Hatred is Strong.. Love is Stronger

[Nocturnia Diiore]

The Vale of Shadows.. It had the reputation of the most mysterious place in all of Transylvania. Those who entered desired comfort and fortune-tellings, those who ran at the sight of it only ran because they were terrified to face future or past. Many knew rumours of the Vale, of the twisted femme who now controlled it, of the strange one who used to own it. Dead things, mostly ravens and other birds of black, hung from branches, an eerie mist constantly hung over the borders of the territory and in the treetops, which were so dense that sunlight was barred out, and all around hung the aroma of a cold, clammy forest.

And at the entrance stood Nocturnia Diiore. He'd been to this place before, and its appearance did not raise fear into his heart. In fact, he actually found the Vale quite comforting - the solitude and wildness of it all excited him, brought out the feral beast that resided within his wolven form. A behemoth since birth, the Living Wolfbane, as he had come to be known as throughout the land, stood tall and erect, as if he were the Dragga of the most vicious pack known to Transylvania. His coat was of the most gorgeous of blacks - deep obsidian with a healthy sheen - well-groomed and cared for; a wolf's health and pride is seen in his coat - that was his belief - and he took extra time to keep himself looking as presentable as possible.

Malicious eyes of cold steel contrasted with his wicked coat, staring up without emotion at the hanging ravens. Subconsciously, he wondered how the avian corpses managed to keep such a healthy, fresh-looking appearance, eventually deciding that they were either changed or kept full and round with dark magick, something that had always mystified him. His nostrils flared as he recognised the scent that hung over the eerie wildlands - not of Mayan, as he had expected, but of Demon. A half-smile curled his black lips, knowing the scent of his true love, and, without loitering at the Vale entrance for another second, the great beast barreled into the thick underbrush, seeking the femme of Shadows.. Both knew madness, though of different origins, both knew death, also different, but both had hearts that were as hard to pierce as a toothpick to a brick wall.. And yet, both had pierced each other's heart.

Nocturnia halted at the clearing he'd come to the last time he'd visited the Vale of Shadows, raising his large head and sniffing the stale air. Demon was near.. The feeling of pleasant lust entered his soul as he let loose with a howl, just for the hell of making a loud entrance. Heavy paws padded against the thorn-covered ground, unhurt, as he paced, waiting for the she-varg he had so strenuously searched for for the past few months. Unlike their last meeting, the crow-hued male had gone under a complete metamorphosis. Previously, his muscles had been worn and stringy, but now, they had returned to their proper state of hard perfection. With each move of his legs, the muscles all along his body rippled and curled, bulging as if having been fed steroids.

Eventually, the huge male grew impatient and sat, tail thumping every now and then as he searched the brush around him for any sign of the mad female with whom he'd found love.

Ooc: [Blah, this is so short.. -grumble-]

[† Demon †]

Baadd.. really bad! -.-

Demon jumped at the scent that floated through her nostrils. It was in her lands, but it wasn't like the others. The scent did not make up an image in her head, and that was what left her disturbed and perturbed. The scent was rough and decidedly masculine. For a moment, her poisoned eyes darted to and fro. Someone had to be there. But she found nothing. Restlessly, she shifted from paw to paw, before settling down - a howl now disturbing her peace.

Demon had known the sound before. Understood what it meant, what the meaning behind it was. Yet, distraction was burying her - her paws were bleeding, it was like the spontaneous bleeding the believers of the man-lord, Jesus Christ saw as a testimony to faith. Man worshiped water and earth - she, personally, preferred fire and darkness. Their damnation was her faith's Saviour. With her paws dangling over the bank, she stared down into the crystal abyss - the last time she had been here, she had bled into these waters too.

The souls of Markaz, Lestat and Amber had been planted inside her.

The plague of her heart from Nocturnia hurt her severely. Neither evil, nor good seemed to love her. All because of her devotion to the shadows. She loved the dark haired brute, always would. Time and time again she had considered finding another lover. But it would be false. She could birth their spawn, and find comfort in their fur, but he would be the only and last lover. Warm blood might have paused this, but it would not have healed her wounded heart. There was only really one equal to the darkness she felt in her heart. Her dark, and masculine God. No one else could stand in Nocturnia's place.

That scent again. Her green orbs widened and she looked around. Unsure and unsteady. Out of the mostly murky waters she pulled an image. So many times water had its taste of her blood - the water had half blinded Mayan. It had left scars on both her ruined souls. The scar loomed from her left eye, and she wrinkled it - no pain. A spot of blood appeared on the water's surface, but she didn't notice. He waits for you. Dark and evil. You're knight is here - and you want to steal him like you wanted to steal that sick monster, Markaz. Fell to darkness, want the full blow. Sick little wolf who needs love to live. Love and evil... I was once like you. I let it kill me - because I am good. One aud twitched, and the seductress shifted uneasily. It was Stormy speaking - her other side, the side she had once been, and never would be again; the one whom died when she had watched Markaz die into the distance.

Sadness plagued her heart.

The water rippled, back and forth slowly, not showing anything more. A tingle hit her spine - it was like a delicate and sweet tickling. Like Nocturnia's tassel up and down her back. Twisting her heart as he did this - yet it was a dream repeated, she knew deep down the sensation wasn't real. It almost hurt her, made her whimper. It was good and bad in one. Most of all, she missed him. He was home, and this was the only one she knew to like her for who she really was. Her darkness was now suppressed enough to control - the howl of before left wavering and blinking in her mind, and there was nothing to do but find the source. She didn't like disturbances.. especially at midday. Her ears pinned to the back of her crown, as she stood fully on bleeding pads, feeling the nip of the ground into her cuts - fresh blood hit the floor, and her belly trembled... He was there - before her, sitting impatiently as though a Dragga on a mission.

She watched from the shadows, safe and secure. The pain had gone, the voices faded. She felt peace, yet as it too went away - a whimper escaped her lips, she shivered as the cold icy pain of her devils came to her skull - they had tightened around her neck, the invisible devils wanted his attention. yet, who could blame them? He was her one true love...

[Nocturnia Diiore]

Impatience plagued this great beast's mind, and after only a few moments the dark male found himself idly shifting his weight, eyes searching almost desperately about the brush. After he was sure he had seen through each shrub and thicket with those piercing, silver-steel eyes, his huge body was heaved up by muscular pillars. Blowing out a disappointed sigh, he began to pace - something held him in this place, as if he were still waiting for the wicked enchantress of the Vale to appear plain as day, as if she hadn't ever been hidden. Eventually, however, his hope began to thin, a desperate whine fluttering from his throat - he loved this varg, he had strengthened himself and had traveled this entire way for her.. But she was no where to be found. Women.

Nocturnia's ears remained perked and hopeful, though the thread of faith he still held onto that the ebony she-varg would appear was drawing thinner and thinner. It was true - he loved for nothing. She may have fallen for him that day in the stone den because of how weak and needy he had been, how he had begged for her attention, for her food, for her help.. Or she had been trying to trick him, to break him; it was working. The Living Wolfbane, a solitary monster and god of madness, now felt utterly alone - finally there was proof that even devils could love.

Misery slowly began to eat away at the colossal Kerl's heart, and he found himself sinking down onto the cold earth, a lonely world where the Female Wolf seemed to rule. Before, he had been completely against femmes, for they were not as strong as a male, and thus had no right to order the male around or to pick on the male as an innocent pup. And look what he had been tricked into! He had fallen into the Female's trap! Nocturnia's black lips curled, revealing the razor teeth that he vowed to use upon Demon, should she step from her concealing shadows, and a hellish snarl erupted from his corrupted throat. Once, he had been mad, and now that insanity seemed to come seeping back into him, the bitterness of Demon's apparent betrayal beginning to sink in. He would kill the femme who had stolen his heart..

..Though something in the back of his mind reminded him that she had shown him love, she had given him the torture of lust. And he found himself having second thoughts. Could he really hurt her?

[Woo-hoo, two-month DELAY!! ]

[† Demon †]

The monstrous femme stood there in darkness, pondering the moments away. She was afraid to leave, afraid to even show her face anymore. Demon was afraid that he would find out. That he would know she liked him And that perhaps, there was more to it than that. Demon loved him. But she couldn't fathom the words to speak to him, to let him know what exactly she felt. How could the black beasts’ words describe feelings that were tumbling all over, and around her? She couldn’t. It was that simple – Demon had no idea how to tell Nocturnia that she loved him. It was weird enough thinking she could love another since Markaz’ death, yet this femme had recently started to hate vargs; even though she was one herself. And adding to that, she was just another outcast; impossible to love, easy to hate as it goes. She wasn’t exactly what one would call pretty, and Demon would feel horrid if they somehow got together, and Nocturnia’s views changed on the world he lived in, just because of her. She’d feel so sick about it all that she’d probably become more depressed than ever experienced in the past.

She decided, in that moment, that she’d just stand there and wait to be found – her scent would travel. Get it over with, now. If Nocturnia didn’t feel the same way, then it wasn’t much of a big deal, she thought. It was only her heart broken in two once again; by another male that rejected her as easily as the first. She felt like she had no luck with love; death and destruction was too strong these days. She made herself ill with the thought of rejection, and even though Nocturnia would never, she hoped, be mean or hateful about it, Demon would never be able to look upon this mighty devil the same way again. She shifted herself, still shaking slightly on her four-legged posture; she wanted to run, run as fast as she could out of her land. Yet, she stayed… Minutes upon minutes, she felt the anxiety building; cold air squeezing her lungs and devil’s in her head taunting this cowardly feeling that now stole her devilish little skull. Yet, she didn’t move; she watched Nocturnia, knowing soon, very soon, that scent of hers would successfully reach that ohsobeautiful façade if his; and all would be revealed. Demon shook her sly, scarred black head and sat down; a snap of dead leaves forming underneath her.

Would Nocturnia notice her before she completely lost control? Could she tell him? She didn’t know. Demon sat there, thinking upon it more and more; no longer knowing what reality really was. Her face twisted in agony; the shadows were slowly melting away from her form, she would be seen in all due time, it was unstoppable. Yet, even with this in mind, she just sat there, letting the shadows fall away and the scent reveal her sorrows within. She would admit to herself now; she had no choice but to surrender to this love – she didn’t care anymore. She didn’t know what else to do... anything to mend her broken heart.

[Amaroq]

((Hey all...thought it would be fun to RP with the two of you...however if you want some private time then I'll leave and delete this post. Cheers. ))

~Amaroq stood near the entrance to the Vale. The winter had taken it's toll on her, and she looked smaller than usual, ragged ebony fur hanging off her body and clinging to shrunken sides. She was home. Home after her journey to the north to look for signs of her family....and to escape the ghosts of the past that haunted the packlands that she called home. The Vale was the first familiar place she had encountered, but to her surprise, instead Mayan's scent the mist was laced with the familiar scent of her friends, Demon. This had effectively halted her, and she paced the borderlands between the Vale and the world beyond anxiously. The last time she had seen the other fae, months before, it was in a misguided attempt to bring her back together with her former mate, Markaz. But now Markaz was dead, and all that behind her...she hoped.

Golden eyes clouded with indecision, she paced back and forth, stirring up little clouds of dust with her paws. She stopped abruptly as another smell floated on the breeze. Nocturnia Diiore. She had heard of this varg; the Kerls called him the Living Wolfbane....Amaroq wondered if this was even true, and had not paid much attention to it, until now. Her fears and doubts banished by her infallible curiousity, the ebon fae stepped closer to the Vale, large amber eyes searching for the two vargs she knew were there.~

((Ugh, horrible. I'm so rusty, haven't RPed in ages. ))