He was like a legend, the eviscerating truth setting those free of their eternal damnation, a monstrosity wrought of pain and of incomplete emotion. Still, he does not lack ambition, holding it between his limbs, a flame ever living, ever flickering. Power and prowess, hunger for him is not unexpected, thirst of the heart that beats in his breast is not misunderstood, for how strong is he, how righteous. Like the tongue of a serpent, his own tongue would leave the confines of his inky lips, scraping, dragging, across his muzzle. Slavering jowls, parted, salivating, hungering for release. For life.

He is a conundrum, a craft of unparalleled genetics, and yet he is the ultimate failure. Every mother's worst nightmare. Where most kids, were held to a fear of falling down, for him there is the fear of success. It is unbeknownst when he came to be so twisted, still, he thrives in his hedonistic ways, his hungering savagery, and his beastial elegance.

The summer heat was coming to an abrupt and chaotic end: the afternoon skies were gradually growing dark and static electricity was evident in the thick, humid air, crackling with the promises of a summer thunderstorm. The daunting clouds gathered at the horizon, creeping towards the center of the sky to consume the sun and transform the once pleasant day into a dreadfully-delightful downpour. Karmen Roe was lying on her side, hidden amongst the tall grasses, relaxing to their gentle hisses as if sleeping snakes. Once she heard the vegetation begin to part, she rose to her dainty haunches and peered at the stranger who dared interrupt her solitude. She was not disappointed. He was monstrous: he could easily dwarf any passerby, easily doubling Karmen's height and perhaps tripling her weight. He moved like a blue-blooded beast, with the swagger of an untouchable God and a menacing stare. His eyes were jewels: dark, gleaming emeralds that almost matched the beauty of her own glittering peridots. He looked like dark chocolate, so tantalizing and tempting, but so very obviously bad for you. He was a mixture of rich browns, ranging from dark mahogany, to warm amaretto, to candied almond. His hairs fit snug and svelte against his elongated limbs and broad chest, like a man in a well-tailored suit and tie. From his devilish facade following the curve of his muscular neck and down the spine of his behemoth body and to the very tip of his tail, every fiber in his body screamed perfection. He was almost more enjoyable to look at than herself. She could feel her heart palpitate at an unreasonable speed in the confines of her breast as she pulled herself to her feet, her tongue running along her lips as she drank in his entirety. Lord have mercy on him, because she moved towards him, quietly and quickly, with wicked intentions and a girlish dream to have the world in her hands. She wanted to be spoiled by peons, to be adored and lavished over, to be a queen with a mighty and heinous rein. And she would have her domination some day, but for now she hunted the stranger, cutting off his path with a serpentine sashay of her hips, raising her fragile head to him so that he may feast his eyes upon the silk-like nature of the golden hairs that clung to her luxurious body and her intense eyes, that no matter how hard she tried, could not detach from his own pair. She remained silent, statue-still except for the vile and alluring simper that pulled on her lips. ------------------------------------------------------------ ooc: tall, dark, handsome, and uncountably wicked. im sorry but karmen has a fat lady boner <3 talking to you

Power was his natural inclination, the master held it with perfection, was a mesmerizing king of night, a god of war. He indulged in little more than the devilish snap of bones and the crack they made when ivory fangs latched around them and dared to squeeze the life away. He loves the feeling of pulling through something, loved the lifeless look only he could deliver them. He wanted to get them out of their world, and in his own curious way; he was their salvation. They should have fallen on their knees before him, should have kissed him, and he would lock them in an eternal embrace of slumber, peaceful pleasure. Such was the gift he was so willing to give. He was the only one that could make death erotic.

He did not need to be aware of the golden goddess, did not need to think of her, for fear did not suit him well, did not pain the palette by which he was so perfectly crafted, and so she could not surprise him. And while, her beauty was evident, and most men would feel the fire in their loins to just reach out and touch her, taste her, he was so horridly indifferent to her. His physical want for her was as strong as his want to let her live. Nonexistent. When he wanted to see her scream beneath him it was from the rigorous ideals that he could rock the life out of her. What a way to die.

His tongue would sponge across inky jowls, saliva falling from slavering jaws. How hungry he appeared to be, and how hungry he indeed was, and so he would draw forward, the salacious marksman only a facade. He did not want bliss or pleasure from her, he wanted to hold her heart and wrap his metaphorical fingers around it, to feel it beat, to feel it fail, "You shouldn't put yourself out there, sweetheart," the hiss was almost vehement as he attempted to move forward, to wrap his head over the dip of her back. I want to swallow you whole.

OOC: <'3 It's okay, I'm in love with Karmen <333 Cepheus just wants to mount her...head on a wall. XD

She wanted him, in all his emotionless and malicious being, she wanted him. She wanted every fiber of his being next to her, in her mouth, inside of her. He made everything whimsical about unnatural attraction die when she just wanted it to burn alive, like polar opposites. She desired him to desire her, and perhaps he did, but it was evident that it was not in the same degree she yearned for him. But some womanly determination ignited her, and she was more than eager to play this game of his. He made her have goose-flesh, butterflies trapped inside her stomach, making her flutter those big, dark lashes. Saliva dripped from his jowls as he spoke to her in that molten chocolate voice, his stare hot with unintelligible intentions. She internally swooned. He moved forward to enclose her, to gather her in the cavity of his chest and she slipped barely out of his reach, letting his chin graze the curve in her back before she moved away and tried to drag the tip of her tail along his lips like a beckoning finger. "I just couldn't help myself." Her voice was gritty like Delta Blues, raw and decadent, reminiscence of a sultry jazz singer in a lonely bar. The heavens ripped with a guttural roar, announcing the arrival of the storm. A flash of lightning illuminated the atramentous skies, shedding a quick glimpse at the beast's strong jawline and wet lips. Even the environment was suggesting that the meeting of these two was infernal and possibly destructive. ---------------------------------------------------------- talking to you

She exuded lust and yet he was not drawn to her because it was not primal configuration, non, she was absorbed in her own Hellenistic sins. Her sanctifying lust, and he watched, watched as she curved away, giving her only the answer of the lack of desire to follow. He would not chase, but be chased, and turn in on the capture. Holy self-worship was what crafted the both of them, but hers was purely arrogance, hers was that of which she needed to be uplifted, she uplifted herself, where he uplifted power, where he stood on a pedestal above the rest of the world, "Do you deserve to dine with a king?" his firm lined lips would life into a mild simper, reminiscent and ready.

Retribution. He thirsted for it.

"I won't chase you, ma b?lle," he cooed in an attempt to irritate her, he wanted to make her skin crawl, to make her lash out in anger, in rage, and in the purest fury he could get from her. Burn, baby, burn. The mantra was constant in his head, thrumming and incessant as it drove him to figuratively press her buttons. Crawl, sweet golden goddess, let me see you squirm. Find yourself swearing fealty. He did not want her, but wanted her fellowship, her reverence, her eagerness to treat him like the self-accomplished lord he was.

Perhaps he embodied a different different sin. Even though Karmen was carnal and sinister in her own feminine ways, her body screamed sinful intentions. The way she moved, reminiscent of succubi, and the way her words fell off her tongue like molten venom. He was something else - just as evil, perhaps even more twisted than she intended, but his emerald eyes were so entrancing, and he was so deliciously muscular and coloured. How could Karmen derail herself from him? She was internally pitching a fit: when didn't Karmen get her way? Every female fiber in her body craved him, every demanding molecule that constructed her flawless genetic makeup was protesting as he refused to come after her. It was tedious and it was exhausting. If it wasn't for his immaculate complexion and immoral genes, she would have left long ago. This was an opportunity that many men did not even had the chance to experience, she only lingered in their dreams, on their skin like fire. But this man dusted her off, thoughtlessly blew her out like a candle. And she did not appreciate it. She paused, just a few footfalls out of reach, turning her chin over her shoulder to gaze at him. A faint hint of a sneer touched her lips, but minus that her face was lackluster and void of emotion. No, not a mere King. I deserve to dine with a God. --------------------------------------------------------------- talking to you

He wouldn't touch her, wouldn't give her that untimely satisfaction. his touch was isolated, meant in only the most capable of ways to be given. He would not lavish her with such an honor, especially when she had no right to such a thing. She had not proven herself, merely demonstrated her well made proportions. She were delicate, graced in elegant features, but she deserved no right for that. There was no use for beauty, it did little to reel in anything of matter. He wanted to see her tremble beneath the weight of the world, hold it up until her bones shattered in the attempt to resist. The poor girl, she must have so hungered for the chance to bend so many to her will. He would not be her adversary in such a feat. He did not work with others, others worked for him.

Her words came with complete truth, something she had to hold so true. She truly held herself high, and while he could stare at her and understand her level of confidence, his lips would conjure up a darkened smile, and he would question these motives of hers, "Why?" What makes you so special ma b?lle? The Italian canine watched her with indolent presentation. He craved her presence, but only because her need for him was complete indifference to her..

Underneath that glamourous facade was something more sinister: it was black and wet, coiling within the confines of her subconscious cages. It was faceless and vague, but it's intentions were obvious with every contraction of her heart. Karmen homed something far more malignant than he obsession with handsome men, more poisonous than her lechery. More than filthy sex with a stranger, more than tainted romance or admiring herself in a mirror of water. Karmen lusted for power above all else, she yearned for control She had never muddled with bloodshed - not yet, for the items of her desire were usually handed to her when demanded and there was no need to get physically violent, but in a world with no mother at the whim of Karmen, no slaves or peons to kiss her feet, her habits of seizure had become murky. She was growing careless with how she might obtain her throne. The rain began to fall fast and hard, wetting her golden locks against her curvesome body. She gazed at the stranger who stood before her - a man of little words and blurred intentions. She could feel the burn in her posterior begin to dull, but she smirked nevertheless, batting her thick lashes. "I refuse to let me and my potential go to waste for anything less." Immaculate genes, a charming vocabulary, and the desire to disastrously dictate the entire world. She was not a wolf for any ordinary man to have. --------------------------------------------------------------- talking to you

The supposed reign of the lands would arrive, her power emulating, but he would huff and a smile would form on his lips. She stood proud and tall, as though she was the biggest here. But non, no longer was she. While they were the same age, and she a female, he would note her power. Still, he didn't agree with it. Females were meant for brood. He would have his own here, and he would stand by her damnable law. But only until he saw better and otherwise. Eyes veered around and a snort in response rose from the depths of the behemoth's diaphragm.

"Your potential? What are you capable of?" he yearned to know, wanted to be torn into the ever growing significance of the cherub before him. There was something he didn't know that his mind groaned and ached for. He wanted to reach greedy fingers our and take the meaning that spewed from her lips. He wanted to be so blessed and so bathed in the meaning of her strength, "You stand in the presence of a lord, my sweet. A ruler in all due time," he would be a king that ruled with an iron fist, a shepherd to his ever loyal flock. He could see the legion spread before him, and the numbers were beyond counting.

The stranger would be daft to believe that Karmen did not note the miniscule details of him: his quiet puffing and snorting at the girl struck a wrong chord inside of her chasm. Her gaze slightly narrowed as arrogance painted across her once-charming facade. He was belittling her without saying a word, unimpressed by her impish size and feminine integrity, like she was a child, a pathetic and meager puppy. She pivoted her petite, nymph-like body, curling her upper lip in a snide scowl of disappointment. "Come now, someone of your caliber should know better than to judge a book by it's cover." The peridots that bejeweled her face rolled in their sockets, a small smirk replacing the sour expression that had molded her ever-beautiful features."And you stand in the presence of a queen, destined to reign." As much as he ruffled her lace, she couldn't help but eat the distance between them. She moved closer to him, wishing to stand parallel to his godly mass, wanting the friction to play between their skin. The man before her, still nameless, still just a shape, craved the same power as she did, although he was fermenting in wrath - she was a polar opposite, feeding the succubus inside of her, assuaging her need for physical admiration and loyal peons. She wanted it all: a man worthy of the title of demi-god, a kingdom of riches and endowment, and the world at her disposal. And if anyone had the nerve to tell her no, she would be the shepherd that led the lambs to slaughter. -------------------------------------------------------------------- talking to you

A coy simper would finally make its way onto the face of the man and he would stare at she with the voraciousness of a thousand armies at war. The vivid imagery to see blood stain her, to the wanton desire to bother her with his violent eroticism. He would show her destruction, "I do not judge you for your presence. I judge you for what came before," the serpent mumbled eyes falling down slowly, tail twisting in anticipation and eagerness. For the first time, in so long, he felt bent to do something. Felt compelled to look at the bigger picture, for it actually mattered in the single moment, "Whores don't do well under pressure," she was like whiskey in his veins, powerful, dreadfully intoxicating.

Oh, but he would be informed of his falsities and failure before her. A Queen? Such a provocative leader though? How would that settle well? "So it is not the sultry and carnality of a modern prostitute you thrive on, but that of a power whore? Ma reine, you seek to purge this world of it's impurities?" he had his own goals. The weak did not deserve to live, and he only dreamed of breaking them down, of tearing their kingdoms apart and ravaging their bones in the most hazardous of ways. He was making his bed, and once made, he would slumber like an anesthetic had been pumped into his blood.

Did she deserve to be a Queen? Namely his? Time would tell and he would hunt, ravage, and prepare the ways for himself to lead, to become a self made warlord and tyrant. It was time and it was coming quickly.

For once in her life, Karmen was putting more attention into this conversation than herself. She gazed at the man beside her with hungry eyes: hungry for his future, hungry for the power he possibly possessed, and hungry for his entirety - his body heat and the lingering touch he could provide. She was in a pool of sinful desires and she welcomed the drowning. She merely grinned at him as he answered his own questions: she was concubine of corrupt cogency, a prostitute for the pernicious and damned, and a whore for the most wicked of them all. And why was she not recognized for such dastardly and damnable feats? Because she was beautiful, and beauty fools the mind. "Purge?" she cooed to him, tilting her head and batting her lashes in false innocence. "The meek and impuissant have their place in their world. Why would I wish to rid of them when they make such tame chattels? They do not deserve to breed, but their repugnant genetics and inferior excuses for space can be put to use." She tried to trace her peachy nose along the side of his body, yearning to touch, lusting to breathe and familiarize his musk. She didn't even know his name and a part of her still couldn't muster enough to care. She could see it now: riches and rarities from across the land, minions to cater and pamper her, a large and dark man to rule beside her. And they would be delirious together on top of a mound of bodies of those who tried to challenge their rule. ----------------------------------------------------------------- talking to you

Such wise lady was she, so willing to speak and be spoken to by he, and so perfectly willing to open herself to the things the world hid from a young lady. She knew of the corruption and disaster that lay beneath. And, it seemed as though she were the most guilded of them all. A wry smile torqued over his inky lips, his tail swished in lazed amusement, she had captured him indefinitely. She would not be forgotten. His head would turn to the side and he would stare at his nameless empyrean. If there was something that he was certain of it was that, regardless of her queen or member status, she would be his whenever he was able to hold his own kingdom. There would be no argument, he would make sure of it.

?the tame are only good for target practice, ma ch?re. I only relish in the idea of dining on them,? everyone had their own poison and his was the most conniving. He found strength in the consuming of others, in the destruction of their kingdoms, and in the solace that they would not need to bid themselves pardon from this life. She, however, was smart enough to find comfort with the devil and not force herself into his whims and ways of anarchy and death, ?Cepheus L?cuyer, if you should ever need me,? she had made herself and her genetics most desirable.

An arrogant smile graced her refined features, her eyes drinking in the small satisfactory that the male emanated from his pores. She was a lady: poise, charming, feminine in all of her ways, but she embraced all the devious and nasty ways of the world, she was far too intelligent to look the other way. She was damned, corrupted by her everlasting beauty and the ways she could obtain whatever she desired. She was the kind of girl who would fix her makeup immediately after killing a man. She fluttered her brown lashes at the behemoth before her, standing still, statuesque like a monument for a God. He was undeniably perfect, almost as immaculate as she - almost. From his inky lips to the molten browns and ashes that suited his body, she fervently pawned him. But she kept her writhing desires muted, coveting her lust until the next time they would cross paths. "I may not be tame, Mister L?cuyer, but you can dine on me anytime." His name effortless spilled from her lips like melting chocolate. Karmen cocked her head, delirious that she had acquired the baron's namesake, so in return she offered her own. "Karmen Roe. You're welcome to come find me whenever your mood fancies." She turned her body away from him, sauntering into the darkness where shadowy arms embraced her, her hips following her in a beguiling sway. It was fate that they would meet again. -exit Karmen talking to you

she was a pretty little which spit out of the bowels of hell, that much would be given, he liked the way it seemed fire laced itself around her flesh, leaving devilish little marks across every faction of her body. she pleasured him by her exactness and her quickness to leave. he had no desire to propagate her into thinking he had any interest, however. she, though, did not understand the levity of permissing him to do something so holy as to dine on her. she would one day see the strength in such words, however, for they were not to be taken lightly and he had ever abominable intention to suck the life from her veins when he saw her lacking anything of use. those days would come. he would depart with her leaving, giving her no further words, offering her nothing more to go on than his indifference. his mood would never fancy seeing her again, but as long as there were life on the earth, he could act as though it would matter for him to see her again.