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Sikla
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Post by i a h on Jul 6, 2009 20:14:25 GMT -5
They lucubrated one another in the nighttime of the castle, their eyes yet to unlock, yet to liberate the one another from the fetters of a challenge. Demon was a philanderer indeed, a little wanton temptress in her own robust, violent ways. The tingling of her laugh, the angle of her smile, she did it all coquettishly and she was painfully aware of it. But this flirting achieved nothing with him while it probably drove other men in circles, chasing their own tails because they couldn’t catch a night with hers.
“Keep talking. I’m not even listening,” and he pushed his face a hair from hers, his furrowed brown dispersed into a completely dispassionate stare. The muscles in his lifted paw ached with all the rigidness; he was clenching his fists in deep thought. She was a whore, a slut, and he could see through her shirt, her words, that scar. He would smear the denial right off her face as he flexed his digits, his talons raking into her countenance. Unsure of his own intentions, he couldn’t focus on just how intensely he stroked her. Perhaps, if he tried, he could tear her seams apart and sew them back up with kisses. Maybe not the last part.
I do love you and there was a rare, ephemeral moment of confusion cocking his little puppy head. Was the student sprawling across the headmaster’s desk? That four letter word itched the pulse back into his mitt like the pins-and-needles after numbness. “Say it again until we both believe it,” and he was primly enticing, like the rich kid straightening his tie and flicking the ashes of his cigarette in your drink. It was a ”make me“ breed of instruction. Oh how he wanted to break her stunning features; oh how he was hot for striking her down and nothing more.
[ word of the post: lucubrated. It sounds dirty, right? But it is to work diligently at night. Pretty specific. ]
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Post by † Demon † on Jul 6, 2009 20:33:48 GMT -5
Oh, this tension is wonderful. Great post BTW.
It burnt into her skull like liquid poison; that momentary sting, much like that first tattoo or piercing. Her eyes watered a little; but not in pain, just amusement. Pure amusement at the path of this meeting, and how things had played out; unplanned, but perhaps not unwanted. Blood trickled through the fur on her face, clinging to each individual strand like sweat; though much thicker than such. She could taste it on her tongue; bittersweet, metallic, enjoyable. This was what she thrived off; pain. It was pleasurable in the most sickest of ways.
"Well now, look what you've done," She was sly; ice cold. "You've made me bleed." She smirked, watching for a reaction. She wanted him to beg for forgiveness; but the likelihood of that was next to nothing. "That's not very nice now, is it?"
Watching him closely, she did something that she hadn't even had time to register in her mind. She pushed herself harder into his talons; the blood flowed faster now. It ran down her facade at a reasonable pace, resting on her tongue, and dripping to the stone floor. Each drip echoing into the silence, each breath they took changing the course of each bead.
"Should I return the favor?" She smiled again; that same teasing look, yet multiplied by ten. It was now that same schoolgirl, yet almost naked; she was toying with his mind, and thriving off the tension that they created. This suspense was electric; she knew that she was winning, and it made her little heart skip a beat. She wanted to eat him alive.
Say it again until we both believe it; those words repeated through the corridors of her mind. She was undecided. Could she really mean it? She continued to smile at him; the smell of blood burning at her nostrils, yet never fading the scent of Iah; it was a nice mixture, a perfume that only Demon could enjoy.
"Iah, my dear." A pause, there was a knot in her throat; a lump the size of a golf ball. What was she doing? Why did she repeat it? Her mind was at a loss; she felt powerless to stop her own words, her own body. Just her, Iah, blood and the empty walls of the stone castle that some poor soul had probably died in whilst building the wretched eyesore. "I love you."
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i a h
Sikla
light up
Posts: 274
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Post by i a h on Jul 6, 2009 20:58:51 GMT -5
The scarlet beaded on her fur at first, and then the crimson began to stain her cheeks like sobbing in the most elegant, sublime but wretched and morbid and all these things at once. Monday remembered wanting to knock her into the fountain only moments ago, though that seemed a million wishes in the past. Then there had been the enraged storming like reprobation from the gods, who by now, must have recognized that any attempt to rip them apart was fruitless.
“What can we do that displeases the other? I want to make you unhappy, make you unhappy like you were before,” he told her belligerent mind, almost speaking directly into her velveteen sonics. “So no matter what, you will have the last laugh too. Does that mean we’ll be stuck here forever, maybe till the end of time, torturing each other and enjoying it? Or do you think you‘re actually winning?” There was a teasing murmur of a joke somewhere in between those lines. Maybe his soft, slow southern accent enhanced his arguments; Monday released his words into the air, let them pour off of his tongue, unhurried as the setting sun.
Unblinking, he pulled his claws away, shiny with her cherry gore and sad that this probably wouldn’t scar. And although he was not engrossed by her anatomy, her stupid, annoying petty language and smiles claimed the tiniest piece of his interest. And that blood matting the satin fur of her muzzle, the delicate curves of her features, that made something in his gut twist.
Monday wiggled away from her, standing with his head lowered and a scowl demanding all of his mug. He might just walk away now and leave her to the night [ word of the post: reprobation which means rejection by God as the state of being condemned to eternal misery in Hell.]
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Post by † Demon † on Jul 6, 2009 21:20:46 GMT -5
The tension faded; momentarily, but it faded nonetheless. His confession rang out, amplified by the walls around them. She smiled at this knowledge, and had, in her own way, fallen for the male. Yet, would he ever know that? She was unsure. However, in a strange way, Demon figured that he already had an inkling; they were on the same page. They had a connection.
Does that mean we'll be stuck here forever... Oh, she hoped so. She let out a knowing smile at this; deep down she hoped he'd click, she wanted to be read like a book, watched like a movie, played like a whore. That was who she was, and though she was capable of commitment, where was the fun in that? "Iah," she purred slowly; watching him shift away from her. She wanted to follow. "If it meant spending eternity with you, I'd remain this stubborn any day."
Her words were crystal clear; and for once, honest. She hadn't lied, and her eyes danced in such a way. If he so wished, he could read that; though something in her mind wondered if he would. Maybe he didn't want to know; maybe he didn't want her. Her heart sank a little, but she kept on smiling. "...All it boils down to in the end is..." She paused; shifting herself back onto her paws, and shaking herself down. Blood spat from her open wound; hitting the floor, and the fountain. It would probably stain. She smiled at this; a good place for memories.
"...We enjoy each other's company. We play in the same ball park; we get the same scores." She was near him now; her eyes locked on his body. Her maw shivered; the tension was back stronger than ever. She could smell him, and she wanted to take him. Take him in a way that would linger in his mind for an eternity; take him so he'd think about her at least one minute every day. She wanted obsession, lust; love. She wanted Iah so bad, it had begun to eat her inside-out.
"You want me just as much as I want you," she cooed confidently. "But we're both too stubborn to let our guards down. We're headstrong, and that's how we like it. We're too set in stone to change." She sighed quietly, her paws clenched against the floor; a small click as her talons rested tightly atop the stone. It was cold against her pads; she tasted blood again.
Moving her face in front of his, her tongue fell from her blood-soaked maw. She went to lick his muzzle; she wanted to taste him, linger in his being, and feel loved once more. She hoped and prayed he'd let her; she wanted him to fall for her. Fall for me, fall for me hard.
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i a h
Sikla
light up
Posts: 274
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Post by i a h on Jul 6, 2009 21:57:05 GMT -5
All of this, every last drop (like every last sip of her blood, like her story, like him lapping up milk), was silly, because it was a mystery as to how exactly had all these things had surmounted the entire evening. Like the nimbus clouds that blotted out the moon, this drama killed the deadness of the human den. The pair were a riot of children in the streets, tearing up the city with their alcohol and loud music.
Logic and speculation constructed right angles and solved algorithms in his brain. The computed jackass in him didn't believe a single pronouncement, judging that Demon was unaware and delirious in her articulation. Auds slick and vertical, Monday was 'a stranger wherever her roamed,' and couldn't think that this she-varg would offer him some sort of home in a one-night-stand. Soft-spoken Monday (except even his whispers had a serrated end) would not stand this.
Still drenched from the rain, the delinquent let his eyes pool over the spit and blood solution. He was so attracted to the blood that his stare shifted to the floor painted red. For a moment, his thoughts lingered on the claret alone. Monday didn't want her so much; he wanted the thrill of conflict like teeth on his jugular and her skin parting under his tongue. “Is this another one of your chapters on sex and pain? Or am I just a punctuation mark in your sad story?” he wasn't angry at all, but simply wondering if she was always such a nymphet.
He lifted his head while she ran her tongue across his chin, annoyed.
"Maybe if you didn't throw words around like that, people wouldn't hurt you," he started but realized, "maybe you just want to be sad."
The stuff in quotations is from a song in a movie I'm watching. Dark Streets I think. [:Tarkah edit: [[Can we change the title so its just [R] and then write that its mature content at the top of the first post? Proboards TOS will have our heads again!!]
you can remove this invasion after teehee]]
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Post by † Demon † on Jul 7, 2009 9:50:56 GMT -5
Edited it as Tarkah said :] Just stuck a big 'mature content' warning on the top of your first post sweetie; hope that's ok..
As for my post; really sketchy. Not in the zone today it seems... :/ [/size]
She pulled away; eyes blazing. It was strange to her how one minute they'd been so close, the next, so far. It was unusual, different; horrible. Her muscles shook violently under her ebony fur, she stepped awkwardly away from Iah - unsure how to react, not sure how she felt. He was different than the others; and this, in a way, was deadly. It seemed that she would be the one thinking of him, not the other way around. A snarl, her canines snapping beneath her lips. Her tassel flickered, it was unclear how she felt. Maybe just a little hurt.
"If it pleases you, Iah, know this; this stopped being a game a while ago." She paused to meet his gaze; those eyes were poison in her veins. He was pure, yet disturbed; a wolf in sheep's clothing. She smiled weakly. "There's just..." Her words stopped, she turned away; her body shifted and her back was turned to the male. Licking her maw, blood already beginning to dry; she pondered on what she was about to say. What good would it do? None. The stone was set; the cement was hard. There was no changing this. But in some deep crevice of her heart, she had already begun to class him as her friend, even if such feelings were not returned.
"There's just something about you Iah. I barely know you, and you're already like opium in my bloodstream. You bring back that 'dragon' in me." She smiled to herself, knowing he could not see the expression. Her eyes glittered. If she wasn't so stubborn, perhaps she would cry. Yet, tears would be a last resort; she hoped he'd believe her words. She hoped he would loosen his bonds, and take back his hurtful words.
"I'd give you the world..." She paused, eyes traveling over the fountain; the blood added that rustic effect, ancient but strong. That's how she felt, despite only being just over three-years-old. She was strong; but her weakness was madness, and yes; she displayed it beautifully. Almost stupidly; one day it would bring her down. One day. "I'd give you the world if I could."
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i a h
Sikla
light up
Posts: 274
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Post by i a h on Jul 7, 2009 10:48:57 GMT -5
// wasn't thinking about the mature content thing x: Wolf in sheep’s clothing is one of my favorite phrases ever btw// A few stray raindrops, like the firmament was wringing itself completely dry, kissed his face, his cold and leathery nose. Monday shut his eyes for a moment, as if engrossed and meditating on their match, on his imminent victory. But he couldn’t spot the finish line from here, not yet, and not for a while as he gave the ruff of his neck another shake. Water sprayed, dappling the water of the fountain with small ripples. There must have been many, many more men in the same spot he stood in now, but he would not bow to Demon like they probably had; he was not the same, because he said so.
In his nares, the metallic bouquet of her blood was not diluted by the scent of rain or of pheromones any longer. He tried to imagine the sharp smell of urine and fury, but he couldn’t get the sickly sweet aroma off of his wits -- it was a hindering distraction for any wolf (save, maybe cold-blooded killers and desensitized hitmen.) “You are perfect,” and he padded around to face her muzzle to muzzle.
“Your words are sublime. How many times have you rehearsed this? I can tell you have practiced, or at least that you have had practice on your share of friends. Is this why they hate you? Why they love you?” with a sphingine tenor. Monday was inscrutable; his words were a code to crack. His ears pressed forward as his livid, obsidian spheroids groped to slay the dragon that was Demon. Viridescent stones set in a raven face and he couldn’t unwrap himself from that ‘x’ he imagined. Oh, no. He wasn't a bad boy at all... just a naughty boy...
[ word of the post: sphingine like the smile of a sphinx. I think this word really suits Monday/iah. His name is Egyptian, after all.]
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Post by † Demon † on Jul 7, 2009 12:18:40 GMT -5
In a bit of a rush but wanted to get a post up before I went round my friends house; sorry for the suckiness of it. -hug- I'll be on msn later - wanted to talk to you about 'Wake'. Got some ideas and stuff. :][/size]
She scoffed at his words; a half choked laugh that was buried deep in her throat. As his gaze met hers; face-to-face they stood, she wondered how easy (or perhaps difficult) it would be to tear out a chunk of his flesh, and make him bleed as she did. She loved him and she hated him - she had been here before. Nocturnia...
"Your words are hurtful, Iah." She whispered softly; there was no tone, no emotion; the black femme was aching. The wound had begun to throb, her stomach began to rumble (how long since she'd fed? A week perhaps). Her thoughts were all over the place. She wanted to fight, she wanted to flee. But she couldn't get him out of her mind; what did she want? She was confused, lost; a complete mess.
"I don't practice anything," she mumbled bitterly, like a spoiled child being told that they are, in fact, spoiled. Her gaze fell to the floor; her tassel brushing across the dirt on the stone floor. It took a moment, but the femme soon realized; it was nighttime. Her mind had been in such a different place that she had not taken into account the changes around her; was he this intoxicating?
Moving further from Iah's form, wishing no longer to smell him, she let a small grumble escape her maw; she wanted closure, answers. She didn't want to be lost anymore. This male had eluded her, and that, was a crime indeed. "What is it you feel? What is it you want? What are we doing?"
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i a h
Sikla
light up
Posts: 274
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Post by i a h on Jul 7, 2009 12:56:42 GMT -5
Monday glanced over her entire crestfallen appearance, spheres touching, caressing each and every curve of her body with harsh appraisal. “Maybe my words are hurtful, but that doesn’t mean that you are actually hurt. Do you wear your heart outside of your chest or something?” and he hinted at her negligence, her lack of armor. Like a puppy, he was getting a little sleepy at this hour, and he blinked slowly as if to ward of an ill-timed slumber. As Demon’s voice softened, he heard a lullaby.
Impetuous, reckless, and chaotic events had dramatized their encounter into something Monday hadn’t experienced in his two short years of life. So far, his memoirs were crammed with transitory relationships with vargs of all ages, genders, shapes, and sizes in a completely platonic and utterly infuriating sense. He would meet them and greet them with nothing, but in most cases, their conversations yielded fascination. They would think of each other, and Monday knew that they wondered (be it unhappily, impatiently, or expectantly) if or when he would slink his way back into their lives. It was probable that the youth was shy but manipulative and all around a lazy acquaintance, let alone friend. He embodied neglect so that he couldn’t even fill the job of friend or enemy, let alone a son and brother; his presence could never be strong enough.
Demon was unlike the others, because she actually seemed to like him. Almost everyone had found him annoying or strange, unsure of what to make of his company. Few dames took romantic interest in him, and all were young and outright stupid, straight away turning him off (he didn’t like to be chased, but they were mostly ugly.) “We aren’t doing anything. Or we are doing nothing,” was his ephiphonema. That was his answer: there was nothing but air between them, recycled breaths.
Yet he picked up again, “I am getting exactly what I want. I want nothing, and it is nothing. You are nothing. Maybe I will like you, and maybe I won’t. You don’t even know me.” He stretched his back, pushing his front paws forward and dipping the middle of his back down. “I’m tired. We can go on a date if you want, but not now.” He began to turn around, leaping up onto the staircase and padding up several steps.
There was that peculiar curl of his lips and that wicked flash of ivory. A fleeting glimpse into his soul.
"Absence makes the heart grow fonder."
He was gone.
[word of the post: ephiphonema or an exclamation or reflection used to summarize or round off an argument] //that wasn't sucky at all! and yes, i'll be online later. >;3 i've been getting some more info up on Wake. bahh, looks like Monday cut the evening short. >:'D hahahahahahaha -maniac- LOL i replied on lach's account at first.//
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