DEATH ON A QUEEN-SIZED BED
09-01-2014, 07:26 PM
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? after facing the A B A N D O N M E N T of her own kin, it is no wonder that the carnage queen houses the overwhelming urge for possession. such desires are fervent, compelling, and the phantom has been made aware of the exact { and slightly unorthodox } method of fulfillment -- such a strategic scheme that not even she had yet committed previously, and one she harbors trepidation towards. and yet, her aspiration is one that must be slaked for the sake of progression, and for the sake of security -- she must produce a successor, an elysius. but she is no common harlot that willingly spreads her legs at the whims of men; she is a tyrant queen, bound by the genetics of supremacy and enticed by the prospect of familial advancement. and if it must be from her own womb that the proceeding generation of ruthless mercenaries emerge, then she must stoop so low as to willingly bend beneath man to spawn such superior creatures -- she must willingly conceive alacritia?s future tyrants. yet she knows not where to scavenge for the tools of procreation, her desperation none too great to force drastic measures upon herself. thus, she has no need to adopt the sultry demeanor of a lecherous concubine, her movements as powerful and domineering as is typical -- indifference plastered to her marred visage as robust limbs propel her through the various regions of the south. there is naught to captivate her rare interest but the compacted foliage surrounding her, barricading her impressive physique from the view of the forest?s occupants as well as obscuring those she might have encountered from her own view. and yet, her strides are strategically made with the intent to divert attention unto herself, each paw step amplified as she purposely tramples upon fallen leaves and stray branches alike, ears careening atop the skewed slopes of her crown in an attempt to locate any wandering { poor } souls that might serve their purpose towards her selfish cause. |
09-05-2014, 05:41 PM
The ebony beast has been gone for far too long. He had left Alacritis for a few seasons, mainly to find weaker wolves to manipulate and destory, but once Nausica had vanished, he had gone on a mad man hunt to find her. After weeks of sleepless searching, her scent trail had gone stale, and he no longer had a clue to work with. With his favorite sister gone he had no choice but to return to Alacritis and reunite with Cascade. He wondered where she was now, he desired to be with her, and he wanted to protect her like he had tried to protect Nausica. One day the two would find their long lost sister, but until then, he had some unfinished business with the wolves in Alacritis. Plots of revenge brewed heavily within his brain, he still needed to avenge his fathers death and slay the woman named Jupiter. He was old enough now to put his life down without a second thought, all fears having left his mind, his conscious being replaced with the commands of the demons beneath his paws. Cascade's scent is very faint, but with the help of Mevia he will be able to track her down, whither it takes a few hours, or a few days. He enters the lands in the southern region of Alactis, his snakelike movements unheard, and his massive body unseen by those around them. The duo travels silently, his mind plagued with the overwhelming desire to see his sister. It is not until he has reached the heart of the shrine that he hears the thundering sound of paw steps against the earth, each of them precise as he could hear the crunching of leaves and twigs. It was as if the stranger wanted to be heard, and immediately his curiosity began to beg for release. Amethyst eyes slide toward Mevia, she too could hear the steps and was drawn toward them. A silent agreement is exchanged between them, and they both turn to approach the stranger, whom is only yards from them now. They aim to approach the stranger head on. A few seconds pass as they stride forward, his body language screaming supremacy. A white figure comes into view, and as his eyes adjust, he is shocked to see the former Elysius tyrant standing before him. Although he cannot remember her name, he remembers the day he had trespassed into her territory when he was sick with the plague. "Well, well, well, what a coincidence, miss Elysius." Venomous words slip from his cracked maw, his lips creasing ever so slightly to form the beginning stage of a smirk. |
09-07-2014, 03:56 PM
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? her pursuer is terror personified, accented in barbed embellishments and lavished in rugged musculature that only stresses his behemoth physique. and she is the smaller -- the petite { in comparison to he } -- adorned in her arsenal of lacerations as she harbors the framework of the naturally impressive, each curve of sinewy muscle discernable through her pallid coat. yet, despite her obvious corporeal disadvantages over the hound, the phantom deity remains wholly unfazed by his looming presence, disinterest laden upon her disfigured countenance as she regards him with a vacant gaze. robust appendages cease to propel her any further as the monstrosity lays waste to the distance that separates them until naught but mere feet linger between, poise retaining its immaculacy with her skull ascended high above the remainder of her serpentine spinal cord and her tail held in level alignment with the ground below. abstract gaze ravages his own striking amethyst eyes and immediately recognition grows prominent; it had been he who had dared to invade upon the elysius? domain when she had first seized her crown from the former valhallan queen -- when she had been an ambitious youth and he had been a whimpering boy. it is made evident to the tyrant queen that her brutish companion is aware of her identity, her supreme surname cascading from lips bewitched into a devious smirk as he addresses her with venomous tones. and yet, the phantom maintains an indifferent guise as she allows her thoughts to waver to her initial mission, avid pupils haphazardly trailing his gargantuan form as she contemplates giving purpose to their inadvertent encounter. there is no denying his supreme genetics and how they might intertwine with her own quite perfectly; however, the tyrant must know if he possesses even the faintest iota of competence. ?hardly,? is the monotonous retort that infiltrates the silence of their surroundings, a singular brow quirking upon her scarred forehead as curiosity encumbers her features. ?shouldn?t you be off playing coward and preying upon the weak?? she inquires strategically, the bitterness over her brother?s unfair assault evident in the biting tones of her poisonous sentiment. ?-- or have you finally grown enough of a backbone to play fair?? she croons, her incent to provoke subtle enough to avoid suspicion. no -- the deity knows what game she is playing, and she will play it well if she is to obtain what she ultimately desires from this fated interaction. |