[html]
style="background-image: url(http://i43.tinypic.com/bz8ra.png); width: 450px; height: 500px; z-index: 1; line-height: 10px;">
style="padding: 0px; position: relative; right: 80px; top: 66px; width: 220px; height: 360px; z-index: 2; overflow: auto;">
I needed another thread for Corvus, but I’m leaving this one open (my first AW thread, yay~). I’m still trying to get back into the ‘mood’ of playing him, so let’s just see where this takes us, ^=^;; Oh, and he’s in his Secui form.
500+
HEART OF DARKNESS
Twilight. Dawn breathed faintly, weakly, upon the horizon. The light flickered there, hesitant, fearful, unwilling to rise just yet as if waiting for some sign of reassurance. But that sign had not yet come. Darkness still reigned with a great profundity, and the tenebrous world was unrelenting. And the Darkness sighed, as if content, satisfied that its grip had not been compromised. The world lay still, as if accepting its fate, and it lay in a grey, colourless state with its eyes closed. But the heavens were wide open, seeing all and yet nothing. Only the clouds in the west threatened to come, but in the stillness before the dawn, there was no wind, no driving force, to bring them. It was as if the world had died, only to be reborn with the sun and dawn. And yet, for all the stillness, for all the death and immobility, a shadow moved upon the skin of the earth. It moved like a snake with tendrils of shadow, smooth, tempting, inviting. The shadow was an empty soul hungering to be filled, cursed as was Tantalus of the ancient world.
His movements were silent and fluid, attributes passed down to his daughter. The black orbs, so contrasting to that female, watched only that which was ahead of him, but they saw through the peripheral all that he had been trained to see: movement, anything out of the ordinary. But he saw only the rattling shivers of the trees through that shuddering air. And his ears watched his back, but he had that sixth sense that many animals carried, utilized as if with a purpose. And as he walked, passing as a wraith through the trees, his black claws ripped through the earth, tearing it with a natural ease as if they hungered for something more. The shadows seemed to cling to his sinewy form, clawing at him, grasping at him with their tenebrous tendrils, begging, pleading, with empty voices. And with each step, the fell away, torn from him by his disregard. And he stepped into the forest’s clearing as dawn finally broke through, and the world was thrown into a chaos of wind as it brought that tentative line of clouds in the west.
Slowly, the large Korean lowered himself upon his sinewy haunches, and he sat is if in contemplation as the sun mounted the earth. But the light was smothered by the clouds brought by the wind, and as their cooling shadow fell over the crow wolf, the winds were quieted and screamed no longer. The relinquished only the rain, a soft weeping of the world. The pied crow sat unmoving, as lithic as the effigy of some forgotton god fallen dormant in the world. A soft sneer tugged at the corners of his lips. He knew what he wanted and he knew that he would get it. But the Korean was a patient creature, unhurried by the necessities of the material world. And the emptiness within him did not call to be filled by needlessness. That empty soul of darkness sought only the freedom of the world, the freedom of his own wishes and whims, of his curiosities. If he would bide his time, that God which he served would show him. And for now, he would lie in waiting.
[/html]
[html] http://i43.tinypic.com/2jds8c3.jpg); background-position: center bottom; background-repeat: no-repeat; width: 499px; background-color: #000;"> can we date this to after she's kicked out of Dahlia de Mai? For simplicity's sake xD Also, she's unshifted.
Like a cancer scare In the dentist's chair
Maybe karma was biting her in the ass, or maybe her life was a big joke. But her banishment had been no jape, and she was slowly being forced to see the truth, even as she fought against it. Her short stay in Dahlia had opened her eyes to her.. condition, but it would not stop her from indulging in drug and psychosis. And even now, she struggled to accept that she had seen Svara, done anything to her, because she hadn't wanted to, hadn't remembered the incident. But now she could see the wounds on her chest, which in anger she reopened, letting the blood stain her chest to match the angry red glare of her daughter, judging judging judging with teeth like the devil's. She was homeless, in a sense, but the neutral territories were all hers now, and she lived in Hailfax, on piles of drink and drug.
The forest hugged her rusty brown coat, cloaking her in comfortable damp darkness. Rain began to fall, but she barely noticed it as she pressed forward, hunger driving her after some small game. Unlucky rabbit, out in the rain, what was it thinking? Nothing, now, as her teeth closed around it's neck, snapping the fragile bones. The lady's mouth smeared with blood as she tore into the tender flesh, body in lupus shape, finding four paws better for traveling than two. The meat satiated her, allowed her to relax long enough to catch the scent of another animal, a male, nearby, so she turned and traveled after it. Soon enough she found the target. The unusual pattern of the coat caught her wheat eyes first, and then the black eyes, black like the demons that haunted her. But they were not devoid of thought, in fact, they seemed to sparkle with a power that she'd only seen before in Cwmfen. And... the smell was familiar, too. She stayed standing, a good seven feet away from the male, turning her gaze over his masculine form. 'Who are you?'
[/html]
[html]
style="background-image: url(http://i43.tinypic.com/bz8ra.png); width: 450px; height: 500px; z-index: 1; line-height: 10px;">
style="padding: 0px; position: relative; right: 80px; top: 66px; width: 220px; height: 360px; z-index: 2; overflow: auto;">
That’s fine with me!
500+
HEART OF DARKNESS
The pied brute sat unmoving, as lithic as that effigy he had seemed as before. And he had not moved, as if he were lifeless—truly made of stone. And in that darkness, in that world where the vestiges of humans littered the earth still, he might have been. The black orbs watched the black nothingness of the forest ahead of him, but it did not see that forest. His erected posture that gave him the quality of the gods of statues made it seem as if he were waiting—or listening, perhaps. He listened now to the whisperings of the shadows, to their whines that pawed incessantly at his ears. It was the same sound that life made. His disregard of their pleads were as if he placed himself above life, beyond life. But the Korean never made the mistake of becoming foolish. His arrogance was well won. And it was in this black solitude, this empty solitude, that the crow wolf thrived.
And then something disturbed his sinister serenity. Even as it drew near, the male remained unmoving. It was only at the sound of its voice, her voice, that a response was provoked. A single ear swiveled to face her, as if through the sound of her voice he could know her better than through sight. But finally, after a great long moment, the male’s crania turned toward her, a strange movement that seemed unreal. The black, fathomless orbs considered the other as if he could see right through her; it was a gaze that was hard and unrelenting, that held the weight of oppression and yet no weight as all. As the shadows. As the Darkness. A light sneer tugged at his lips and characteristically fell short. The cool façade was unmoved as he rose and strode several steps nearer in what appeared to be a single, fluid movement.
He could not ascertain the colour of the world, living in a colourless life, but he thought that the shade of her coat resembled that of the male which had been the first to come upon him. The large brute breathed in her scent, brought to him by the service of the wind. There was something similar about her smell and that of the other male; perhaps they had hailed from the same region or pack. But he smelled something else on her too, something beyond the scent of her last meal. It was alcohol and something else of which he did not know the name but recognized. And it was with this knowledge that the sneer that had tugged at the corners of those black lips nearly became manifest—but not quite. A black flame flickered across his gaze. “Corvus Vendetta,” the tenor replied, and his cold voice was dangerously, yet invitingly, assuaging. A slight dip of the male’s maw was offered in greeting, but the emptiness in his soul belied his gestures and made them disturbing, perhaps even mocking.
The powerfully built brute closed the distance between them with ease, untroubled by the rituals of society, untroubled by the warnings of death. He towered over her in that form, but he would have anyway. The way he held himself, with that erected posture, almost seemed dominating, and perhaps it was. Perhaps he demanded her submission. But there was something else to it, as if he were merely curious, pushing his limits only to know the end and wonder continuously. The same rules did not apply to this male that applied to others. And upon closing the distance, his white chest brushing against her, his jaws leaned down dangerously with the clear intent of closing upon her, to crush the life from her. But he was always in control. Instead, a pink tongue, so contrasting against his colourless form, found a speck of blood remaining upon her jaws. “And who are you, Rabbit-Eater?” The emotionless tenor dripped with some dark intent as the mirthless grating that was his laughter clawed the air.
[/html]
[html] http://i43.tinypic.com/2jds8c3.jpg); background-position: center bottom; background-repeat: no-repeat; width: 499px; background-color: #000;">
Like a cancer scare In the dentist's chair
There was something unsettling about the male's demeanor. She couldn't put her finger on it, but it was something that was just off about him. Yet it did not put her off, or make her want to turn away. It fascinated her, and she felt the desire to learn more about him, the stranger in the forest whom she didn't know. His gaze turned to her and Sabeen met it full on, not moving her body an inch, not giving in to his stare. Her own eyes of wheat stayed locked on to his, ignoring the heaviness they carried, her own shadowed with her own motives. She wanted to mirror him, to prove she could match him move by move: a lighter, meaner smirk twisted her broken lips. However, the lady did not move forward, not wanting to close the distance completely, to allow a veil of shadow to fall between them and keep the meeting that much more enigmatic.
His expression moved, but only slightly, before he spoke. She did not mind his judgment, if that was what it was. The world clearly did not want her, and so she spat on it and moved forward, holding only her grudges and vices to her name. A curt nod was offered at the name he gave. Sabeen drew her shoulders back as he finished closing the distance that separated them. The lady could not deny the flicker of fear that passed through her, but she ignored it and still held still, wondering what the man had in store. The touch, however trivial, led a shiver of excitement down her form. How long had it been since she had been so invigorated by another, in just a few brief moments of knowing them? The lick was more surprising than would have been swift death, something she expected at every moment these days. The lone animal allowed her eyes to fall shut, a puff of breath escaping her. 'Sabeen Thames.' She sighed, her voice sparked with desire, not sexual.
Sabeen didn't think to move away from the imposing black form, and so rested neatly on her haunches, titling her head slightly to see back into his black, black eyes once more.
[/html]
[html]
style="background-image: url(http://i43.tinypic.com/bz8ra.png); width: 450px; height: 500px; z-index: 1; line-height: 10px;">
style="padding: 0px; position: relative; right: 80px; top: 66px; width: 220px; height: 360px; z-index: 2; overflow: auto;">
EDIT: Aww damn, wrong accout again! I keep forgetting... TT^TT
500+
HEART OF DARKNESS
Those black ears, raised above him like the horns of some demon, drank in her name. In the darkness of his mind and soul, it dissolved and became nothing, nothing like the nothingness of his soul. Unlike Cwmfen, there was no song that sang, and there was certainly no song in his soul. It was unnervingly empty, like the void of space, like the black holes that drank everything into oblivion. So his soul drank in others mercilessly and without discrimination. His soul was a black world of water an nothingness; the waters of his soul were still, and they were ever still. They raged only with his rage, but that creature that was his anger, his ire, lay dormant. Anger was beneath him. All emotions were beneath him. There was only nothingness that drove him and the whispers in the dark. They laughed, sniggering as they touched the female’s fur. Like worms they threatened to penetrate her skin and soul, to infect her with their disease. With his disease.
“What are you doing here, Sabeen Thames?” That cold, emotionless tenor that dripped with that darkness clawed at her ears with inviting talons, and the effects were both gentler and stronger than the mere shadows that clung to him. He made that mirthless sound, that grating laughter, as she shivered. Her reaction was strange, and that sadistic curiosity that had closed the distance wondered what would make her respond. What invoked a response—any response, from this light eyed fae? But it was almost as if he had already poisoned her as she lingered there. And the male did not move away, lifting that crania slightly as if daring her to resist, to raise her own maw against him. His soft neck was there, wreathed in the white of his pied coat, that white that gave a clear warning.
She did not withdraw, but lingered in his presence. She sat as if accepting the darkness that clung to her, but she had not let it in yet. A sneer tugged at his lips, a cruel thing that threatened to carve itself upon his cruel maw. But cruelty fell short of his physique, and that gesture was left incomplete. His fierce, unrelenting gaze was unmoved as the blackness bore into her. He looked down upon her, his maw dangerously close to her own. He took note of the scar that split her lip, and it was a pity that his jaws may do it again. They searched her, remembering that strange emotion that had accompanied her voice, but such a thing could not register within his mind. He was silent, and it was almost as if he had become that effigy, frozen in time and space. But that tenor, a quiet, dangerous purr, made the darkness shudder. “What can you find there?” There, in his eyes. “What can you see?” That sound again, that grating. It was almost mocking, daring her, as if there were a correct answer to that sinister inquiry. And what if the answer were incorrect? Or, more precicely, was if it were?
[/html]
[html] http://i43.tinypic.com/2jds8c3.jpg); background-position: center bottom; background-repeat: no-repeat; width: 499px; background-color: #000;"> ugh, i suck, long wait.
Like a cancer scare In the dentist's chair
Sabeen had since stopped thinking and was just being, breathing in and out, embracing the darkness that surrounded him. She had her own darkness to accompany her, although her's was plagued with holy terrors and religious whisperings. Corvus seemed to be in a higher plane, a man to follow. He should have worshipers at his feet, as he taught of becoming nothing. Yet it seemed almost below his dignity to grace a group of needy followers. Her eyes sought his again, drinking in the nothingness. It was soothing. 'Wir denken, Gott lenkt.' She did not know why she was here. It was not her business to know, and so she didn't even contemplate it.
She did not move in response to him this time, feeling frozen by time. They had since departed from the 3rd dimension and had entered the 4th, they were unstuck in time. Location didn't matter any more. She saw devils flashing red-stained teeth and holy angels hiding their faces, ashamed of the world they governed. And in between the ranks of holy and unholy stood a sea of faces, blank, dumb, like helpless deer. Who were they? Citizens of the world, perhaps, departed and otherwise. They couldn't see their fate, but she could, clearly, passing by too quickly for her to register. The lady again became aware of the Vendetta's presence, back in the forest, cloaked in the heavy warm darkness. A shiver passed through her as he spoke. She was looking into his eyes.
What did she see? She saw nothing and everything at the same time. He was playing with her, mocking her, but she did not mind, for the only fear of him existed down in her subconscious and she was willingly his. 'Your eyes reflect back not you, but the world surrounding, and your darkness, which is holy but not so. They have nothing, yet, all existences of time occur within them, and also out of them.' She closed her eyes then and breathed deeply, now addressing him. 'Can you transcend? Do you not see the holiness and unholiness conflict?' They were always there, in the darkness.
[/html]
[html]
style="background-image: url(http://i43.tinypic.com/bz8ra.png); width: 450px; height: 500px; z-index: 1; line-height: 10px;">
style="padding: 0px; position: relative; right: 80px; top: 66px; width: 220px; height: 360px; z-index: 2; overflow: auto;">
A bit of powerplay—let me know if you want it changed!
500+
HEART OF DARKNESS
The black auds flickered as she spoke. That language—he had heard it before on his way to Caledonia many years ago, but he had not learned it. And he did not like that sound. It was an ugly sound, light in colour as the clouds are. He loved only his own language, for it moved like the dark rivers of the underworlds. And while the male could not understand the language, he understood the implications of those words. He heard it in her voice and saw it in her eyes. And he was silent, indifferent to her answer, requiring nothing from her and needing nothing from her. His maw, however, was hungry, and they traced a line in the back of her neck as if ascertaining how much force would be required to crush her. And there would not have been a lot of force required for such a thing, and the smallness of this female greatly tempted him to satisfy that sudden need for blood.
In the silence she seemed to be breathing him in, embracing him, and he could not help but notice how easily this creature was swayed in the dark. But he thought of her only as a victim, something easily overcome and something easily thrown aside. As she spoke, speaking now in that language he could speak, the black auds flickered as if chasing away an irritable insect. And here it became quite apparent to the Korean how this female embraced the dark. And now that she did, he wondered which of those two paths should be taken. He could allow her to live so that she may be allowed to live in the darkness, only so that he could return and kill her later, or he could kill her now and get it over with. But he would let her decide. It was always better that way, he thought with that sadistic amusement.
Suddenly, the male’s maw came up, catching the female’s maw with the force and intent of an uppercut, to knock her to the cold, damp earth. And he pinned her upon her back, the secui’s claws resting upon the lupus’ chest as that sneer clawed at his lips. His maw came low, near to her ears as his neck was exposed to her, unafraid and almost challenging her to do what such a thing called her to do. A soft grating insinuated into her ears, falling into them like a poison. “I am transcendent,” the tenor voice sneered, almost purred. He could crush her there beneath his paws, collapse the cave of her chest cavity and silence that language. But he merely pinned her down, the force and strength of his single paw only threatening such a thing. “I am above such conflict.” His maw moved to her face, then to her neck as his teeth hungered for that flesh. The black orbs returned to the lighter eyes. “Have you come to give yourself to one transcended?” The suave tenor died and he laughed again, that cold, mirthless sound.
[/html]
[html] http://i43.tinypic.com/2jds8c3.jpg); background-position: center bottom; background-repeat: no-repeat; width: 499px; background-color: #000;"> SORRY ARG WAIT |:<<< AND CRAP. AND WRONG ACCOUNT GJAGFJ
Like a cancer scare In the dentist's chair
The world was divided. On one half, her fate led to her death at the hands of this Vendetta. He would move in and take it from her, so easily, and she would not resist, content to die at the hands of a superior entity. On the other, she did not die, and from there it faded away so she could not see her own fate. So she could not say she was surprised at the sudden move, as she gracefully- as gracefully as a four-legged being could- collapsed backwards, the larger male holding her down. Her eyes smiled while her lips didn't move. He confirmed her suspicions.
Had she come to give herself over? Sabeen couldn't be sure. She was helpless as a newborn babe, adrift, without an anchor. But she did not truly believe she was going to die tonight. Her death would come at the hands of someone who had earned it, not this stranger, no matter how primordial or sublime he was. It was with this knowledge that she could look him in the eyes, 'Not yet,' she murmured, her voice peaceful. 'Unterrichten mich.' Softly she spoke her native tongue, allowing her throat to be bare, still knowing this wasn't her time. A parallel drawn unbeknown to the ignorant female between this moment and the Illiad, as Zeus laid Hektor's and Achilleus' fate on a scale and Hektor's was heavier, his time to die, so was her life being weighed and finding it was not time to die.
[/html]
[html]
style="background-image: url(http://i43.tinypic.com/bz8ra.png); width: 450px; height: 500px; z-index: 1; line-height: 10px;">
style="padding: 0px; position: relative; right: 80px; top: 66px; width: 220px; height: 360px; z-index: 2; overflow: auto;">
500+
HEART OF DARKNESS
If the pied brute had one flaw it was that he cared too little for the fate of others. He believed himself one to change fate, one who was above the existence of others. He could not recognize love, could not register it in his mind. For the crow wolf such emotions were a mystery. Only hate and anger, perhaps even certain desires, were the things that he knew. And yet, those emotions too did not reach that soul; perhaps, as the shadows to his body, those emotions pawed at the blackness of his soul, but they could not penetrate that impenetrable density that sought only what was beyond mortals. But what it was that he truly sought only he himself knew; Cwmfen did not even know why it was that this creature desired her body, desired a son from her bloodline. And was it truly a son that he desired? A sneer clawed upon his maw with a cold certainty and those white teeth glinted in the dark—a smile or a snarl?
The lighter female succumbed to him, as malleable to his will as the sculpture was to Pygmalion of the ancient world. But there was no desire in his touch. In his touch was the heavy weight of poisonous lead, cold, distant, but somehow curious. Perhaps those jaws would have taken that life. Those jaws slightly so that he breathed into her fur as his cruel maw moved along her throat. They were hungry, and they sensed the life and the blood that flowed beneath the soft exterior. Its soft rhythm echoed in his ears, bidding him to take the bite. But the wolf was ever a wolf, having been turned early in his life, and he sensed no fear. Fear was the opiate of the male. Indeed he did not need the other’s fear to take the life, but he could not rid this damned world of one who so eagerly embraced the dark—surely there was not enough of her kind. And yet, she was not as satisfying to that sinister mind as she could be. There was something that was lacking, that did not move the male—what could move the male?
“What are you waiting for?” That tenor sound murmured as his maw lingered at the soft pulsation at her throat. “뭘 기다리고있는데?” He repeated those words in his own language, that empty tone rising slightly as if with a threat. Those jaws sneered and they moved to linger above the face of the one beneath him. There was nothing welcoming about those jaws. They were hungry and yet it was not time yet to take life—he was not compelled. And perhaps the world could use those who were willing to follow him into the night. There was something else, however, that was perhaps moved within the male.... The pied brute shifted, those black claws cutting through the fur of the female and feeling the beat of her heart beneath his paw. Hiw maw wandered to the place, feeling the air moved by that beating and wanting only to hold it between his teeth. She was at his mercy.
[/html]
[html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... eenban.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> crap |: sorry
She wondered why he couldn't see who's hand she would die at. Maybe she was wrong. No, she knew in her heart of hearts that her daughter would fulfill her promise. But not now, not for a while. Sabeen was young, herself. They both had to live, experience what life was. It was only when she became a broken shell that her life could be taken. Her body moved involuntarily under his cold touch, tensing at the closeness of his bone-crushing fangs. How easy for her to slip into his grip, to become part of him as he took her into the darkness. But she wouldn't. Instead she kept her eyes closed, letting a sharp-edged smile cross her lips.
What was she waiting for? How to put it into words. She kept quiet for a moment, opening her eyes to meet his empty stare.
'A promise was made to me a long time ago. I do not intend to let her break it.' It didn't really matter, and she knew, and she thought he knew. She could have said anything at all, and it would amount to the same. She watched him peacefully, watching the jaws flutter dangerously close to her lifesource. 'Unterrichten mich.' The words fell from her mouth loosely, almost slurred, as though she were growing drunk on his aura. In German she was bolder than in English. Would he understand her intentions? Did she understand her intentions.. yes. She wanted to follow him, become of him. If he'd let her.
[/html]
[html]
style="background-image: url(http://i43.tinypic.com/bz8ra.png); width: 450px; height: 500px; z-index: 1; line-height: 10px;">
style="padding: 0px; position: relative; right: 80px; top: 66px; width: 220px; height: 360px; z-index: 2; overflow: auto;">
Oops! I didn’t even notice that my previous post was with the wrong accound...=___=
End this one here? If you want one we could have a follow up or something? But if you want to continue, just have her follow him, ^=^
500+
HEART OF DARKNESS
The black male was silent, his breathing practically nonexistent as he stood over her. He was an empty shell made to move my some unimaginable force. And that empty black soul knew that one day, though not today, that shell would expire. Just as most creatures lived to reproduce and further their species, the crow wolf lived to replace the body that would soon die. He believed that his soul was far older than his body, and his soul was to the nature that the same form was formed again. It was this too that struck fear into the hearts of some, for there were several that were now long dead by his own jaws that remembered his shape from a different life. A sneer came to his maw. He knew it to be true, and so his existence now concentrated on the use of Cwmfen’s blood to attain that eternal life. But too many feared the dark. Although Cwmfen did not, she feared him and had run, making it only marginally difficult for himself. But he knew that she would come, and that black soul would devour her.
Those ears that had risen above his head like the horns of a demon pricked forward at the sound of that voice as that black, fathomless gaze pierced the layers of the shadows of her face, carving into that meaningless smile. The brute was unmoved by this show and was silent, shifting his weight upon the paws that pinned her with merciless disregard. Those words meant nothing to him; there was no significance within the male’s life for the life of the female thing beneath him. And so silence followed those words as if he required something more to move that unreciprocating creature. That familiar sneer tugged at the corners of those wicked lips; that promise did not concern him. That promise did not stand between his jaws and her neck—there was nothing save his mercy. What spared her life now had nothing to do with that promise of which he was not a part.
And then those words; she had said them only moments before. A mocking irritation clawed its way upon the bridge of his maw, threatening to become that insatiable snarl. He exhaled sharply, a sneering laugh that mocked her openly. The black paws pushed away from her as his body cut a serpentine path in the air, the claws indiscriminant of her flesh as he did so. And the pied secui’s posture remained as it had been, the erected tail swaying in the chilled air. The black crania did not turn back to gaze upon the thing he had left behind, and the eyes watched only the shadows that gathered at his feet. The Korean was already walking away when that cold tenor called, “You are not ready—peace has no place in the Night.” That grating laughter clawed at the air as he continued to melt into the night, a shard of shadow marred by the cold moonlight of the crows of death.
[/html]
|
