[mature] FLASH. Give me joy. Give me fun. Give me love. [Gryffen]

[Scyla]

I'm an invisible monster, and I'm incapable of loving anybody. You don't know which is worse. She needed to let the stress out. Between Dahmer's missing, and return. The babysitting of Smoak, Scyla's life had gone from footloose and feather free to trying hard to fit into a kingdom and a social hierarchy that Scyla had never developed skills for. Maybe Dahmer was right and her social skills needed work. The party had sounded like a good idea, and she watched in wonderment as food manifested itself from the soil, and that flowers came dancing out, braiding themselves. Her eyes widen, watching with merriment and laughter erupted from her mouth. She danced back from the apples coming towards her. Delicate pink nostrils flared and she picks up the apple, crunching quickly. The taste was tart, and there was a distinct buzz to them. Fermented. She watches the walking lettuce before dancing away from them, and making her way over to the flower crowns. Quickly she scooped one onto her crown, made mainly with black eyed susans. The bright colors only emphasized her sticking out from the yellows and browns of the golden forest. She was the white flame for the moths, and though the mind was broken, her own body was still pristine. The white priestess while the monster lurked beneath the glossy exterior. She watches the others, dancing, drunk on the mirth and the smell of the season upon them all. The invisible monster was a virgin, no one had dared to tempt the beast within in her, to breach the walls of her ramblings. Instead they kept her at arms length except her beloved Dahmer who could never truly leave her mind. She suddenly missed her brother and wished he could see the joy here. There was still beauty and happiness in the world! If only he could see it! But the Dark God that he had made her promise to leave alone had stolen his boyish grins, and replaced them with a solemn, broken man. Scyla would tear his immortal throat from his neck if she could. She would watch him gasp as the blood flooded his lungs, and listen as the heart beat faster and faster until the muscles were too weak to continue, and the oxygen gone from his blood. She would cut him open to watch his intestines writh on the ground like snakes. She would peel the skin from his muscle so that he understood how raw he had made her Dahmer. Lost in thought, she runs into Gryffen at the gatherings edge. She squeals in anger, and staggers back, the alcohol in her system making her unsteady. Damn the apples. She realizes quickly that it was her host that she bumped into him. "My apologies. I'm not used to the apples and my mind was...elsewhere." She wouldn't reveal her dark fantasies, the ectasy pumping in her veins from envisioning the death of Carnage. Perhaps she should continue to make polite conversation but she was never a particular sociable creature. Instead her eyes wander towards the masses again, still enamored with the idea of the festival.

@[Gryffen] Permission for rape, and as much blood/wounds as you want as long as nothing truly life threatening!

[Gryffen]

a ghost in the darkness.

There’s a growing need in him, fermenting and spreading like a wild fungus. Plenty of partygoers submit to his needs willingly, spreading themselves and inviting him to pillage their depths. He is a King and he holds power, it is not surprising. There’s only so many doe eyed squealing girls he can take. He wants resistance, he wants to feel his power over them. So when she bumps into him, drunk and not paying attention, he flexes his ability and slips into her heart. Draws out that which she desires most.

The broken man he becomes is unknown to him. He doesn’t know why the stallion's wing that now graces his back is so battered, where the wounds came from. However he gets the word brother and it’s enough to go on. To play his game. The mare isn’t paying attention, her glazed eyes searching the masses. By the time she looks back to him, the white stallion is no more and it is Dahmer gazing unsmilingly back at her. ”Sister.” Dahmer’s voice breathes, dripping in sarcasm. "You desire me?"

There are no other words as “Dahmer” suddenly comes closer to her, starting in what seems like a normal embrace. An embrace that lingers as his muzzle runs gently against her neck, as lips begin to press soft kisses against supple skin. If she tries to pull away, he only tightens his grip. Then suddenly his kisses are frenzied, finding her lips as he pushes her against a tree. His touch becomes more inappropriate, moving lower and further but making sure she can’t get away, trapped between himself and the trees.

Nobody notices, too busy in their own debauchery. Nobody notices when Dahmer forces her face into the brush and explores the most intimate parts of her. The more she protests and fights, the more aroused he becomes. Nobody notices when the broken black stallion mounts her back. Nobody notices when Dahmer covets his sister and claims her as his own. His teeth sink deeply into her back, leaving marks along her flesh as he rocks within her. His grip is tight around her barrel, not caring if he causes her pain. Her resistance had built him up quickly and he does not last long. With a sigh of satisfaction, he finally slips from her. Placing a sharp nip on her rump as he mutters. ”Well worth it dear sister.” Then he slips between the crowd, lost in the masses, fading from the black stallion to the red eyed ghost once more.

Gryffen

@[Scyla]