pretty wings

[Seeker of Truth]

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Millstone Village

Seeker of Truth had a fascination for human things. Anything that was once utilized by the now primarily extinct beings was captivating and brilliant. The knowledge they possessed was so clear in all that they had created from the complicated structures to the ingenious inventions. Yet, somehow, they had been defeated. Their structures and inventions were left to rot and all that they'd accomplished meant nothing. Seeker found it a sad truth, and only further reason to live without giving a shit about much. Because no matter what you did, it could be taken away with the swipe of God's hand.

Millstone Village was unlike many of the human cities Seeker had come across in his life. He had been examining the village for a good few hours now and had at first thought it was decent work done by a group of Luperci, looking to make a modern sort of settlement. But the further he'd looked, he'd found sure signs that it was work of humans and felt all the more fascinated by the fact. He supposed it was just like the way the world was now, some Luperci chose to live as their ancestors, in caves or hollowed out trees, while others chose to embrace their gift and live as the previous two-legged mammals had, in old stores or handsome manors. Whatever humans had lived in this place had chosen to live like their ancestors, he reasoned.

Seeker came upon a one-room house now, with a faded, partially disintegrated rug covering the floor and a small cot in the corner. Dust, rotting wood, and dead rodents made the air thick and Seeker found himself in a fit of coughs for a moment, caught off guard. As he inspected the wood, he noticed a heart carved carefully into one corner, with initials inside of its faded design. Seeker smiled softly, imagining the loving hand who had worked the wood in such a way. He wondered if the love had been true, or maybe just driven by lust as so many were in his time. The thought brought him back to a poem he'd written and he began to recite it as his fingernail traced the outline of the heart and the initials within.

"Two bodies, intertwined,
separated in nothing but mind.
A mindless process they endure
driven by passion, lust, gentle allure.
Wanting, needing, feeling
Tired bodies, unwilling to stop.
Pain, one working at the other, peeling
back layers, tearing
down walls.
So raw, so exposed
Beautiful bodies.
Beautiful sex."

Seeker finished, tapped the heart twice, and laughed.

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[Samael Lykoi]

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        The village was nestled away in the heart of the woods, secluded and distant from all other human settlements. It could have been created by luperci, save the telltale signs of aging and obvious abandonment. It had been a long time since this little village had been a bustling, thriving little town—longer than the luperci had been around. A few days had seen the coyote inhabiting the ghost-village, exploring all of its secrets and marvels. The entire place stank of dust and decay, but he was already used to that in the abandon cities and towns he so often found himself haunting. Another soul had joined him in exploration and Samael was briefly intrigued by its presence. Trailing the willowy hybrid like a ghost, he watched as he entered one of the houses.


        Crimson eyes gleaming bloodlust in the shadows, he briefly contemplated murder, but decided against it. Wolves were the lesser species, and this creature appeared to hold more coyote blood than anything else. Oh, it would be so easy to follow him into the crumbling building and end his life in one swift blow, but the pleasure would only last a few short seconds. It would be akin to nothing more than a quick orgasm, so brief and beautiful that he adored and craved it continually, living his life until the next. But he also understood this little creature could prove amusing to him in more ways than one, and could be reused while alive. He needed to discriminate when killing, and so he’d allow a coyote to walk away unscathed.


        The reciting of an explicit poem caught his attention and Samael moved closer, listening. Arm delicately embracing the open doorframe, leaning his torso against the aged wood, he peered coyly at the lithe hybrid within. “Sounds lovely,” he commented, with the ironic, apathetic voice of an inattentive viewer. Yet sharp, violent gaze was directed at none but the yearling bathed in shadow. “You look delicious, pretty boy,” the hell prince continued, his lust an unadulterated, fathomless force driving behind his every action. He wished to tear him into tiny, unrecognizable little tattered pieces, but he’d settle for a simple fuck instead.

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