I GOT RAGE EVERY DAY; ON THE INSIDE The scent of war, lingering on the edges of a pack territory. It was nothing catastrophic, but there was bloodshed and rage in the air. The beast lingered nearby, hoping to cash in on the chaos. A fight, a slave, perhaps even a deal. Many were eager to sell themselves, in hopes that the golden deity would be kind. Mostly, they were. Every now and again, there was one unruly mongrel, who was slaughtered or maimed as they pleased. The old days called, and the godling longed for their spoils to be returned. Sucking mud clung to their toes. Each alabaster digit was slathered in dark ooze. It darkened their pelt, spattered their belly. Muck made for a fantastic camouflage. Mismatched gaze remained level, low slung skull scanning over the surroundings. Hunger pulled at their guts, a different kind than usual. They sought an underling, a servant. Only the strong came to places like this. Here, the beast would find no slaves to take. Rather, they would find partners. Lovers or deal makers. The pitiful would not survive the depressive aura of this bog. Dark nostrils would lower to the muck, seeking out a scent. What kinds of prey would be here? Birds lurked in the trees, they could hear the trilling and chirping overhead. Mice? Their tiny paws would move over this terrain easily, given their minuscule size. A low sigh would slip over their teeth, and they continued on their path across the marshland. "speech" ALL I DO IS SIT AROUND AND KILL TIME

He strode into the land, a hint of the war recent in his nostrils. His sunset eyes were on the path ahead. His children were not scented in this so the cause of the war was yet unknown to him. Though he could guess. His guesses would likely be wrong though. His feet were coated with muck within minutes but he didn't mind. He push on, a hunger gnawed at him, though not one that would be saited buy food. Rather this was a more primal urge. To dominate. To breed. To impregnate. Yet he wanted no children. After all he wasn't in love with anyone. It would stay that way too.

He stopped about fifteen feet from a sight that might make many think twice but Sam only watched. His interest was peaked. There before him stood a behemoth male that matched his size and bulk easily. Not many that he knew of could do so. His tail swished slowly as he eyed him. He was figuring the man out. He was already highly aroused before he stumbled onto this male and his scent portrayed such. He finally opened up his mouth. His voice was deep and velvety on the ears. "Well, well, well, and who have we here?" There was genuine curiosity in his voice though he didn't really care for the man's name in all honestly.

YOUNG AND A MENACE

The scent of another betrayed his presence. All piqued arousal and confidence. Mismatched gaze would flick upwards, and find itself trapping a giant. This was, without a doubt, one of the lesser gods of the area. Large as Amon, and just as muscular. He wore a mask of ebony, shaped as the skeletal remains of a lupine cranium. He was scarred and marked, a dark thing. As much was obvious, but it was clear the man failed to care. Velvety tongue would escape the confines of their jaws to caress their muzzle. A beast to be ridden, one that would buck and snarl magnificently. Surely he would fuck like a dream, on the other hand. They would play his game.

Brow would quirk in wordless question, powerful neck raising the deity's crown. The man's deep baritone would ooze from his lips, saccharine and threatening. Demanding, in much finer words, who he was meeting. The golden godling would chuckle, the sound rumbling from deep within their chest. They would not bow, nor grovel. Size meant nothing, neither did bulk. The beast respected none. Not now, not ever.

"You stand before Kaine Abraxas, descendant of the Fallen God." They would reply just as smoothly, debonair smile upturning their lips reflexively. Turning on the charm was instinctive, especially in scenarios such as this. "You are?" They asked, feet lifting from the sucking mud to face the other head on. Caked in muck, the deity likely appeared to be anything but divine. Anyone to say otherwise would be slaughtered, of course. Predatory gaze would linger upon the other's form, admiring as much as it judged.

"speech"


I THINK THAT GOD IS GONNA HAVE TO KILL ME TWICE