07-28-2017, 12:58 AM
THANA.
(as black as your soul)
Pay mine.
Oh, how he longed for death and decay – just as she did!
She is giddy and quaking with delight, with a delicate flame lit within the darkness that had so wholly consumed the entirety of her soul. It traverses the slender length of her body, crawling into the tender marrow of her bones, eliciting a tingling shiver across the surface of her prickling nerve endings.
He had hungered for her, his body flush against hers while the paleness of his mouth fed ravenously on the indigo mottling of her on – tasting the enthrallment that lingered there, amidst the dried sweat that lay across the surface. But she had hungered for something more than the carnal desire that festered and tempted her – sex was sex; it would sate her but only for a moment in time – but the simple, unadulterated bloodlust that washed over her like the thickness of salty seafoam held so much more promise for pleasure.
She had trembled in anticipation when he had urged her on, feeding into the insatiable unkindness that filled her to the brim, provoking the voracious beast that yearned to have its darker, more insidious appetite fulfilled. The sex could wait until the sickeningly sweet metallic stench of blood melded with her own perspiration; it could wait until every fiber of her being felt satisfied with the expiry of another – however temporary such satiation might be.
She wasted no time, weaving through the thicket with deft refinement – she is slim, slender, and yet lined with heavy muscle along her haunches, where the indigo of her silhouette fades into the very same blackness of the impenetrable copse of trees. Her breath is quiet, but quick, as her agile limbs carry her through the woodland with ease – and a low, echoing cry causes her to still, to become silent – with baited breath. When it rings a second time, reverberating off the foliage overhead, she is rife with enthusiasm.
Her dark gaze – two-toned, one a dull and dreary gray, the other as dark as the blackness surrounding her – peers into the shadows, admiring the lurking figure of another. Ivory, with vivid, gleaming eyes of crimson fire, glittering dangerously. A wry smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth, and stealthily, she weaves on until a small but densely encapsulate clearing appears, with a sweat-slickened female in a pool of her own blood, with a small bundle of blackness wrapped in a slick and unbroken sac.
Weak, fragile - an easy target, to be certain, but she knew it would take a callous heart to cause such grievous harm to a euphoric, fatigue-ridden mother – to cause trauma to a freshly birthed, newborn draped in his own afterbirth – and with nimble movements, she rises up onto her hind legs, aiming with skillful precision for the skull of the winged female – momentarily knocking her unconscious.
She does not wait for her to come to – beside her, her newborn is whimpering for her, its sac broken and clinging tightly to the sharp ridges and edges of his gangly body, and Thana cannot conceal her satisfaction. ”Watch, little one – watch your mother die before you – such a weak little thing, she is,” she croons, brushing her mouth over the crest of his spine.
All the while, her mind is willfully drawing a thick and large boulder into the air with her telekinesis – no less than five feet in diameter, hovering it over the lifeless body of the nameless nurturer, her breath shallow and nearly still. Her faint simper is soon a tooth-bearing grin as she is finally emerging from her comatose state, aching, groaning with anguish at the heaviness of her throbbing skull. She does not see the shadow of her assailant; her gaze is bleary and settled upon her trembling newborn, still slick in fluid. Feebly, she clutches onto some faint semblance of control, pulling her weak and weary body closer to him, where her lips press a single, soft kiss against the darkness of his skin.
”Soldat, I love you,” Misra utters affectionately, her mind lingering for a moment on Siberian – on the distant memory of her own small body in her youth nestled into his fur, of his soft kisses along her spine, of the passion shared that had conceived their beloved son – tiredly, wearily, her head is turned, suddenly all-too-aware of the dark, beady eyes peering out at her from the darkness.
And with a bludgeoning thud and a thrill, wicked ring of laughter, the boulder collides with the fragile bone and tender brain matter of Misra’s skull, crushing her beneath its weight.
With a wicked, sadistic smile, Thana herself is peering into the darkness, to a deeply-set and sinister pair of dark scarlet eyes, her body tingling with adrenaline as she moves closer – brushing her shoulder against his own, crooning softly to him as she had done for the now lonesome, orphaned colt lying on the dark, moist soil.
”I have proved my loyalty,” she murmurs against his pale skin, quivering with the rush of emotion flooding over her – glee, at the forefront. ”come, Gryffen – let us leave him. He is of no use to either of us.”
Oh, how he longed for death and decay – just as she did!
She is giddy and quaking with delight, with a delicate flame lit within the darkness that had so wholly consumed the entirety of her soul. It traverses the slender length of her body, crawling into the tender marrow of her bones, eliciting a tingling shiver across the surface of her prickling nerve endings.
He had hungered for her, his body flush against hers while the paleness of his mouth fed ravenously on the indigo mottling of her on – tasting the enthrallment that lingered there, amidst the dried sweat that lay across the surface. But she had hungered for something more than the carnal desire that festered and tempted her – sex was sex; it would sate her but only for a moment in time – but the simple, unadulterated bloodlust that washed over her like the thickness of salty seafoam held so much more promise for pleasure.
She had trembled in anticipation when he had urged her on, feeding into the insatiable unkindness that filled her to the brim, provoking the voracious beast that yearned to have its darker, more insidious appetite fulfilled. The sex could wait until the sickeningly sweet metallic stench of blood melded with her own perspiration; it could wait until every fiber of her being felt satisfied with the expiry of another – however temporary such satiation might be.
She wasted no time, weaving through the thicket with deft refinement – she is slim, slender, and yet lined with heavy muscle along her haunches, where the indigo of her silhouette fades into the very same blackness of the impenetrable copse of trees. Her breath is quiet, but quick, as her agile limbs carry her through the woodland with ease – and a low, echoing cry causes her to still, to become silent – with baited breath. When it rings a second time, reverberating off the foliage overhead, she is rife with enthusiasm.
Her dark gaze – two-toned, one a dull and dreary gray, the other as dark as the blackness surrounding her – peers into the shadows, admiring the lurking figure of another. Ivory, with vivid, gleaming eyes of crimson fire, glittering dangerously. A wry smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth, and stealthily, she weaves on until a small but densely encapsulate clearing appears, with a sweat-slickened female in a pool of her own blood, with a small bundle of blackness wrapped in a slick and unbroken sac.
Weak, fragile - an easy target, to be certain, but she knew it would take a callous heart to cause such grievous harm to a euphoric, fatigue-ridden mother – to cause trauma to a freshly birthed, newborn draped in his own afterbirth – and with nimble movements, she rises up onto her hind legs, aiming with skillful precision for the skull of the winged female – momentarily knocking her unconscious.
She does not wait for her to come to – beside her, her newborn is whimpering for her, its sac broken and clinging tightly to the sharp ridges and edges of his gangly body, and Thana cannot conceal her satisfaction. ”Watch, little one – watch your mother die before you – such a weak little thing, she is,” she croons, brushing her mouth over the crest of his spine.
All the while, her mind is willfully drawing a thick and large boulder into the air with her telekinesis – no less than five feet in diameter, hovering it over the lifeless body of the nameless nurturer, her breath shallow and nearly still. Her faint simper is soon a tooth-bearing grin as she is finally emerging from her comatose state, aching, groaning with anguish at the heaviness of her throbbing skull. She does not see the shadow of her assailant; her gaze is bleary and settled upon her trembling newborn, still slick in fluid. Feebly, she clutches onto some faint semblance of control, pulling her weak and weary body closer to him, where her lips press a single, soft kiss against the darkness of his skin.
”Soldat, I love you,” Misra utters affectionately, her mind lingering for a moment on Siberian – on the distant memory of her own small body in her youth nestled into his fur, of his soft kisses along her spine, of the passion shared that had conceived their beloved son – tiredly, wearily, her head is turned, suddenly all-too-aware of the dark, beady eyes peering out at her from the darkness.
And with a bludgeoning thud and a thrill, wicked ring of laughter, the boulder collides with the fragile bone and tender brain matter of Misra’s skull, crushing her beneath its weight.
With a wicked, sadistic smile, Thana herself is peering into the darkness, to a deeply-set and sinister pair of dark scarlet eyes, her body tingling with adrenaline as she moves closer – brushing her shoulder against his own, crooning softly to him as she had done for the now lonesome, orphaned colt lying on the dark, moist soil.
”I have proved my loyalty,” she murmurs against his pale skin, quivering with the rush of emotion flooding over her – glee, at the forefront. ”come, Gryffen – let us leave him. He is of no use to either of us.”
Misra is dead, murdered by Thana. Soldat is alone, freshly birthed and nearest to his mother's body.
Soldat is not actually orphaned - Siberian, his father, will collect him, either in this thread or in another.
@[Soldat] @[Siberian] @[Gryffen]