Devils Back Bitches
05-13-2014, 11:00 AM
DISCLAIMER: This is Creedance. This thread will have cursing in it. (Obvs, by the title.) He is violent. Not above challenging for whatever he wants. I don't guarantee it to happen, but he's rather unpredictable. CHAOTIC EVIL.
It was as if the last two years had never happened. The white devil couldn't remember them, and it was like he had been dropped in some waste land. What in the hell was this place? It reeked of packs and wolves, pathetic animals- sheep lining up for slaughter. He had left his home, and fought through hell for Amaranth, and yet he couldn't scent her. She had to be dead, and even her ghost wouldn't waste her time in a wasteland like this. His prowled, his body always braced for attack along the banks of the rushing river. The blood roared in his ears, the ivory audits flattened against his skull. Gums curled up in a snarl, the slew of curses that left his maw with every paw-step would have caused Satan himself to blush with embarrassment. Creedance Voltaire was back, in the same dark capacity that he truly had first embarked on the land- not that he could remember it. In his mind, this is how everything had always been. He'd spent the last week going from shore to shore- anger surging through him as he realized that he was nearly trapped. Getting away from this hell-hole wasn't going to be easy, so while he was stuck here- he supposed he could wreak havoc. What else could the demon do?
Angry at his lack of memory- the blackness that over took his mind every time he tried to remember the last couple of years. Years that he knew were gone, though he couldn't place how or why- he would plant his seeds of revenge. Someone here had to have caused this, and he would find them and make them pay- even if he had to eat the souls of every fool to dare stand in his way. He would bring this world to its knees.
It was as if the last two years had never happened. The white devil couldn't remember them, and it was like he had been dropped in some waste land. What in the hell was this place? It reeked of packs and wolves, pathetic animals- sheep lining up for slaughter. He had left his home, and fought through hell for Amaranth, and yet he couldn't scent her. She had to be dead, and even her ghost wouldn't waste her time in a wasteland like this. His prowled, his body always braced for attack along the banks of the rushing river. The blood roared in his ears, the ivory audits flattened against his skull. Gums curled up in a snarl, the slew of curses that left his maw with every paw-step would have caused Satan himself to blush with embarrassment. Creedance Voltaire was back, in the same dark capacity that he truly had first embarked on the land- not that he could remember it. In his mind, this is how everything had always been. He'd spent the last week going from shore to shore- anger surging through him as he realized that he was nearly trapped. Getting away from this hell-hole wasn't going to be easy, so while he was stuck here- he supposed he could wreak havoc. What else could the demon do?
Angry at his lack of memory- the blackness that over took his mind every time he tried to remember the last couple of years. Years that he knew were gone, though he couldn't place how or why- he would plant his seeds of revenge. Someone here had to have caused this, and he would find them and make them pay- even if he had to eat the souls of every fool to dare stand in his way. He would bring this world to its knees.
05-13-2014, 11:36 AM
Wars swirled in his mind, a battle to remember versus a battle to forget. Red haze enveloped his pristine brain, driving out all reason with a surge of pure madness. Though lost in his world of madness and darkness, he did not miss the scent of an intruder to his space. Cerulean and orange eyes would seek out the intruder, audits pinning back as he heard a growl, not a challenge of dominance more of an alert. A returning snarl, reverberated in his throat, as he turned towards her. An ebony colored woman, dared intrude upon him. Was she insane? His shoulders rolled forward, claws digging into the ground, but he didn't launch himself towards her. No, it had been a long while since he had scented the delights of a woman. His ears ticked forward in interest, her sweet scent filling in the confines of his nose.
A purring noise would rumble in his throat, though his body was charged with madness. He would speak, his voice dangerously low, sultry almost. "Who dares to come into my presence?" He questioned, before answering, nearly making it rhetoric. "An ebony babe, a creature of the dark." Though he left room for her to speak, to announce herself, introduce herself as who she was. "Is she insane or a delight to behold? Someone to defile or someone to revel with me in the darkness, the madness?" Words were rough, and even the madness could not deny his curiosity.