and in that moment Sirius understood that the golden man had been needing this release just as desperately.


They fought like lovers, balanced and knowing the base-nature of the other, knowing how to act and counteract. The fight may have appeared as some frenzied, brutal clashing to any onlooker, but to them it was a skilled dance, known at birth and unable to be taught. There was hot blood on his tongue, and delicious pain where the other's claws rent deep into the flesh between his neck and shoulder. The giant beast uttered a low snarl and tore from his grasp, landing for only a moment before meeting the other in another graceful lunge. Blood flowed down his foreleg in inky black rivulets - This time, the monster's entire weight was thrown at the chest of the other, hoping to knock him off his feet and send them both crashing to the earth.


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#5
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They were not the symbols that had chosen them. They were baser things, flesh and blood, and they had no purpose for metaphorical language between them. It was better this way—it was right this way. Ezekiel had been a liar for so long that now, when his world was cracking from the outside, this façade would fall. A cannibal ghost consumed his soul, his mind, and he gave into it now as he had never before.

Each blow was met with a breath of air, an exhale, a gasp of pain. It was an intimate thing, as primal and instinctive as sex, as raw and uncontrollable as a summer storm. Deep grooves were torn into his arm and released. Ezekiel scrambled back, steadied himself. Sirius was magnificent in his fury.

A massive weight collided with his chest, and Ezekiel gave into it. He hit the ground hard and sharp pain rushed up his spine. His hind leg kicked up solidly, flat and hard against the belly of the beast. A cry of outrage escaped him as he hurled Sirius over him. In an instant the Aquila wheeled, leapt to his feet, and launched himself onto the back of the Thistle King. His teeth sank into the thick scruff of loose fur and flesh at the neck to try and secure purchase. Hot blood splattered from his arms as they reached wildly, attempting to grapple the massive Secui body below him.

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#6
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HAIL THE CONQUEROR WORM

WC (+3) SO. GHEY.


The energy burned bright within him, a collapsing star, frenzied in its descent into mindlessness and black death. The path opened before him, and it was rent and torn, bleeding ruin and chaos. He followed it with a maddened glee, unable to refrain, unable to alter the course of this war-beat within his serpentine heart.


For a moment, two gazes would hold eachother; One of blistering gold, hard and molten like the core of the sun, like a fire that would either burn the world clean or burn it to ash; The other, a volatile concoction of acid and venom, spitting and sparking and sizzling through flesh and bone. They were made of the same dark earth, crafted with the same cruel anvil and forge, plucked from the fire and left to glow white-hot in the darkness, two mad creatures ready to burst alight.


The other fell beneath his weight, and the claws on the monster's giant forepaws bit into his golden chest, puncturing skin with the weight behind it. Jaws unhinged like some carnal trap, blood stringing between yellow fangs, ruby spittle spraying at the upturned face of the fallen man. But no further blow could be struck by such cruel jaws, for a hard pain was spiking in his concave stomach, and Sirius was thrown back by muscular legs. He twisted in the air, for a moment beautiful, for a moment graceful; Like a panther, he twisted, limbs seeking purchase on the ground before the body found it. The connection send sparks of pain up his already-ravaged forelegs, now oozing with blood.


He was aware of the movement of the other, simply unable to deflect it; The warmth of Zeke's body folded over him, hard muscles crushed against his spine, and the monster snarled in fury as steel-corded arms snared his body, sharp teeth grasping at that primal area at the base of his throat. Strange warmth flared through his burning veins; Not the fury, but a feeling so similar that it could not be otherwise identified from the murderous passion that had enslaved them both. His body reacted instantly, tail ducking between hind legs to protect the valuable assets there, head twisting wildly as oddly-flexible spine did likewise, writhing beneath the creature that sought to conquer him. Fangs found purchase on a limb grasping his ribcage, crushed down on it; His whole body was thrown into the movement as the male swung his giant head, ripping Zeke from his back and feeling the lancing pain as the man's teeth and other claws took flesh with them.


They were flung apart, but this time Siri was quick to face his foe, skeletal ribcage heaving, beastly jaws open in a bloodied snarl.


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#7
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Between them there was something ancient. They were brothers at war for eternity, men trapped in the crux of a destiny that could not be denied. Ezekiel felt compact muscles bunch under his body, below the thick mess of fur now stained by blood. He held taunt with his teeth, lion-like, and would have kept this purchase if not for a sharp and blinding pain in his left hand. It yanked him with such force that he was thrown bodily through the air, taking skin and flesh and fur with him.

His shoulder hit the ground hard, sending him skidding in the grass. One hand dug into the earth and hoisted him to a low crouch. Half-hunched, he snarled a furious response to the King. Blood seeped freely from his arm and wounded hand, splattered his body and dripped from his mouth. Dust coated his brilliant pelt, and wet saliva forced sections of it into strange, bristled patterns at odds with the black-gold fire rippling along the length of his spine. A silver medallion flashed at his throat, hanging in the air. Dark whiskers curled up towards his muzzle, crinkled into a hellish snarl.

His ears flattened against his head and he rushed forward, dropping to four legs despite his shape. This lasted only until he leapt forward, arms reaching, intending to throttle the mad King.

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#8
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HAIL THE CONQUEROR WORM

WC (+3) hubbahubba


Warm blood pooled in his maw; Some his own, seeping there from various cuts in and around those vicious teeth. But most of it was Ezekiel's, and it slid down this throat and warmed the fire in his belly, like oil fed to machinery. His own wounds ached terribly, and Sirius was dimly aware of his growing exhaustion, stealing up on him once more. Ezekiel, too, had found his footing; He was crouched in a primal stance, and his snarl thrilled the mad King like no other. It was met with Sirius' own, a curdling thing that rattled his ribcage and hissed from between large incisors like the warning of a snake about to strike.


Each burst into movement simultaneously; Like slow motion, time stilled around them, and the forest held its baited breath as these two tyrants did collide. The thud of muscle meeting muscle echoed in the ripe silence, like the pulse that rushed in his ears, like the growl that tore from his throat and from Ezekiel's.


Two hands found purchase at his throat, and were firm there, instantly cutting off that maddened thrum from deep within him. At the same time, Sirius' superior form won the battle for gravity, and again he fell to pin the eagle, the fire lord. Like ying and yang their bodies curled, perfectly opposite, and yet perfectly the same. One huge paw came down on the man's collarbone, wicked claws dipping at his throat, pressing weight on the softness there.


The lack of air burned his lungs, and again and again his jaws snapped shut on the air, desperate to find purchase on the man who held him with trembling arms at bay. Each strained for muscular superiority, and yet, they were equal, and victory dimmed in each others eyes with every passing second. His chest heaved, desperate now for the cool life-giving oxygen, spittle flying as eyes burned white-hot into the other.


Suddenly, finally, with darkness blotting at his vision, Sirius ceased his struggling. From his wicked maw came a breathless cackle; The bloodlust in his eyes retreating as they glazed from exertion. The heavy paw at Ezekiel's throat pressed deep a moment more, claws nicking again where the pulse leapt there, before lifting its crushing weight.


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#9
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(300)



Again, he hit the ground. Again, the beast was upon him. His life was saved only by the hands wrapped around the monster’s throat, clenching and grasping with sharp claws and hungry desire. He could feel the pulse of blood somewhere under the thick mass of earth and sand colored fur. Greedily, his hands worked into that plush pelt, digging and prying for the hot life that rippled and quivered under his grasp. Somewhere in there was life—it was not the soul, oh no, but there was something real and something about that made him desperate. Even as a massive leg pressed against his chest, against his own throat, Ezekiel was showing all of his teeth and laughing, choking on blood, because for once in the miserable repetition of his life, he felt something.

Black pits and white-hot dwarf stars filled his vision. He saw but did not see the world collapsing around him. Ezekiel’s body trembled. Only, when all hope seemed lost, did he finally feel his dead man’s grip loosen, but they did not fall. They remained half-caught in the mess of mane, and on the ground, blood seeping from his mouth and wounds, Ezekiel let out a coughing, breathless laugh. He laughed even as he pulled Sirius to earth with him, arms wrapped around the bulging throat as it rippled and pulsed and changed under his grasp.

Blonde hair streaked with black earth and hot blood stuck to his face, fell crazed and unruly around his head. His chest heaved against the half-weight it bore, against the compressed muscle and lanky shape that had taken form within his arms. Still, with his arms around his rival, his enemy, his brother, he laughed a most terrible laugh and stared into a star-spotted sky with wide, clear eyes.

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#10
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HAIL THE CONQUEROR WORM

WC (+?) hubbahubba


His bones slid and changed, popped and cracked into a new form. The transition was smooth - Well practiced, like oiled machinery. But even so, it tired him further, pushed him dangerously into exhaustion, and when at last his form mirrored that of his bloodied companion, Sirius could do little but lay in the arms that enfolded him. His body rose and fell with the motions of the other man's chest, and Ezekiel's heartbeat welled in his ears, thundering to match the staccato of his own.


A wracked, coughing laughter echoed his maddened cackle, and they were two crazy men, naked in a field, laughing at the deep black sky as they wallowed in their own blood. Nothing in the world could have brought him a greater depth of satisfaction and relief as that instant, that moment. His hatred and adoration gave him a greater affinity for the Aquila than for any other man, and although this bond was strange and volatile, it was oddly comforting.


Finally, his head lifted, acidic eyes still watering with pain and laughter lingering on the sharp and bloodied features of his wildling kin. "I couldn't kill you," He rasped around a chuckle, "Think of how the women would mourn. You always were such a pretty little bastard." Yellow teeth, stained with blood, glinted at the other in a Cheshire grin.


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#11
[html]


I am going down with this ship



Even now, as his body ached and cried out through electrified nerves, he was happy. He was happy because this was real in a way that so many things had not been. There was a deep and terrible hole within him that caused true hunger, true desperation, but he was a man raised to ignore temptation. The faith of repression was one of his father. Ezekiel had thrown this away in the wilderness only to freely shackle himself to Inferni and now knew the burden of such faith. In this moment of absolute freedom, absolute impulse, he cared and wanted for nothing.

Amber eyes trailed to a set of pristine green, all acid and poison, and in that moment Ezekiel loved and hated his not-kin as he had loved and hated his own family. One hand still wet from blood lifted, lazily, and pushed a chunk of dark hair from Sirius’ face. It was an intimate, telling gesture.

“You talk too much,” he rasped, his voice thick and croaking like the very birds he looked after. Blood seeped freely from his arm, and he tasted iron drip down his throat. His head tilted back and returned to the ground, but his eyes closed and his breathing slowly, gradually, began to return to normal.

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