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Maybe in the Dampwoods again?
500+
IT IS INEVITABLE
The pied brute had left Dahlia with another injured soul. And such spilt blood would not be lost upon his daughter. The black mind laughed with a black mockery. She was the pack’s warrior, their protector. And yet already two had been left to his mercy. And their lives could have been taken. But they were gifts. Their lives were his gift to Cwmfen just as that coyote boy’s had been. For that, for their lives, she should be thankful. Even that vigilante—Onus—had been spared. Lovers. Those empty orbs glittered with insidious amusement. That lowly coyote had not even been able to defeat him, had been at his mercy, and his daughter gave herself to him? And that girl, Mati she had been called. That had been his warning. That girl, so similar and yet lesser than his woad marked daughter, had been the vigilante’s warning. He sneered, that cold smirk sliding upon his malicious maw like a slithering snake. They were weak. They were undeserving of his presence, and yet he had given it to them. He had tasted their blood. He was generous.
His feet dipped into the shadows as his form slipped into the darkness of the woods. The black orbs scanned the world about him—this silent place was the only place that was not infested by the weakness of these creatures. Like a virus, he had said, they spread and multiplied across the land. But he had planted his seeds, he had shown what the darkness could do. And when he had taken from Cwmfen nic Graine mac Corvus what was his, he would leave this disgusting place that even the gods of light turned from. And his darkness would purge the land of weakness, of ignorance and idiocy. He would remain. He would be eternal. His darkness, like the darkness of these woods, would be perpetual, eternal. Undying.
Once before he had met another here. It was a familiar place—but it was no longer raining. The female. Sabeen Thames. She had been a creature ready to embrace the dark. And he had rejected her—she had not been ready. The Korean sneered. He wondered, and his thoughts were spared for this one lone female. And he wondered if she had learned, if she were ready. He paused in that clearing. The dead trees of early spring had filled with the green of leaves, darkened now by the night. And the clearing was darkened by the shade of the trees and they shuddered and sighed in his presence. The Korean was still, watching the depths of the dark as if expecting something. And from the tainted heavens, the pied Raven descended to him, landing into the hands of the crow wolf as the beak whispered things to him. And then he sent the bird away, dismissing the creature. And the clearing was silent once more, and he stood in that lithic stillness, ever as that effigy of a long forgotten god of darkness.
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[html] Sounds fine (: Naniko's supposed to help with her injuries, so I'm just gonna gloss over them a bit for the sake of the thread.
Pain. For days, all she felt was pain. It was subsiding, now, healing, although she refused any bandages or cloths. The husky Leroy had fractured her rib, thankfully not sending it into her lung, and left dozens of marks along her sides. They healed and faded into redpink scars, marring her ruddy coat. The worst of them stood out on the left side of her chest, where her breast would be, were she shifted. A dent and a knob of angry scar tissue, some blood still clinging stubbornly to the pale chest fur. But no matter-- the husky had given her a gift, unbeknown to him, and she smirked at the irony. As she had lied in her den, her body given out from aches and blood loss, her Father had descended to her in the darkness, warming her in it. He had breathed into her eyes, shown her the path to Darkness. Abandoning of self. He had told her a great many more things, things no soul had ever known or would know-- but they had faded back into the darkness, out of her mind. It was these she sought now, and for this reason, she suddenly thought of Vendetta.
The pied brute had lingered in her thoughts since she met him. He had been holy, transcendent. She wondered at him, idolized him. Jealousy sparked in her father's devil-red eyes when she thought of him, but she couldn't resist. He had told her before that she was not ready, and she wondered if she was ready now. Since the incident, the lady had abandoned shifting, given away her heroin. These pleasures of the human world tainted her and kept her from the True Path. She entered into the Dampwoods, breathing in the darkness, remembering their last encounter, their only encounter, and yet she yearned for him. She hoped her eagerness wouldn't turn him away from her.
It was not surprising that she sensed his presence here. Wasn't it always going to be that she would meet him again? The scarred woman moved quietly, bleeding herself into the shadows. She felt graceful, in control in this form. He was near- but where? Perhaps the same place he had been. Sabeen moved slowly, unworried. A pied crow passed her above, and she felt a curious tingling pass through her spine. He was here. She moved into the clearing and stopped, resting her wheat-hued eyes on his black and white form.
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Oh yeah~ Since she’s unshifted, I’ll just make him unshifted as well (or maybe secui?), unless she will? ^=^
500+
IT IS INEVITABLE
The wounds upon his arm that Onus had given him were already practically healed, only the bruising remaining of that incident. He was a swift healer and tolerant, even desiring, of pain, and it was this that added to the danger of approaching him. And in the silence, he contemplated that vigilante. The next time they met, it would be the last. One of them—or both of them—would fall. A light sneer threatened upon his lips. How would he meet him? How would the other find him? With his daughter. He sneered. Perhaps it would be so. And the coyote would be able to see the futility of his efforts and the futility of the efforts of all that resided upon these lands. The pied brute was a creature of darkness. He believed himself to be near to a god, and he would deliver unto these wretched things the truth of the world. And the truth? It was that Darkness would prevail, would conquer. Indeed, the humans had been the first to be subject so such a thing. Now only their faint vestiges marred the earth. And these wolves that adopted those human things would perish as well. It was inevitable.
The black orbs shifted, breaking the ultimate stillness of his form. She came to him, her form emerging from the darkness. That fierce, empty gaze pierced those lighter eyes as the silence between them grew heavy and black. He was silent as he simply watched, that hollow gaze so intense that it seemed as if he could see right through her. And perhaps he did. Perhaps he saw that subtle change within her, a gate that had opened and that made her worth his presence. A light sneer crossed his maw, as his beautiful but terrible visage shifted, watching her. “Have you come to me?” the suave tenor voice soothed, that blackness dripping from that treacherous sound. Then he waited, commanding her in the silence to approach him, allowing her to approach him, to break the sanctity of the ground upon which he stood. This meeting was not the same as the last. This meeting would be different. He sensed that she was ready.
The black orbs beheld her form, openly beholding the worth of that body. There were new wounds, fresh, upon her form. “Find solace in the Dark, in my embrace.” Those black words took on a dangerous tone, quiet upon the silent night air. Such an offer had been made to another, Mati, who had rejected him. But he would not be refused. And yet she had brought to him the coyote Onus, and so her life had been spared. But he would not be merciful with Sabeen Thames. She was too deep to turn back now. She was beyond the point of no return. She was here now to give herself to him, and he would take from her that which was due. And he would not be gentle, for the Dark was not gentle. The Darkness was brutal, and it was brutal reality. This woman would see that reality—he would allow her to see. He would allow her to know him.
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[html] If he tells her to shift she'll shift, otherwise, she's considering it tainted. Also, apologies for this length .-.
He looked at her, and chills arose in her form, dissipating quickly. The lady did not flinch but met his gaze evenly, her lips twitching slightly. Any words were reluctant to come forth, perhaps because they were unnecessary. Corvus knew the answers to what he spoke. Instead she moved forward, obediently, as a child would approach her father. But this was not such a situation. Sabeen stopped before him, almost brushing her nose against his, but never touching, not without his permission. "Yes." She breathed, and then, "I am ready now."
He spoke again, and the words soothed her, welcomed her. She moved closer yet, a hair away from touching, remembering the way he had held her to the ground. Sabeen knew what was coming, but it wasn't in the same way. They were not too young lovers giving to passion. There was no passion. And as much as she worshiped the male, he felt nothing for her. This justification of her existence would be enough. There were no stirrings of lust or desire in her, but thrills and a sense of almost reverence at his being.
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500+
IT IS INEVITABLE
The pied brute stood before her cloaked with his shadows and with his darkness. The black orbs watched as she approached obedient of his silent commands that bid her forward, the black tendrils of those tenebrous entities reaching out from him, drawing her closer with that irresistible allure. As she stopped, the woman was close—and yet not too close. She was quick to learn from the lessons he gave. Those cruel lips twitched again, amusement flickering in those empty orbs. And then she spoke, claiming to her readiness, to her willingness. And she had indeed come willingly, easily. The brute was silent, those fathomless pools looking down upon her with cold calculation. This creature was ready to accept the Night into her heart, and he would allow her to spread those shadows of the night. Even when he would leave these lands, she would remain to allow his tenebrous soul to leak into the lands, seeping into the very earth itself until he had infected these lands—or perhaps he was the cure to the wretchedness that spread over these weakened lands like a virus.
And Sabeen Thames had moved only marginally toward him, but the dark tendrils that wrapped about her seemed to draw her dangerously near. The brute’s maw tilted slightly, nearly closing that distance as that cruel maw drew back in the beginnings of a snarl, those white teeth glinting in the half-light of the night. And there she stood before him, at his mercy, and still she came willingly. The Korean drank in her familiar scent, testing it for the proper signals and pheromones that he expected to be elicited—he was still simply that wolf, uninfected by the virus. And yet, whether or not such signals were imposed, the crow wolf would take it. He knew what he wanted from her. Like Cwmfen she would give it to him. But unlike Cwmfen, this female was not a carrier of that blood. Or was she? With proximity, he could smell the blood the pulsed beneath her skin, and there was a weak trace of something. “Are you willing to accept the burdens of my will?” the tenor sound continued, dripping with that dangerous intent. Her willingness was of no consequence; he simply presented to her that illusion of choice.
Then the large brute moved with that surprising fluidity, carried upon those merciless paws. He moved about her, his body never touching hers, and yet he pushed his maw through her fur, feeling her body along her shoulder and spine. He tested her touch, those jaws slightly parted as his teeth pressed against those freshly marked wounds, even feeling the fractured rib beneath. As the crow wolf circled about her, he paused at her rump, his nose brushing against that femininity with undisguised intent before he moved on, tracing her body once more. He would instill his seed within her shell—she was worth his time. Satisfied, Corvus paused at her shoulder, those cruel jaws brushing against her ear. “Are you willing to give your Self eternally to me?” That tenor voice almost growled, and yet, somehow that hollow inflexion never changed. But, as the religious did, she would belong ultimately to him. Once more, he presented to her that illusion of choice.
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Her eyes had fallen shut, her body swaying just slightly with the wind, her mind blank as she waited for Vendetta. She would wait for him forever if she had to. Sabeen allowed no thought to dare taint this span of time, allowing just the darkness to breed and multiply, cloaking her, caressing her. It would love her in his place, although love was not what she desired. He spoke again and she allowed the yes to fall from her lips, in her mother tongue, because the barrier of language was not here, it didn't matter how it was spoken, just what was spoken. And he did not really require her answer, but she gave it anyway, her voice not soft but quiet, patiently awaiting her god.
He moved, but she remained still, allowing him whatever he pleased. It was an inspection, one that furthered the tingling sensation in her legs, made her breathing shallower. Every pinch of pain that accompanied his teeth against her healing wounds also brought a measure of satisfaction, reminded her that she was loyally his as a devotee. The lady was ready, open to him, receptive. Her eyes opened, though did not seek out his, but sought only to study the darkness, in accompaniment to the warm grasp of it's hands on her. Obediently she responded, 'yes,' to his question, letting her wheat-tinted eyes close to the outside world to better accept his command.
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He will want to ask for some drugs afterwards to use on Cwmfen, :O
IT IS INEVITABLE
The woman was still, silent, allowing him his right. And he observed her openly without disguise, assessing her worth and her ability to continue what he would begin, to bear the seed he would surely plant within her body. The pied brute required his vessels to be worthy, able at least to carry and raise the helpless whelp that would result in such a thing. That was their purpose, the purpose of this woman now. But he liked what he saw, and she was silent, allowing him his right. And she uttered that single word.
A sneer clawed at his mouth, but he was silent. Silently, the pied brute continued the circle, closing the space as he allowed his far to make contact with her. The black pools pierced the lighter eyes of the fae as he passed by, his gaze hollow, fathomless, all encompassing. The shadows whispered in his passing. And he came upon her. Effortlessly the male rose up on his hind paws, mounting her lesser form. His forelimbs gripped her sides roughly before he pushed into her, slamming into her roughly. Then he was still, holding himself within her as his jaws lowered to her neck, those cruel teeth teasing her skin. The black tail carved a sinuous path behind him as he shifted his weight. He did not experience the same rush of pleasure that others experienced, but a need to satisfy the impulses of his body, that ancient lupine instinct to continue entering into his mind like spilt blood permeating the water. He did not require the simple sexual needs—he needed something less refined in such acts.
Then the brute withdrew, only to penetrate her again with unrestrained strength. This act of intercourse was not for this woman—he would satisfy only himself. She might as well have been raped for the brutality he used, and those forelimbs laced with sinew held her firmly beneath him. He could make her hurt, and he would breath in that pained scent, those pained cries. He would make her call out his name for mercy. This was not an act of love. He would conquer her. She would know that she belonged to him. He would subdue her. He continued to thrust into her with painful thrusts, his movements slow and merciless as his jaws brushed against her skin with dangerous proximity.
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