so sharpen your teeth
Finding these little mushrooms was better than finding endless riches. Psilocybin was exceedingly rare, but it was exactly what he needed today. The male carefully harvested a single one, knowing full well that it was all he needed. In this new land, he needed to know if the spirits approved of his decision to remain here before he truly settled. If they didn't approve, he would be forced to continue his journey across the world in search of a suitable locale to rest his bones. Far from the place where his mother had cast him out, and farther yet from the crowds that seemed to swarm in an habitable areas. The tiny fungus rested on his tongue, carefully caged by ivory fangs. He would return here at a later date to collect more, once he had found a suitable place to make himself comfortable. A trade hub, and an altar to the dead. These were tantamount. Picking his way through the swamp, he sought out a reasonably dry place in which to ascend to the other realm and consult the spirits. Forcing the soul from the mortal coil was exceedingly difficult, and he rarely got far enough to truly consult. Only whispers and hints from the dead, more often than not. But they were good enough. Settling between the widespread roots of a tree, the male sucked in a deep breath. He began to work the tiny brown mushroom between his back teeth, grinding it into mush. "qul li 'arwah la tahda, ghyr muqayadat waghayr muqayadat, huna walan; laqad aikhtarat alsahih, litastaqira fi hadha almajal?" he crooned, attention focused on something in the middle ground. The paste of the mushroom slipped down his throat, and he settled in to hear the spirits' reply. speech |
Eyes of palest watery blue, like a creature who's spent it's life in perpetual shadow. The spider-witch seems to slither and oozes from one place of the swamp to another, skulking, slinking, leering, her cranium bobs erratically as if it's is too heavy for the thin long neck with protruding Adam's apple. Shifty eyes, carefully watchin ghe ghouls and spirits that seem to permanently surround her withim the swamps, reason why she had made this her unofficial home. Long and thin toes touch the earth, disturbing the snow in their wake, each toe like the tendril of a parasitic plant, reaching, searching. Where are you? I am here. Me too. Me too. Me too. Wheezes, whines, whimpers, voice like silk, as her incongruously large pads for the skinny legs with knobbly knees disappear like a shadow into the encroaching gloom of twilight. A swirl of pink and lavender transfigured the sky as the perishing ball of light slowly sank below the horizon, leaving behind a sliver of dark orange. And yet the twilight stole away the colours of the day until the world looked like an old black and white movie , just like the predatorix preferred.
Another.
Speech |
Pupils blown wide as the effects begin to stake their claim upon his mortal form, the male finds a wavering form approaching in the darkness. A low growl rumbled within his chest, a warning to those who dared approach him while he sought commune with the spirits. The clink and jangle of tiny bones colliding with one another served a harbinger for the witch's approach, and she seemed to have little interest in slowing her pace. There was a strange aura about her, like tendrils of a web stretching around her, hues to match her eyes, and searching vines in paler hues of silver. "hal tabhath ean albaladiat aydana?" the lilting vocals spilled from his jaws in a sultry purr, his native tongue meeting the air with little recognition to the fact that she may not speak it. A strange feeling was bubbling in his chest, one that he hadn't felt in previous instances where he partook in these mushrooms. The start of a bad trip, whether he was aware of it or not. speech |
There it was. There he was! Who was this masculine figure that dared to make use of the witch Swamps? Did he not sense the spirits malignant approach when he stepped into the mist? Did he not feel the eyes that locked onto him? The monsters and the ghouls? A sigh left the foam covered jaws of the black widow as she approached the man head on, uncaring of the dangerous situation, leaving only a few inches between them. Ah. Now it all made sense. The man was intoxicated head to toe if it was to take a gues by his eyes alone. He is weak. We can take him. GIVE HIM TO US She hook her cranium in order to ignore th voices of the spirits with her being. This was interesting. There was a small attraction to the male fore it was the first time someone intoxicated themselves in front of her using.. She nosed the air, sniffinf profoundly. Fungi. Ah, how magnificent this situation became. Those Swamps are taken. came the venom of the black widow; no matter how interesting and attractive it was she decided to hold her own ground against him. She was going to be mean first, fuck kill them with kindness, she will use her jaws if she has to.
Speech |
Look how the gathering dead flocked to her, this agent of chaos. The blue sheen of her fur and the ghostly cerulean gaze made her the perfect concubine for spirits and ghouls. Her slithering form came ever closer, bobbing and weaving in eerie fashion. She was suddenly quite close, all but nose to nose with him. Her nostrils flared to take in his scent, absorb the aroma of his intoxicants. The hiss of a deadly creature bled from her jaws. "Those Swamps are taken." she warned. Who was she to claim a conduit to the spirits? They were so limited, after all. Someone ought to teach this little witch that there were others who played these games. A low growl rumbled deep in his narrow chest, trembling in his rib cage. Jaws would part before thought could seek to impede, and he lunged forth in a display of serpentine grace and lithe musculature. Ebony jaws snaking forward in an attempt to clamp down on her snout. The leathery flesh of her nose would be the softest, the easiest to tear away and devour. Perhaps her spilled blood would invite the spirits closer. speech |
The spider witch did not know what this male thought he was doing. First, he stumbled into her lair and now he has the audacity to lash out at her? Hell hath no fury than the witch. The moment cerulean orbs caught sight of his parting jaws was the moments a thunderous snarl would erupt from the back of her throat, in warning. Did the man listen? No. It was upon the witch to put him in his place now. She kept her muscles half-tensed up as she crouched, watching him spring towards her. Ears lay pinned against her skull and her parted ebony lips quivered in anticipation of the collision that was to come. As he came swerving in front of her, Cordelia swung her hindquarters sharply to her own left such that she was perpendicular to him, while her cranium snapped towards the right, fangs parted as she counted fang for fang his intention to catch her muzzle. As she intended to meet his bite with her own, she felt his teeth graze her muzzle, but lightly. Having dodged out of Anubis's way through her pivioting. Her hindlimbs dug into the ground for leverage, claws digging into the ground for support and in countermeasure, she purposefully thrust her own chest out in an attempt to meet his own and produce some sort of damage to the tissues she hoped to find there. Cordelia vs Anubis for DOMINANCE Round 1/2 Size: 36 inches Build: Light Offensive Accessory: Bone Bracelets Defensive Accessory: N/A Companion 1: N/A Companion 2: N/A Mutation: N/A Fight Skill Level: Intermediate Specialty: N/A Speech |