[M] I threw us into the flames
#1
[html]
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.
[/html]
[html]


(328)



He had told Enkiel to ride ahead and wait at the city. It had been a long ride west and he felt trepidation building, burning, in his chest. There was something unfamiliar about it and Ezekiel had no idea what to make of such a sensation. Deep in his gut a weight, cold and heavy, twisted. It had been easier to talk to Myrika. The drugs were wearing thin and so he smoked as he rode, lacing his body with opium, lacing it with cannabis, lacing it with the things he needed to chase away the aches and pains and the nausea that grew in his throat as the river was left behind. Below him the red horse shifted, moving at the easy trot that had carried them away from his kingdom and crown, and turned him back into a no one. The once Aquila liked this better.

The coyote slipped from Viggo’s back not half a mile from the borders. He hesitated a beat and then pulled off the bow, the quiver, and even the bag that carried all of his most treasured possessions. Viggo snorted and shoved his head towards the scarred man, and in that cross way he always spoke, argued with him. Ezekiel reassured him and sent him off with a promise of coming before dawn. He turned, unarmed, nude save for the necklace at his throat and the ring on his hand and traveled with the well-placed steps of a master woodsman.

He slowed only once, and that was to wash the scent of Inferni from his pelt in the smaller river. It was the last and final thing to do to cut his ties to the place. With only the scent of smoke and his own musk clinging to him, Ezekiel crossed the borders of the Thistle Kingdom on his own two legs and moved swiftly through the night. It was a singular animal he hunted, and a dangerous one at that.


<style>
#zeke-raven {
font-family:'times new roman', times, serif;
font-size:14px;
width:95%;
margin:0px auto;
line-height:18px;
}
#zeke-raven p {
text-indent:50px;
padding:0;
margin:10px 0;
}
#zeke-raven p.zeke-img {
text-align:center;
text-indent:0;
font-size:11px;
font-style:italic;
float:right; margin:5px;
}
#zeke-raven .txtooc {
text-align:left;
font-size:12px;
font-family:georgia, serif;
text-transform:none;
font-style:italic;
font-weight:normal; }
#zeke-raven .txtooc .word { font-weight:bold; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:normal;}
#zeke-raven b { letter-spacing:-.5px; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; }
#zeke-raven u { text-decoration: none; border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; }
#zeke-raven b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; }
</style>[/html]
#2
[html]

what brings us together is what tears us apart (+3)

The darkness was a balm, seeping into his flesh with cool, soothing fingers. Like a lover, the forest welcomed him, opened for him, and the King slipped into her waiting embrace without hesitation. Nothing stirred in the depths here; Nothing but ghostly shadows, sliding their wicked forms over gnarled and grasping branches. There was a hollow silence that filled the world, ebbing gently, like a pulse that could be felt but not heard. Overhead, the baleful eye of the moon watched on, grim and brooding as a bruising of clouds marred its pearly hue.


His claws scraped over twisting trunks, leaving small scratches there, leaving a scent familiar to all who dwelled therein. This world belonged to him, and he had snatched it from the clutches of winter and hardship, and impregnated it with value and power. But it had always been a beautiful land - Terrible, but beautiful. It would exist as such long after his bones had bleached in the winter, and were cradled deep in the dark earth.


The man's steps were silent. Something had stirred him from a pleasant slumber, one shared with the warmth of a golden-haired beauty and the two precious forms of his sons. Sirius Revlis had found his immortality, and he wore it well. His people all knew of the heir and blood born to the thistle King, and the kingdom had been blessed with his pleasant moods, so rare that they were as blistering and foreign as a Southern summer. But the brazen mirth did not linger in his heart, now; Something else dwelled there, an uncertain darkness, seeking the reason for the pulse of this night, searching for whatever thing called him out into the night and into the silence.


A glade was revealed to him, and the king emerged from the shadows. The moonlight spilled over his sumptuous pelt, and burned in his eyes, flames of purest peridot and most livid poison. Black nose twitched, and found a familiar unfamiliar. Sensing the burden of expectation, Sirius moved to the center of the glade, and there he sat - Eyes drifting closed, muscles still, till he was as a stone. Come to me, he thought, feeling the wind caress his frame.


Sirius Revlis
Hail the Conqueror Worm
<style>
.gsiri-01 {width:500px;margin:0px auto;text-align:justify;line-height:15px;font-family:Georgia, Helvetica, serifs;font-size:12px;letter-spacing:.75px;word-spacing:1px;}
.gsiri-01 .ooc {text-align:left;font-style:italic;font-size:11px;border-bottom:1px dotted;padding-bottom:5px;letter-spacing:.90px;}
.gsiri-01 p {text-indent:40px;padding:0px 0px 5px 0px;}
.gsiri-01 b {font-size:13px;letter-spacing:1px;}
.gsiri-01 .name {text-align:center;font-family: 'Permanent Marker', cursive;font-size:50px;line-height:20px;}
.gsiri-01 .quote {text-align:center;font-size:10px;padding-top:10px;letter-spacing:10px;text-transform:uppercase;}</style>[/html]
#3
[html]


(305)



Inferni had never been his true home. It had been a place spoken of, a place he knew only through memory and language. His home was a land of wild woods and deep winters, where only the strong survived. His home was isolation and the madness that came with such a thing. So in many ways, Inferni, though it had been his kingdom, was a strange land. He felt no kinship to that place now, and he had not since the time had returned. All of these things fell from his shoulders like a terrible weight, shed off in the grasping tendrils of blackened boughs and reaching thistles.

Yet because he was a man of such wilderness, and because it was familiar to him, he moved through this night and this landscape as if it was familiar. His pelt was not made for such night and each moonbeam glinted off of it like a flash of gold, glistening in the night. He might have been betrayed for this, but he did not fear the night’s betrayal. Ahead of him a prize waited, and Ezekiel trailed it patiently.

Ahead the trees parted. The coyote stilled to admire the King; he was a sight, dark and wild and still. A wolfish, greedy smile parted his jaws and allowed the tips of ivory teeth to gleam in the night. Without fear Ezekiel advanced from his hiding place, walking not with the bold and brash steps of a king, but the soft and well-worn pace of a man who had spent eons in the wilderness. His eyes glistened in the night like twin suns. “It takes all the fun out of this,” he said, his voice roughened as it had not been before the war and before the wound to his throat. “Chasing someone that wants to be caught.”

<style>
#zeke-raven {
font-family:'times new roman', times, serif;
font-size:14px;
width:95%;
margin:0px auto;
line-height:18px;
}
#zeke-raven p {
text-indent:50px;
padding:0;
margin:10px 0;
}
#zeke-raven p.zeke-img {
text-align:center;
text-indent:0;
font-size:11px;
font-style:italic;
float:right; margin:5px;
}
#zeke-raven .txtooc {
text-align:left;
font-size:12px;
font-family:georgia, serif;
text-transform:none;
font-style:italic;
font-weight:normal; }
#zeke-raven .txtooc .word { font-weight:bold; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:normal;}
#zeke-raven b { letter-spacing:-.5px; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; }
#zeke-raven u { text-decoration: none; border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; }
#zeke-raven b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; }
</style>[/html]
#4
[html]

what brings us together is what tears us apart (+)

For a while, he sat; But not too long. The wind whispered secrets in his large, dark ears, and filled him with a patience he did not understand. Behind his eyelids, the world was dark, but he saw it all with crystal clarity - Removing one sense only heightened the others, and the forest rustled, revealing creatures that moved and lived in the night. Their scents came to him, sweet and fragrant, teasing the hunter and begging him to take the bait. But he remained still, crosslegged, palms resting lightly on dark knees.


It was the voice that alerted him, and black lips twitched up in a smile. Slowly, the man's eyes opened, and revealed to him the creature he sought - By moonlight, Ezekiel was a gilded treasure, his pelt flowing with molten gold, his eyes as brilliant and luminescent as the sun. "Only prey runs from the hunt," Came the serpent's purr, his voice thick and syrupy, heightened by the silence of the dark forest.


He rose, slowly, a serpent uncoiling, and stood taller yet leaner than the other man. They were opposites that infinitely complemented each other; and yet they were the same, deep in their flesh and blood and bones. He held out his hand, seeking to clasp the other man's arm in an old greeting not yet forgotten to them. The wind whispered of change, and loss. "Why have you come here?" He was a rival male, scentless now, and in any circumstances that could be taken as a threat. But here, in this secret glade, it was mere happenstance - Something much larger than rivalry was afoot.


Sirius Revlis
Hail the Conqueror Worm
<style>
.gsiri-01 {width:500px;margin:0px auto;text-align:justify;line-height:15px;font-family:Georgia, Helvetica, serifs;font-size:12px;letter-spacing:.75px;word-spacing:1px;}
.gsiri-01 .ooc {text-align:left;font-style:italic;font-size:11px;border-bottom:1px dotted;padding-bottom:5px;letter-spacing:.90px;}
.gsiri-01 p {text-indent:40px;padding:0px 0px 5px 0px;}
.gsiri-01 b {font-size:13px;letter-spacing:1px;}
.gsiri-01 .name {text-align:center;font-family: 'Permanent Marker', cursive;font-size:50px;line-height:20px;}
.gsiri-01 .quote {text-align:center;font-size:10px;padding-top:10px;letter-spacing:10px;text-transform:uppercase;}</style>[/html]
#5
[html]




There was something so blatant and flippant about the way Sirius spoke that lit old flames deep in his belly, where they had been snuffed by the weight of Inferni’s rule. His chains were gone now, and with them, any need or desire to act or behave as his clansmen expected. So his toothy smile, all daggers and knives, glistened in the moonlight and welcomed the poison that his would-be brother offered. A hand the color of dried blood was grasped by dark mahogany and sand, and this warrior’s greeting was welcomed, and familiar. He had bid Myrika farewell with it. The fresh sting of that irony did not fall short on him, and his smile faltered long before the question came.

He stared up at Sirius, not challenging, not even demanding, but ultimately sad and ultimately sorry. The arm under his hand felt solid and warm and real, and he clung to it now as if he needed to be grounded. For a long time he said nothing and finally, as it had before, the words spilled from his mouth. “I’m leaving,” he said, and unlike when he had told Myrika, his voice waivered. “I don't belong there,” Ezekiel added, desperately, looking into the Thistle King’s eyes as if he might understand why when the others had not. Someone had to understand.

<style>
#zeke-raven {
font-family:'times new roman', times, serif;
font-size:14px;
width:95%;
margin:0px auto;
line-height:18px;
}
#zeke-raven p {
text-indent:50px;
padding:0;
margin:10px 0;
}
#zeke-raven p.zeke-img {
text-align:center;
text-indent:0;
font-size:11px;
font-style:italic;
float:right; margin:5px;
}
#zeke-raven .txtooc {
text-align:left;
font-size:12px;
font-family:georgia, serif;
text-transform:none;
font-style:italic;
font-weight:normal; }
#zeke-raven .txtooc .word { font-weight:bold; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:normal;}
#zeke-raven b { letter-spacing:-.5px; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; }
#zeke-raven u { text-decoration: none; border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; }
#zeke-raven b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; }
</style>[/html]
#6
[html]

what brings us together is what tears us apart (+3)

The contact was sharp, warm, firm. Narrowed pupils looked down to where rust melded with cream, and noted the blending of fur there, the strength within the grip. Electricity raced up his arm from the point of meshing, sizzling through veins in a way that was entirely feral; the thin blade of suspicion and trust, friend and foe. They were neither, for they were brothers without blood - Brothers in the darkness of the night.


The fierce grin worn by the other faded, and like a mirror, Sirius' own sharp smile was sheathed behind the grim line of black lips. The air about them stirred, feathers rustling as the eagle spoke. Two words; His grip on the other man's hand tightened, large, sharp claws digging into flesh but not breaking skin, not yet. The scent of Ezekiel's blood would have driven him to madness. Somewhere within, a scar not fully sealed by time was beginning to tear back open, and the sickness of grief threatened to bubble up into his acidic gaze. "You would leave me here?" Came the harsh rasp of his voice, no longer decorated with silky caramel, but rough with quiet emotion, "You would feed me alone to these fools?" A sharp bitterness filled his mouth, lingered like venom on his tongue, and spurned by it, Sirius' other hand rose to grab the golden male's arm.


For a moment, their gazes were locked, and Sirius saw the hopeless despair within the other, saw an echo of a man that he could have become. Civility was drowning Gabrielson, choking him in a way that the serpent was immune to. But he understood, and with that understanding came the true madness. "Stay," He snarled, denying the full meaning of the other's words, "This land is freer than the one you owned. Stay here, be my-" Be his what? The thistle king's teeth flashed, clamping shut around the words that should not have come. Ezekiel could never be his second, his beta - They were both kings, both unable to bow head to the other. A savage desperation began to flood him as Sirius was hit with total realization. He was going to lose the only other creature on this earth to truly understand him.


Sirius Revlis
Hail the Conqueror Worm
<style>
.gsiri-01 {width:500px;margin:0px auto;text-align:justify;line-height:15px;font-family:Georgia, Helvetica, serifs;font-size:12px;letter-spacing:.75px;word-spacing:1px;}
.gsiri-01 .ooc {text-align:left;font-style:italic;font-size:11px;border-bottom:1px dotted;padding-bottom:5px;letter-spacing:.90px;}
.gsiri-01 p {text-indent:40px;padding:0px 0px 5px 0px;}
.gsiri-01 b {font-size:13px;letter-spacing:1px;}
.gsiri-01 .name {text-align:center;font-family: 'Permanent Marker', cursive;font-size:50px;line-height:20px;}
.gsiri-01 .quote {text-align:center;font-size:10px;padding-top:10px;letter-spacing:10px;text-transform:uppercase;}</style>[/html]
#7
[html]


I regret nothing.



The pressure around his arm tightened. Ezekiel was glad for it. He was glad for the pain. He wanted the pain. He wanted someone to be angry with him. Hell, he was angry at himself. A deep and terrible part of his psyche heard everything that went unsaid and threw it back at him. Lucifer was doubt, after all, and the devil was a part of all of them for this reason. His arm began to tremble because it wasn’t enough and it would never be enough. Punishment suited deserters and traitors and the faithless, and Ezekiel, whose blood was thick with the lines of Inferni, was a man turning his back on his own legacy.

Both of his arms were pulled taunt and Ezekiel gave into the motion, letting them go limp. He stared into the eyes of the wood-colored king, seeing himself, seeing everything he was not, and a deep and terrible resentment twisted in his gut. It was unfair. Sirius had succeeded where he had not. He had done what Ezekiel could not, would not do, and some part of him saw this as a defeat.

Then came the demand. Ezekiel’s jaw dropped at the words, and his eyes widened in the dark. Dumbstruck, he simply stared into Sirius’ eyes and saw that there was no lie. His hands began to tremble. “I can’t,” he said, half-whispered. “I can’t,” he repeated, louder, his voice raw.

<style>
#zeke-raven {
font-family:'times new roman', times, serif;
font-size:14px;
width:95%;
margin:0px auto;
line-height:18px;
}
#zeke-raven p {
text-indent:50px;
padding:0;
margin:10px 0;
}
#zeke-raven p.zeke-img {
text-align:center;
text-indent:0;
font-size:11px;
font-style:italic;
float:right; margin:5px;
}
#zeke-raven .txtooc {
text-align:left;
font-size:12px;
font-family:georgia, serif;
text-transform:none;
font-style:italic;
font-weight:normal; }
#zeke-raven .txtooc .word { font-weight:bold; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:normal;}
#zeke-raven b { letter-spacing:-.5px; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; }
#zeke-raven u { text-decoration: none; border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; }
#zeke-raven b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; }
</style>[/html]
#8
[html]


The man's face was changing, shock and shame pooling within those eyes of molten gold, and Sirius' stomach clenched painfully, enough that he shuddered, enough that his yellow teeth flashed and his brows furrowed tightly. Ezekiel was going limp, allowing himself to be overcome - There was no challenge, no spark of fight within the handsome planes of the other man's features. There was nothing for the serpent to hook his fangs into, nothing to light the fire of argument. There was nothing.


Ezekiel was leaving.


He spoke, a short denial, a harsh rejection. And Sirius reeled back, his open palm flinging through the air to make a harsh contact with that hollow, empty face. Pain radiated up his wrist, hot raw pain, but it was nothing compared to the bile that rose in his throat, the rusty taste of betrayal that filled his mouth. The force of the blow had snapped Ezekiel's head to the side, but the serpent gave no time for that listless body to find retaliation, instead grabbing the man by the shoulders and shaking him, hard. "Don't you DARE," The beast snarled, spittle flying from his jaws, eyes blistering with hatred. "Don't you DARE leave me alone!" For here had always been comfort - Another madman clothed in the disguise of normalcy, mortality. His foundations had shifted, to be supported by this, supported by the knowledge that he was not so terribly lonely. Larkspur had taken a portion of this stability with him to his grave, and the remainder trembled now.


Sirius wasn't aware of when he had stopped shaking Ezekiel, and had instead began crushing the other to his chest, arms wrapped about him tightly in a rib-cracking hug. "Don't you dare," He hissed again, blood running hotly through silver veins.


Sirius Revlis
Hail the Conqueror Worm
<style>
.gsiri-01 {width:500px;margin:0px auto;text-align:justify;line-height:15px;font-family:Georgia, Helvetica, serifs;font-size:12px;letter-spacing:.75px;word-spacing:1px;}
.gsiri-01 .ooc {text-align:left;font-style:italic;font-size:11px;border-bottom:1px dotted;padding-bottom:5px;letter-spacing:.90px;}
.gsiri-01 p {text-indent:40px;padding:0px 0px 5px 0px;}
.gsiri-01 b {font-size:13px;letter-spacing:1px;}
.gsiri-01 .name {text-align:center;font-family: 'Permanent Marker', cursive;font-size:50px;line-height:20px;}
.gsiri-01 .quote {text-align:center;font-size:10px;padding-top:10px;letter-spacing:10px;text-transform:uppercase;}</style>[/html]
#9
[html]


this thread.



After so long, even this felt hollow. Something in the air between them rippled and shattered as a hand flew down and struck him hard enough that his vision blacked out for an instant. He was aware of the claws digging into his arms, of the hot rage radiating from Sirius’ body, and under a haze of blonde-white hair he saw a monster that looked so familiar to him now, even more then he had moments ago. This was what they were. Savages. Monsters. They were the cannibal ghosts that he still saw, chasing him. There were such terrible things in the woods besides eagles; there were serpents, and tigers, and stags.

Then suddenly his lungs were filled with warm air and the raw, potent musk of the Thistle King. Ezekiel felt his ribs ache from the force of the embrace and a part of him welcomed that. It was enough that his face broke into an honest smile, and he began to laugh, breathlessly, into the thick pelt and the sinewy muscles. He laughed because he didn’t know what else to say, or do, and both of his hands reached up beyond the body pressed against his own. One dug sharply into the strong back and the other found its home in the thick, tousled hair of the dark coyote. Ezekiel forced his head back and stared into his eyes, laughing still, and felt his heart rip asunder.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and meant it. He knew exactly what he was leaving and he knew that this man, alone among his peers, would suffer. There was only so much pretense that one could survive. Madness was black and thick and part of them, like Legion, part of them, like their legacy and their lineage, and it always would be. They had fallen to each other in those times of doubt and strife and now, they would be alone. They would be with others but somehow always alone. “I’m not your subject, Thistle King,” he said lowly. “I don’t answer to you.”

And he smiled.

<style>
#zeke-raven {
font-family:'times new roman', times, serif;
font-size:14px;
width:95%;
margin:0px auto;
line-height:18px;
}
#zeke-raven p {
text-indent:50px;
padding:0;
margin:10px 0;
}
#zeke-raven p.zeke-img {
text-align:center;
text-indent:0;
font-size:11px;
font-style:italic;
float:right; margin:5px;
}
#zeke-raven .txtooc {
text-align:left;
font-size:12px;
font-family:georgia, serif;
text-transform:none;
font-style:italic;
font-weight:normal; }
#zeke-raven .txtooc .word { font-weight:bold; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:normal;}
#zeke-raven b { letter-spacing:-.5px; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; }
#zeke-raven u { text-decoration: none; border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; }
#zeke-raven b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; }
</style>[/html]
#10
[html]


Hands crept up his spine, hands that could tear a man apart, could plunge a dagger or loose an arrow. Hands that knew the embrace of death. His skin shivered in response, body cresting its wave of anger and sorrow, black lips writhing as rust-hued fingers tangled in his dark raven locks.


A muffled sound arose from the other, hot breath and noise seeping into the cream fur of his chest and throat, and Sirius hated it. Hated such a sound. His grasp was unrelenting, claws digging into the hot flesh of the other man, body seeking to claim and absorb him. The eagle moved with a force of his own, and Sirius' head was pulled back by his hair, releasing the other man's face to this dark nighttime world.


I'm sorry. Unable to resist, Sirius flinched; His eyes darting shut for a moment, black lips peeling up, tall ears flattening. This was worse than a punch, worse than a bite, worse than any physical wound the other could have given. This refusal to engage, inability to take the bait that the serpent offered. They could fight, and be filled with mad glee from their physical pain and exhaustion - So evenly matched were they, that they could fight for all eternity, and the world would spin around them and leave them well alone.


But this time, Ezekiel would not fight him. He blinked rapidly, trying not to hold that transfixing gaze, every muscle rebelling as he remained tensed and brutally locked. But the next words the golden son spoke were his undoing, and suddenly the man's rigid fury abated, pulled back out with the tide. All that was left was the glaze of shock - Like an amputee still feeling for the limb that had been lost, Sirius reached with his mind, reached out into the world and beyond, and knew that he was now truly alone.


A strange spasm made his tall, lean frame twitch, claws releasing their biting hold on the other, limbs sliding until cream hands and elegant fingers gently framed that terrible, smiling face. "Così sia," He muttered, claws dipping into locks of soft, light gold, losing themselves there. "You have damned us both," and the King leaned in, brushing his muzzle against the other's.



Sirius Revlis
Hail the Conqueror Worm
<style>
.gsiri-01 {width:500px;margin:0px auto;text-align:justify;line-height:15px;font-family:Georgia, Helvetica, serifs;font-size:12px;letter-spacing:.75px;word-spacing:1px;}
.gsiri-01 .ooc {text-align:left;font-style:italic;font-size:11px;border-bottom:1px dotted;padding-bottom:5px;letter-spacing:.90px;}
.gsiri-01 p {text-indent:40px;padding:0px 0px 5px 0px;}
.gsiri-01 b {font-size:13px;letter-spacing:1px;}
.gsiri-01 .name {text-align:center;font-family: 'Permanent Marker', cursive;font-size:50px;line-height:20px;}
.gsiri-01 .quote {text-align:center;font-size:10px;padding-top:10px;letter-spacing:10px;text-transform:uppercase;}</style>[/html]
#11
[html]


(362) go on without me.



Before, and during the war, Ezekiel would have ripped Sirius’ still-beating heart from his chest. He would have dug his hands into his belly and found whatever blackened part of his soul remained and swallowed it. There was no fight left in him—he had given it all in that last great battle, when a sword had found home in his chest, when a shield had crushed his ribs under that madman’s weight. Sirius had saved his life when he had driven his blade deep between the wolf’s shoulders. Maybe that was why he had come to him; he could have fled, silently, into the night and instead he was here. He was looking for some sort of punishment, some answer, someone to tell him that he was wrong and selfish and confirm everything he already knew.

He knew, deeper than this, that nothing would change his mind.

The rage left Sirius and a lesser, though still brilliant, fire took its place. Ezekiel saw but did not comprehend it at first for what it was. Then, gradually, as he felt hands around his face and in his hair he realized what he should have known a long time ago. His eyes closed and he leaned into the warmth of the body next to his. He began to laugh again, but the laugh died in his throat in a strangled, choking sob.

The end of the world came in a quiet flood, and it sought to bury him.

Ezekiel clung to Sirius because he could not control his body anymore. Great, heaving sobs escaped him as his legs gave out under him. There should have been words. There should have been something he could have said, something he could have done, but he didn’t know what was left to be said. His body spoke in ways he could not, betraying him as it trembled and held onto the only real thing it still believed in. Beyond duty, beyond family, beyond the demons, beyond even God, he believed only in what was real and it was this man, now, this man who he was betraying even now as he called upon him for strength.

<style>
#zeke-raven {
font-family:'times new roman', times, serif;
font-size:14px;
width:95%;
margin:0px auto;
line-height:18px;
}
#zeke-raven p {
text-indent:50px;
padding:0;
margin:10px 0;
}
#zeke-raven p.zeke-img {
text-align:center;
text-indent:0;
font-size:11px;
font-style:italic;
float:right; margin:5px;
}
#zeke-raven .txtooc {
text-align:left;
font-size:12px;
font-family:georgia, serif;
text-transform:none;
font-style:italic;
font-weight:normal; }
#zeke-raven .txtooc .word { font-weight:bold; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:normal;}
#zeke-raven b { letter-spacing:-.5px; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; }
#zeke-raven u { text-decoration: none; border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; }
#zeke-raven b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; }
</style>[/html]
#12
[html]


They had bonded through blood - Once foes, now more, and less, than that. Sirius could comprehend the depth of his feelings, for they bloomed before him in obvious colors, so stark and brilliant that he couldn't imagine having never seen them, couldn't imagine his bleak winter world without them. Such sensory pain and pleasure entwined, until the man couldn't understand why it had taken them so long, why it had never been this way before. But the question was answered by its own silence - Only now, in the wake of this loss and this betrayal, could they be such a thing, could they see such a splendid hue.


He had buried a dagger deep in a man's back for this. Kingslayer. Had watched the red stain his hands and chest, stain his vision with the fear that perhaps another life had been stolen from his grasp. But it had not - The eagle had lived through that battle, had survived the war, and they had crept away to their dark and secret places to lick clean the wounds that festered inside and out.


But Ezekiel had never healed. Perhaps he could never heal. In his eyes festered the infection still, the infection of battle and bloodshed, the terrible disease of the beast. He could not return to the crown he had once held, could not fit his face back into the mask that had been torn off. Sirius was more sinuous than that, and knew adaptation as survival, knew cunning as life. They were the same, and yet, eternally different.


The man crumbled against him, and as the sobs wracked his body, Sirius held him close, shared his warmth. His iron muscles supported the weight of the wanderer, allowing himself to slide to the ground, to buffer that form until both knelt on the dark earth, heads resting against one another. The broken man was slumped, and still his body craved it, still his blood rushed for it. A hand that lingered on one cheek traced a path over his throat, the pulse there, down to rest above his heart. The touch was warm, for although reptilian, he was a man, and a mortal.


"Stay," He said again, a soft voice that whispered like the wind, soothed and hissed and rattled in his chest. "Just one night more, stay with me." He could ask no more, and not again, for the words stuck like bones in his throat, and he was moving again to pin the other man's body against the ground with his own.



Sirius Revlis
Hail the Conqueror Worm
<style>
.gsiri-01 {width:500px;margin:0px auto;text-align:justify;line-height:15px;font-family:Georgia, Helvetica, serifs;font-size:12px;letter-spacing:.75px;word-spacing:1px;}
.gsiri-01 .ooc {text-align:left;font-style:italic;font-size:11px;border-bottom:1px dotted;padding-bottom:5px;letter-spacing:.90px;}
.gsiri-01 p {text-indent:40px;padding:0px 0px 5px 0px;}
.gsiri-01 b {font-size:13px;letter-spacing:1px;}
.gsiri-01 .name {text-align:center;font-family: 'Permanent Marker', cursive;font-size:50px;line-height:20px;}
.gsiri-01 .quote {text-align:center;font-size:10px;padding-top:10px;letter-spacing:10px;text-transform:uppercase;}</style>[/html]
#13
[html]


(404) that just happened. quote is from Paradise Lost by Milton.



Piece by piece, he was stripped down to his core. Away fell obligations, away fell needs and demands, and with his armor and his chains gone, the proud eagle was made mortal. Ezekiel had suffered great wounds long ago by another man, and that first wound—that ultimate and terrible fear of death—it had been forced into him by way of a demon king, crow-wolf, father of a woman who served as slave unto these very lands. He had looked, as a boy, to others to guide him, to save him. Now as a man he had nowhere to turn but inward, and inside of him lingered a deep and terrible chaos made of darkest night and hungry, burning eyes.

Hell was Inferni, and now that he was free of it, Ezekiel walked with the damned in Purgatory. The impure suffered and relived their sins, waiting, silent, until the angels and their Lord saw fit to allow them into the arms of the divine. Once, he believed he lived with grace. If he had been holy then, he had fallen. He didn’t feel holy anymore. He just felt hollow.

Yet it was that damned self control that still fought him, still refused complete surrender. The savage would not accept anything less. While he felt something solid against his own head, and another, moving to his heart, his own traitor hand moved like a viper. It struck his own face sharply, hard enough that the sobs were cut off in a breath of hot air. He panted, eyes wide, muzzle twitching in a half-snarl, and that madness held him completely for a moment more as his body sank, with some resistance, to the floor. The snarl-smile on his face did not hide the sickness in his eyes, which reflected the moonlight and glowed in the dark under his white-blonde hair.

His back arched up against Sirius and he twisted his body, untangled his legs, allowed himself to be pinned even as his mouth showed his teeth and tongue. There was a fight within him still. There was hate in his eyes, but not for Sirius. Even now, he hated himself for this. He hated himself for the surrender and the knowledge of what he was about to do.

Abashed the devil stood,” his voice came, low and throaty. His fingers twisted themselves into dark tendrils, needy, demanding. “, and felt how awful goodness is.

<style>
#zeke-raven {
font-family:'times new roman', times, serif;
font-size:14px;
width:95%;
margin:0px auto;
line-height:18px;
}
#zeke-raven p {
text-indent:50px;
padding:0;
margin:10px 0;
}
#zeke-raven p.zeke-img {
text-align:center;
text-indent:0;
font-size:11px;
font-style:italic;
float:right; margin:5px;
}
#zeke-raven .txtooc {
text-align:left;
font-size:12px;
font-family:georgia, serif;
text-transform:none;
font-style:italic;
font-weight:normal; }
#zeke-raven .txtooc .word { font-weight:bold; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:normal;}
#zeke-raven b { letter-spacing:-.5px; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; }
#zeke-raven u { text-decoration: none; border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; }
#zeke-raven b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; }
</style>[/html]
#14
[html]


There was a burning brand that singed him, fingers that fell against flesh and left a permanent mark sizzled deep within his consciousness. It was not an insignia of claiming, nor of ownership, but the kind of wound left by a scar that told a specific story. It was written on the slate of his pages, written that the beast had found a challenger to meet him on every level, and that they two would be united by this immortality until distance and loss tore them apart.


The other's glittering pearl teeth were met by the yellow glint of his own, a vapid half-snarl, filled with a terrible menace and a terrible longing. Two cages, holding within them the words and the sentiments expressed by mere mortals when such kindred spirits met; They were not fools for such wanton words, though, not poets spewing plastic prose at one another. Their reality was in the glimmer of saliva as it strung between deadly knives, the ivory glitter of an eyeball as it caught the sheen of the fluorescent moon.


Ezekiel arched against him, and the serpent hissed, breath whistling from his clenched maw. Narrowed pupils were lost to the mass of acidic green that swamped them, two glowing pinpoints of poisonous glory in the deep darkness of this night. Cream palms placed themselves on either side of the golden man's head, wicked claws digging deep into the softly rotten earth, burying themselves there so that they might refrain from burying in heated, bloodied flesh. The eagle's digits twisted in the dark locks of raven that spilled from his regal crown, spilled across the upturned, snarling face of the other as the space between them shrank.


His dark words were all that were required, all that the beast needed to allow himself to roam. In this state of pseudo dominance, his hands moved to possess the frame below, claws raking hungrily over muscles planes haloed by golden fur. "Tu sei mia, questa notte" The growl ebbed lowly from tightened jaw, maw moving that it could breath such heated words into the Eagle's waiting hark, "And I yours." Teeth grasped the thin skin and cartilage there, gave a demanding tug.



Sirius Revlis
Hail the Conqueror Worm
<style>
.gsiri-01 {width:500px;margin:0px auto;text-align:justify;line-height:15px;font-family:Georgia, Helvetica, serifs;font-size:12px;letter-spacing:.75px;word-spacing:1px;}
.gsiri-01 .ooc {text-align:left;font-style:italic;font-size:11px;border-bottom:1px dotted;padding-bottom:5px;letter-spacing:.90px;}
.gsiri-01 p {text-indent:40px;padding:0px 0px 5px 0px;}
.gsiri-01 b {font-size:13px;letter-spacing:1px;}
.gsiri-01 .name {text-align:center;font-family: 'Permanent Marker', cursive;font-size:50px;line-height:20px;}
.gsiri-01 .quote {text-align:center;font-size:10px;padding-top:10px;letter-spacing:10px;text-transform:uppercase;}</style>[/html]
#15
[html]


boyfraaaaaands.



His body stiffened, instinctively, against the probing fingers. So rare was it to know touch in this way; Ezekiel spoke with his body, with his hands, and he felt strands of white-hot electricity jolt between them. Yet as he lay, back against the cold earth, his eyes were certain and solemn and twin coals hollowed out by hell-fire. So while he heard words—some foreign tongue, something he recognized as somehow familiar—it was his body that truly listened.

Teeth sunk into his neck, through the straw colored fur, down to the skin that held taunt. It was not meant to kill. If Sirius had meant to kill him, he would have. Amber eyes closed under his sunbleached hair and Ezekiel leaned his muzzle against the lean, coyote face of his companion (brother? Lover?) and breathed out hot air. His lungs felt heavy.

Then something in him rebelled, as was nature, and his head snaked forward, his nose digging under the thick hair, till his teeth found hold along the collarbone. They sunk in, harder than he had perhaps intended, and a growling demand reverberated through his chest. His hands did not move, yet obedient to a lifetime of repression and doubt. The hot, hard thing between his legs was more traitorous and his hips arched up, pressing it against Sirius’ groin.

<style>
#zeke-raven {
font-family:'times new roman', times, serif;
font-size:14px;
width:95%;
margin:0px auto;
line-height:18px;
}
#zeke-raven p {
text-indent:50px;
padding:0;
margin:10px 0;
}
#zeke-raven p.zeke-img {
text-align:center;
text-indent:0;
font-size:11px;
font-style:italic;
float:right; margin:5px;
}
#zeke-raven .txtooc {
text-align:left;
font-size:12px;
font-family:georgia, serif;
text-transform:none;
font-style:italic;
font-weight:normal; }
#zeke-raven .txtooc .word { font-weight:bold; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:normal;}
#zeke-raven b { letter-spacing:-.5px; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; }
#zeke-raven u { text-decoration: none; border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; }
#zeke-raven b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; }
</style>[/html]
#16
[html]


There was a pulse beneath his fangs, beneath the flesh and fur that filled his starving mouth. Delicately, a salmon tongue traced the area within, feeling and knowing that pulse as it quickened its staccato beat. A muzzle moved to rest against him, deceptively calm and submissive, alarmingly desirable to the mocha brute and the flames of desperation that clawed viciously at his insides. Then, suddenly, the frame beneath him bucked again, and that mild caress unleashed a sudden strike at the sensitive line of his collar.


A snarl ebbed from the male as an overpowering surge of lust ripped through him, shedding any remnants of self control. His own bite retreated, all senses locked onto the piercing sensation as the eagle's teeth dug deeper into craven, wicked flesh. His hands gripped tighter to the tense frame beneath, the snarl ending in a gurgled groan as impatient hips arched up against his own. Hellflames raced through his veins, and he shifted his weight to better pin the other man, straddling him with long dark legs.


Unable to refrain, one hand snaked down the golden male's belly, infinitely pleased by the softness of the hair there. It grew lower, and found the source of his heated need; By now such a thing was accompanied by his own, and every movement was a lightning bolt of pleasure to thrill and burn the system.


Digits found what they wanted, wrapped about it in gleeful abandon, and his yellowed teeth glittered painfully bright in the darkness.



Sirius Revlis
Hail the Conqueror Worm
<style>
.gsiri-01 {width:500px;margin:0px auto;text-align:justify;line-height:15px;font-family:Georgia, Helvetica, serifs;font-size:12px;letter-spacing:.75px;word-spacing:1px;}
.gsiri-01 .ooc {text-align:left;font-style:italic;font-size:11px;border-bottom:1px dotted;padding-bottom:5px;letter-spacing:.90px;}
.gsiri-01 p {text-indent:40px;padding:0px 0px 5px 0px;}
.gsiri-01 b {font-size:13px;letter-spacing:1px;}
.gsiri-01 .name {text-align:center;font-family: 'Permanent Marker', cursive;font-size:50px;line-height:20px;}
.gsiri-01 .quote {text-align:center;font-size:10px;padding-top:10px;letter-spacing:10px;text-transform:uppercase;}</style>[/html]
#17
[html]


CHILDREN STOP READING THIS IS PORNOGRAPHY also because I promised.



There was a shift even as he tasted iron on his tongue. He was sprawled on the ground, and one of those hands came down like a shackle. Ezekiel growled deeply; this was what he needed. Someone had to stop him. Someone had to grab control because he could not. This was forbidden. This was everything that he knew to be wrong; this was surrender, and submission, and sin.

His entire body stiffened at the sensation of strong, needy fingers. Then the grip became a vice around the length of his cock, hard and rough. He sucked in a breath of night air in a gasp, choked on the scent and taste of Sirius’ hair (salt, smoke, fern, marsh, musk). Ezekiel’s hips jerked upward as heat spread through the length of his groin, blinding, silencing. A throaty moan escaped his throat as his shoulders gave way and he writhed against the cool grass below him.

Both eyes snapped open, wide, fierce and terrible. He showed his teeth, half-mad, head lolling. “Stop fucking around,” he rumbled, and writhed as the King acquiesced.


<style>
#zeke-raven {
font-family:'times new roman', times, serif;
font-size:14px;
width:95%;
margin:0px auto;
line-height:18px;
}
#zeke-raven p {
text-indent:50px;
padding:0;
margin:10px 0;
}
#zeke-raven p.zeke-img {
text-align:center;
text-indent:0;
font-size:11px;
font-style:italic;
float:right; margin:5px;
}
#zeke-raven .txtooc {
text-align:left;
font-size:12px;
font-family:georgia, serif;
text-transform:none;
font-style:italic;
font-weight:normal; }
#zeke-raven .txtooc .word { font-weight:bold; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:normal;}
#zeke-raven b { letter-spacing:-.5px; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; }
#zeke-raven u { text-decoration: none; border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; }
#zeke-raven b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; }
</style>[/html]
#18
[html]


Temptation had always been in the realm of Sirius Revlis. As a youth, he had reveled in it, dipped his toes in the sumptuous rivers of life, lived freely and richly on the bounties of decadence that London had offered. But such sinful living had come at a price - The man had felt himself become detached, a creature merely floating atop the drifts and currents of life, spinning out of control and tossed by situations not of his design.


And so he had learned to control it - Control the desires, the passions. So tightly had he grasped, that his flesh and fur had turned to scales, and the joy to poison in his gut. He had become the serpent, and found power in the luring of others to temptation, as Eve to the apple. This was how he could master them, for in their temptation they were weak, they were manipulable.


But in mastering this, a part of him had forgotten - Forgotten the simple, maniacal pleasure of release, of freeing the beast and allowing it to live as it had always been created to live; Driven by these simple urges and desires. He had met Ezekiel and known that here, too, was a beast who had not forgotten what the dark earth had made him for, what the truth in hot blood and frenzied passion was.


Fingers stilled on the golden eagle's throbbing manhood as his hips jerked, that cruel smile growing wider to the words that poured forth - Commanding, enraptured. Luminous eyes held his own, and they burned brighter than a dying son, brighter than such terrible violent light. Again his warm palm moved, stroking, thrilling, teasing; But his own need was great, now, building tensely within his belly until it almost pained him.


With a snarl, Sirius relinquished his hold, moving instead to grab the man's hips. The movement was rough, filled with need rather than tenderness - The love between them had no humane basis, but was as wild as it was reckless. His mouth moved again to the eagle's neck, black nose nuzzling, jaws parting to grasp the vulnerable flesh between them. Then, in a display of strength, he hoisted the other male up, holding Zeke above his own throbbing need. The muscles in his arms shivered and rippled, his entire body tensed, and a single pleading whine was voiced into the other's neck; A final permission being asked.



Sirius Revlis
Hail the Conqueror Worm
<style>
.gsiri-01 {width:500px;margin:0px auto;text-align:justify;line-height:15px;font-family:Georgia, Helvetica, serifs;font-size:12px;letter-spacing:.75px;word-spacing:1px;}
.gsiri-01 .ooc {text-align:left;font-style:italic;font-size:11px;border-bottom:1px dotted;padding-bottom:5px;letter-spacing:.90px;}
.gsiri-01 p {text-indent:40px;padding:0px 0px 5px 0px;}
.gsiri-01 b {font-size:13px;letter-spacing:1px;}
.gsiri-01 .name {text-align:center;font-family: 'Permanent Marker', cursive;font-size:50px;line-height:20px;}
.gsiri-01 .quote {text-align:center;font-size:10px;padding-top:10px;letter-spacing:10px;text-transform:uppercase;}</style>[/html]
#19
[html]


you creeps.



In the ways of wild things, Ezekiel knew that the base drive to mate was to make children. He had assessed women before, in a detatched, calculating way and considered them to be options. Kastra, gruff and coarse, had been the only one he truly felt comfortable around. She had gone to Scintilla, now, and he did not see the path to the south as one for him to walk. He could not face them and lie, as he lied before, as he lied to his father, because his world was based on the Word and everything that was happening now was wrong.

His mind thought these things, but it burned under the heat of the dark horse, the tempter, the Fallen One. Ezekiel’s eyes rolled back in his head and his head twisted, one eye wide and the other screwed shut. He reached a hand up to the thick mass of fur along the lean, lanky body above him. Lucifer, he mouthed, smiling, manic. This was his final temptation; this was his last and most terrible trial.

The heat in his groin was nearly unbearable then, and Ezekiel was on the brink when he felt cool air rush to fill the warmth left by Sirius’ vacant hand. He felt nails at his sides and his legs tensed, but it was short-lived. Hot air rushed into his lungs and he breathed in all the black and all the wickedness pouring from Sirius’ mouth. He breathed in his marshland scent. Teeth closed around his throat, dominating, terrifying. He thought to his first fight and felt another hot rush of desire turn his mind to white, mindless desire.

One leg hooked around the dark coyote’s waist, pulling him, and Ezekiel pressed against the hard, damp pressure near the base of his tail. He twisted his head and closed his teeth around one large, torn ear, and tugged earnestly.


<style>
#zeke-raven {
font-family:'times new roman', times, serif;
font-size:14px;
width:95%;
margin:0px auto;
line-height:18px;
}
#zeke-raven p {
text-indent:50px;
padding:0;
margin:10px 0;
}
#zeke-raven p.zeke-img {
text-align:center;
text-indent:0;
font-size:11px;
font-style:italic;
float:right; margin:5px;
}
#zeke-raven .txtooc {
text-align:left;
font-size:12px;
font-family:georgia, serif;
text-transform:none;
font-style:italic;
font-weight:normal; }
#zeke-raven .txtooc .word { font-weight:bold; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:normal;}
#zeke-raven b { letter-spacing:-.5px; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; }
#zeke-raven u { text-decoration: none; border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; }
#zeke-raven b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; }
</style>[/html]
#20
[html]


He had known many women, known them intimately - Known their bodies, the scorching heat of their lusts, the simmering, bitter disappointment in fine features when he flicked them a brassy coin and dissipated back out into the cold embrace of the nighttime. This was how he had procured his lusts; Between thighs soft and supple, against a cushion of breasts. He had known men with harder tastes, a wanton craving for the flesh of their own gender, and while he had not partaken of such pleasures within his own youth, this was not something the snake had condemned. Sex was without gender, in itself an act of dominance or submission, of passion and control. He, the contaminated and the condemned, had never been taught by a righteous god that man did not lay with man, that redemption could only be found in a woman's most vulnerable place.


He fucked without a strict desire for femininity, and had stuck to women for the fiscal purpose that they seemed much more plentiful as whores, much cheaper than their male counterparts, much better at acting like they had a soul left to share within their hot, heady flesh.


Thus, while sinful hellfire curdled the blood of the golden eagle, Sirius was left to ravage without guilt, without the impending horror of a man set to re-define himself, to break every bone of his consciousness and wait for it to reset. So, too, was he blissfully unaware of the wrath of Gabrielson's gods, the torture that they would inflict upon his lover's withered morals. He knew only what he wanted, what he craved, what he needed so desperately that he would beg for it; Whine for it, writhe his hips in craven restraint until that leg hooked about him, and ivory teeth tugged sharply against one large, quivering audit.


He could wait no longer, and with a harsh grunt, pulled Ezekiel down and onto him. The pleasure was unbelievable - exquisite, unlike any he had ever known, paling all others that had come before, and souring all that were yet to come. Luminous eyes were shut tightly, ears folded to a crown of tumbling raven locks, and he was still; A statue of granite muscles, reveling in this glorious new sensation, wicked claws biting into the muscular hips of the golden princeling. This was more decadent than all the banquets of heaven; the serpent had claimed his prize.


The pleasure was abating, awakening a new desire, the need to move, to thrust, to impale again the golden man's warm flesh. Unable and unwilling to resist it, he moved his hips, slowly at first, eyes re-opening so that they could seek, with feverish intensity, the emotions on his lover's face.



Sirius Revlis
Hail the Conqueror Worm
<style>
.gsiri-01 {width:500px;margin:0px auto;text-align:justify;line-height:15px;font-family:Georgia, Helvetica, serifs;font-size:12px;letter-spacing:.75px;word-spacing:1px;}
.gsiri-01 .ooc {text-align:left;font-style:italic;font-size:11px;border-bottom:1px dotted;padding-bottom:5px;letter-spacing:.90px;}
.gsiri-01 p {text-indent:40px;padding:0px 0px 5px 0px;}
.gsiri-01 b {font-size:13px;letter-spacing:1px;}
.gsiri-01 .name {text-align:center;font-family: 'Permanent Marker', cursive;font-size:50px;line-height:20px;}
.gsiri-01 .quote {text-align:center;font-size:10px;padding-top:10px;letter-spacing:10px;text-transform:uppercase;}</style>[/html]


Forum Jump: