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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    [mature]  it was a blood-soaked feast that never ceased -- deathwish
    #4
    Deathwish
    im a DIY pioneer, they tryna get involved

    Deathwish does not turn as he speaks - the hard angle of his body as he presses himself into her, biting her and pressing those dangerous kisses he knows she loves so well. Quite, she shivers under his touch, her eyes rolling back into her head as she raises her head, looking up into the trees. Her ears go back and her tail instinctively goes up, pulled up and to the side. "You're bad, Maugrim." She whispers hotly, breathy moans as she feels the familiar sensations that only he's been able to give her.

    The cold of the salt water and the way it singes her skin, she is singing for him as she hisses his name over and over again. Are you not bored? He says. Not anymore, she thinks. Not with the bruises she'd sustain from this round of touching and pulling. The company is terrible, I should know. And then, she squeals, pulling back and turning to face him.

    Deathwish was not quick enough, however. That little bird, alive by her hand, dangling helplessly and being taken away from her. Maugrim's eyes are flashing, and he's still dripping wet with the bird in his mouth. The grey pearlescent woman sidles up to her green tormentor, her eyes flashing, "Jealous, are we lover?" Of a little bird?" She immediately reverses the rot process, releasing the moisture from his little red body with a mere zip of her abilities.

    "It doesn't look good on you. Give me back my dead thing."

    She stands, looking annoyed at him, torn between wanting to kill him immediately, and wanting to take him again. Her eyes dart to to the mark she left on his chest. Her mark. "The island has its benefits," she drawls out. "Lots of things to kill. Lots of places to hide. Lots of family members to torture. And lots of water to satiate a certain green man I know and hate."

    She stares, still looking at the bird clenched between his teeth.

    "Give me back my dead thing, or maybe I might have to loathe you more than I already do. Besides, didn't you come here for something specific? You never come here simply for daily pleasantries" Deathwish keeps her face even. She wants to hate him. She wants to kill him.

    She wants him to take her and love her instead.

    yippee kiyay ahh yea, bout to set it off
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    RE: it was a blood-soaked feast that never ceased -- deathwish - by Deathwish - 12-21-2017, 02:34 PM



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