ecclesia
The two toned brute swept across the plateau with the sway of lean hips and a smooth gait. Cranium held aloft, tail flagging out behind him, he moved easily under cover of darkness. He was looking for them. None too soon after his arrival, he'd picked up the scent of his kin. They were here, lingering just out of sight. It was his mission now to find them, reunite with them. Those who had survived the famine, those who had left before their parents were even fully dead. He longed for the familiarity and closeness. Angular bodice roved deeper into the vast plain, until a hulking goliath of metal reared up before him. The long dead humans would have called it a tank, but they weren't around to tell him that. Curious, the male rose up onto his hind legs and braced his forepaws upon its smooth flank. Rust flaked away under his paws. Bunching the corded musculature of his thighs, the serpent sprung upward to land upon the flat front half. From this perch, he could see further than before. Not to mention, the metal still retained the previous day's heat. With a contented rumble, the male flexed his toes against the warm, dark metal underfoot. It soothed his pawpads after a long day of walking. The long spire that protruded from the upper half of the strange beast was pointed out to the south, where the rest of the body faced west. He padded across the flat expanse upon which he'd leapt, and carefully scaled the raised dias. A strange opening in this portion revealed a gaping expanse of darkness. The monochrome male crouched down to stick his head into the unknown abyss. The stench of metal and rotting leather greeted him instantly. An abrupt sneeze wracked his form. That was disgusting. He wasn't interested in stinking of rot and rust for the rest of the week. Instead, he leapt back down to the flat half of the gargantuan beast. There, he reclined on the warm metal to absorb the remaining heat. Lounging there, sphynx style, it was impossible to deny the regality that exuded from every fibre of him. Icy gaze slid shut in contentment. THE SCREAMING, HEAVING, FUCKERY OF THE WORLD? |
| Lines by xzazu2002 |
With grit teeth the alabaster stained she wolf hesitated, refusing for a long moment to even acknowledge her only full blooded brother. They had been so close once, him, Ana, herself, (and Aeona?) Things changed so much when Hannibal was crowned successor that Belle couldn’t be sure that her relationship with Roman would be salvageable. They’d been civil enough to attend to their parent’s burial, but that day hadn’t been about them.
Why did Roman have to suddenly show up? Her icy interior melted with fiery anger as she began to blame him for the pain that had suddenly welled up inside her. As she turned to go, unwilling to allow him to see her so worked up over the mere sight of him, she thought of Ana again. They hadn’t completely settled their differences either. Now they would never be able to.
A dark paw paused, and reluctantly the Klein royal paced towards the odd object her brother lounged upon. Halting only a few wolf lengths away she took another full glance over him, sure that any moment his gaze would open to greet her. For the first time in a long time, the woman was at a loss for words.
Deathbelle wears a rosebud tiara that is not shown in her art.
The stars winked in and out of sight above, the sky clear save for a few wisps of dark cloud. Pale as a ghost, the full moon shone down upon the plateau. He heard the rustle of approaching paws through the scraggly grass only as they became close. Whoever was approaching was upwind, and he couldn't detect their scent. Instead, they were getting the full brunt of his musk. Lazily, cool gaze swept open to fix upon whoever was approaching. Dark fur, spattered in.. alabaster. Deathbelle. The serpents heart seized for a few, horrible moments. When it did elect to beat properly again, it felt strange. Jittery. A breeze ruffled the ebon stained fur along his spine. The pair stared blankly at one another, waiting for the other to make the first move. Deathbelle wouldn't deign to utter a word first, her pride was somehow more steadfast than his own. He didn't dare move a muscle, for fear of scaring her off like a startled doe. "Belle," he rumbled, rich baritones oddly deep for his narrow frame. Where did he begin? What did he say? It all used to be so easy, between them. Then Hannibal had been named heir, and she had blindly followed him. Stomped on his heart and left it in the dust to bleed. "you look good." he said finally. Eerily devoid of emotion, cold. Vacant words from an empty ribcage. THE SCREAMING, HEAVING, FUCKERY OF THE WORLD? |
| Lines by xzazu2002 |
”You look good.”
The statement startled her slightly, she had become unused to his blunt way of speaking. The princess smoothed herself, again feeling apprehension at direct conflict. She blinked, and saw Ana’s sweet face, and knew she had to start making amends. Swallowing her pride might be the hardest part of coming to peace with Roman.. and their sister’s spirit.
”Roman Umbra,” She used his first two names in a much more formal manner than was necessary. This was the part she fell back into easily, speaking overly-proper because Roman couldn’t speak at all. ”Your appearance is pleasing, as well.” She echoed, he did look better than when she had left. Not that he had been near his best at that point. Belle felt her ears fall to her skull. She felt the need to fix things between them, but she couldn’t begin to imagine how.
The Klein princess tried to hide behind her icy exterior, but it was near impossible with her litter mate. She couldn’t help but let the turmoil within slip over her features.
Deathbelle wears a rosebud tiara that is not shown in her art.
As if in direct retaliation to his fond use of a nickname, she used his full name. It was a slap in the face, but he swallowed his anger. He wouldn't let his temper get in the way of their reunion. They hadn't seen each other in nearly a year, certainly. The brute could remember vividly the last time he'd laid eyes on her. She'd been balding and ragged with starvation, every vertebrae in her spine standing in stark relief against her dark pelt. They'd swept the last of the soil over their parents' corpses, and their bodies were swathed in dirt. She hadn't shed a tear. Stoic and proud, even in their darkest hour. ”Your appearance is pleasing, as well.” Features twisted into a scowl, one lip curling to flash an ivory fang. It faded when he noted the glassiness of her eyes, quickly blinked away. The soft fall of her dark auds against her delicate skull. Something was wrong. Dare he ask? They'd parted on dire terms, all but cutting ties entirely. He hesitated, a nearly fatal mistake under any circumstances. "I'm glad you're not dead," he finally grunted, gaze flicking to the horizon to avoid meeting hers. He dared not reveal the softness that lay there, the painful desire to hug her to his chest and cry into her dark fur. Seeing her again brought it all rushing back. Weeks of cruel, gnawing hunger. Hamiclar, desperate to retain order in the kingdom as his people dropped like flies. Sweet Ana, his beloved orchid. Throughout their youth she'd always been so effortlessly regal, retaining her composure no matter the situation. She'd stayed strong to see Jax buried, despite the emptiness in her gaze from the famine that had felled her well before the younger Klein. She'd stood strong at his grave. There had been no one to comfort Roman when it had been her in the ground, barely a week later. "I'd hate to bury another sister." he said softly, maintaining his attention on the strange spire of rock in the distance. It jutted from the landscape, out of place against the distant rolling hills. Did Deathbelle still grieve their losses? Or had she cast it away, as no doubt her beloved Hannibal had. THE SCREAMING, HEAVING, FUCKERY OF THE WORLD? |
| Lines by xzazu2002 |
”I’m glad you’re not dead.”
It was her turn to grunt as she watched his pale blue eyes shift to anywhere but her form. The cool of the spring night wasn’t enough to smother the building hot frustration lingering beneath her surface. Deathbelle was a mess of regret, anger, and sorrow. She wondered briefly if he might have felt the same way.
”I'd hate to bury another sister.”
It was her turn to bristle with his words. Her hackles raised and she narrowed her gaze, grinding her teeth as she spoke behind them. Was he trying to use the loss of their sister against her? He didn’t seem accusatory, his his eyes held firmly away from her he almost seemed disinterested. She blinked back tears of sorrow and anger.
”I didn’t get to tell her I was sorry.” She managed to whisper, desperate to see his gaze. ”I know she’d want me to say it to you.” She swallowed hard, her pride and her emotions. Belle tried hard to humble herself before her brother, she pictured their lost sister vividly. ”I’m sorry.” Though the words were barely a murmur on the breeze they held all of the raw emotion that had been suppressed inside since the day she left him.
Deathbelle wears a rosebud tiara that is not shown in her art.
The abrupt shift in her stance, at the periphery of his vision, drew his gaze back to her darkened form. She was bristling like a wet cat, jaw clenched in a picturesque display of incandescent fury. Then, just as quickly as it had come, it was gone. Replaced by a shock of sorrow across her regal facade. Deathbelle couldn't blink away the glassiness in her eyes this time, and the moonlight caught crystalline tears as they dripped down her cheeks. His heart pulled again, desperate to reassure her. No. He needed to stand firm. Figure out what she was playing at. Was it a game, a manipulation? Or was she sincere. He needed to know, or she'd know he was still unbearably weak when it came to blood. He glanced away again. Stared daggers at the strange spire of rock in the distance, and let it become his anchor- lest he be pulled into the stream of emotions that would ultimately drown him. ”I didn’t get to tell her I was sorry.” she breathed the words like a prayer, and they slipped across his flesh like sweet nothings. He'd waited so long to share his suffering with someone. It was all too good to be true, right? She had been so devoted to Hannibal, to following his ascension. What changed? ”I know she’d want me to say it to you.” her voice was barely a whisper, almost inaudible. Yet, he felt each syllable seared into his brain. He'd relish this forever. The knowledge that, perhaps, there was hope for them. For him. ”I’m sorry.” raw desperation clogged her vocals, turned them ragged. His attention snapped to her masked features, finally drinking them in. The beginnings of a tender, sorrowful smile toyed at his inky lips. Dark brows pulled together as he rose to his paws, gaze never once leaving hers. Chiselled physique bathed in the moonlight, a veritable Adonis swathed in the night. His body moved without instruction, leaping from the body of the rusted tank so that he could crowd in close. Feel the softness of her fur -how drastic a change from when they'd parted- and taste the tears on her cheeks as he dared attempt to caress the plush fur with his rosy tongue. "She knows," rumbling baritones softened to a whispery croon. "even in her last moments, she felt only love for you, for all of us." he promised gently, seeking to press against her right side with his own form. Perhaps if he lingered there long enough, their bodies would meld together. His larger frame, all sharp angles where hers was soft curves, fitting neatly against her. "You never needed to speak a word, Belle. She knew it all along." Ebony cloaked neck would seek to crane over her shoulders and tuck her slender neck under his throat and chin. "Nothing will tear us apart, ever again." He would destroy Hannibal before he would let the Klein heir tear him away from his beloved sister, and that was the gospel that resonated deep in his soul. THE SCREAMING, HEAVING, FUCKERY OF THE WORLD? |
| Lines by xzazu2002 |
Mismatched ears remained pinned to her head as she watched the hint of a smile linger on his lips. Belle couldn’t decide what the expression meant as her brother’s body shifted. Deathbelle stiffened at his approach, never letting her eyes leave his own as he closed the short distance between them. She didn’t move as he suddenly surrounded her.
For another moment she was stiff, unsure of the affection he so eagerly offered. When she felt his tongue on her cheek the Klein woman submitted to him fully. Her royal form leaned into his touch as he enveloped her frame, the tears would stream down her face fully as she came to terms with how much mourning she still had to do. Belle buried her face in the thick fur of her brother’s neck as he whispered softly to her.
He assured her of Ana’s love, and even if she’d hadn’t vocalized those same words to their lost sibling she had known the whole time. Though the words comforted the princess, Belle felt her sobs increase. She wanted so badly to wrap Ana up in her affections, to go back and save their sister from her terrible fate. That was impossible though. Ana was gone, but she left with love filling her heart.
”Nothing will tear us apart, ever again.”
Deathbelle pushed herself against Roman’s form, if she could get any closer she would have. Tears streamed down her face as she clung to him like she hadn’t since they were very young. ”Thank you, Roma.” She murmured into the black fur of his neck, using an old nickname she didn’t think would ever fall from her lips again.
Despite being so sure their relationship would never be the same she clung to him like their quarrel had never happened. She didn’t know where the future would take them, but she knew Ana would have approved of their reconciliation. Deathbelle felt a peace settle about her. Their sister’s spirit was appeased.
Deathbelle wears a rosebud tiara that is not shown in her art.
Tension in her slender form jammed shoulder blades and elbows into his svelte ribs. He held fast for a moment, and once she leaned her weight against his body, he curled his tail around her rump. Harsh, hiccuping sobs wracked her body. He carefully laved his tongue over her features, clearing away each tear as it tumbled free of her eyes. The more he spoke, the harder she pushed into him for comfort. Carefully, he lowered his rump to the ground. He was more stable now, and could take the brunt of her weight even if she chose to collapse entirely. His right forepaw lifted, crossing over his chest to grasp at her gently. Gentle, soothing sounds whispered past dark lips as he attempted to appease her. When her face pressed into his neck, he adjusted his own neck so he could tuck her delicate skull beneath his chin. ”Thank you, Roma.” A contented hum rumbled through his narrow chest, pale gaze sliding shut. "I only speak the truth, Belle." he murmured tenderly, still holding her tight with his forepaw. It was hooked around her left elbow, pulling her into a half-assed embrace until she decided whether or not she wanted to remain. Across the backs of his eyelids, the familiar wasteland of home flashed brightly. Once lush and welcoming, it had become no more than drought ridden scrubland by the time he'd gone. It had been under that barren soil they'd left their dead. He prayed that one day their graves would be overrun by wildflowers and verdant greenery again. Something worthy of the ones he loved. "I miss them." he muttered softly, daring to risk his own emotions spilling over alongside his sister. "I wish they could see this place, see us." it was something he wasn't about to admit in the light of day, but here, under the watchful eye of the moon, he felt safe. Deathbelle was here, and he could tell the truth. He wanted his mother back. He wanted Ana. Roman wanted his family whole again. THE SCREAMING, HEAVING, FUCKERY OF THE WORLD? |
| Lines by xzazu2002 |
”I miss them.”
He took the words right from her mind as the faces of those they lost appeared in her mind. "Me too." Sweet Ana, who had always followed Roman the closest. Their mother, who encouraged all of them to work their hardest to become as great as the name they bore. Their father, the great leader of the Klein family. A great King and better father, despite all of his children had given her so many personal lessons when she asked to be taught to fight.
"I wish they could see this place, see us."
”They’d tell us to stop crying, and get to work on rebuilding the empire.” She cried and managed a little humor at the same time, a smile on her lips. Belle had never been one to rely on her brother’s for safety, but being here in his arms made her feel at home.
Deathbelle wears a rosebud tiara that is not shown in her art.
ooc. sorry for the wait, life has exploded once again D: His sister mirrored his sentiments, though far softer than his own brash declarations. No less emphatic, but.. wistful, instead of pining. At his admission, Belle seemed amused. "They’d tell us to stop crying, and get to work on rebuilding the empire." she pointed out oh so helpfully, and he rumbled thoughtfully. Machinations began to roil to the forefront of his mind. Was Hannibal here, as he suspected? Perhaps now was the time to overthrow the absentee heir, and take his rightful place on the pedestal instead. "You're very right, dear sister." he mused aloud. The battle would be brutal, he may be forced to kill the man. Would he be able to do it? Fratricide. The word had a cruel ring, and left a metallic, acidic taste on the back of his tongue. He wasn't sure he had the heart to commit the crime, not yet. Perhaps he ought to play this smart, observe as he used to. Linger on the fringes and play the part of dutiful follower. Until the time was right. Then... he'd take what was rightfully his. Tear it from Hannibal's flesh if need be. Rend it from bones and carve it into tender pink skin, but leave the mangled specter for all to witness. Yes, he'd do that. He'd prove himself, and destroy trust in the man from within the family. "On that note, let's leave this place. I think there are better places than this to catch up, don't you?" he offered with a soft, warm smile. Cautiously, he sought to stand, release her from his tender embrace. If she was willing, he would lead her to the East. Perhaps they'd find something of note there, he hadn't spent enough time in the area to get a full idea of it in his mind. .:Roman -- Exitus?:. THE SCREAMING, HEAVING, FUCKERY OF THE WORLD? |
| Lines by xzazu2002 |
She blinked the tears from her eyes as he suggested they keep moving. Belle nodded into his fur before pulling away reluctantly. It just felt so good to have the support of her family again, even if there was only the two of them for now. ”You’re right.” She sniffled with a soft smile as she followed him. He’d take her east, hopefully to find more of their kin.
-exit belle-
Deathbelle wears a rosebud tiara that is not shown in her art.