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| hunger for the flesh (o) | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Dec 8 2012, 11:38 AM (193 Views) | |
| Lunar Dementia | May 11 2013, 01:06 PM Post #11 |
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Grimly Fiendish
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The wolf was restless within his skin and as it's coat pushed up towards his flesh, pain seared his mind. His vision went red before beginning to fade to black but as he tightened his grip on the table, he refused to bend to the agony. Wood creaked under his fingers as his blunt human nails dug into it's surface. A small chocked sound came from him before his wolf retreated deep into his mind again, whimpering softly in apology. Roan blinked as his vision returned and kept his gaze trained on the table until the grain of the wood was clear to sight again. Deep lungful of air inhaled...exhale. Calm. the more the silver had to inflict the pain the faster it would enter his system. "I do not care...because unless the cuffs are removed...this will be pointless." Talking was getting easier although he often found himself needing to mentially regroup the words in a way that his man self recognized as proper sequences. "It is a poison. I am still chained." He shook his head slightly, not knowing how to impart the importance upon this woman who cared nothing but for the money she would collect. "It is tearing me from the soul and unless freed, I will be nothing more than a mad wolf in a man's body." Her hissed words had caused some to pay more attention to them than he'd like and Roan shifted uneasily in his chair. Looking about, he caught the gaze of one particularly interested patron and returned with a flat stare filled with cold silver. The man swallowed and looked away, suddenly stinking of fear scent. turning his eyes back to the woman, hunkered slightly in his seat before with a sigh be turned his back to her. Sweeping an arm behind his head, he lifted his long tangled hair to reveal that on the right side of the back of his neck. There in the shadows was a deceptively delicately lined tattoo of a fox skull and crossed bones behind it. The skull's eyes seemed mischievous and gleamed deep red like freshly fallen blood. It was the runic symbol that belonged solely to the Goddess of Seas and leader of the Les Eaux D'or. "It also does not matter as much whom it was that put a price for my head. I already belong to someone." He turned and looked back at the ebony creature. "There is the treasure and my mistress will be most glad to have me returned. I ask for your help as I am weak in this state. You are strong." |
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| Butcher's Daughter | May 21 2013, 03:31 PM Post #12 |
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Knickerweasel
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His grip on the table startled her. She wasn't sure if it was the creak of protest from the wood or the ferocity with which he dug into the table, but Loresh's eyes grew wide as saucers as she stared at him, along with the nearest patrons. Her gaze shrank again to a squint as she dug in her satchel again for some coins then slapped them on the counter, almost pinning his hand in the same moment. "Wait... now wait a minute... that's the mark of the Moreto Vešterka, my friend-- you are wanting my help to get you to the Stormblade woman?" The mercernary's lips pursed as she considered what "treasure" she might find if she didn't help return this beaten creature to his mistress, a goddess not entirely trusted by her desert family or her people when she was growing up and one that she still didn't want to have anything to do with. "Damned if I do and damned if I don't, is that it?" she muttered under her breath before speaking to Roan again. "Fine. I'll take you wherever you bloody well want to go, so long as you swear on your grave, your skin, your name or whatever, that I won't be mistaken as your abductor and summarily executed for just showing my face at that island with you in tow, d'you understand that, zlo?" Her tone was low and fierce as she began checking all her things to make sure she had them where they needed to be. Her dark eyes darted down to where his lap was below the table and made eye contact with him again. "Make sure you get that shit on before we go; we're leaving as soon as you finish your hog tonight." Her lips quirked up at one side for a brief moment, only to be replaced with an ugly grimace that was obviously forced. "Am I supposed to take you to a blacksmith, first? Or your mistress? Make up your mind before I come back; I'm ordering that whole pig for our room, dragi," she said, loudly enough for those nearest to hear the last. Edited by Butcher's Daughter, May 21 2013, 03:34 PM.
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| Lunar Dementia | May 21 2013, 04:07 PM Post #13 |
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Grimly Fiendish
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He tilted his head as he looked at her curious then frowned at her question of a blacksmith. Shaking his head with an air of resignation, he sighed. "It will take more than a mere blacksmith. They are beyond silver. Enchanted." Were the cuffs merely silver it would have hurt but he would have been able to tear them free of his body. They also would keep him from transforming but the sheer mind bending agony that kept his wolf soul from touching his mortal flesh was too astounding to be caused by something made of simple silver. "I fear I do not know how to remove them, but I swear on my vulpine soul that as long as I am well enough to bid to the Queen of Sea and Water, she will not harm you. I was once a proud and strong servant of hers...she will reward you well for bringing me, despite my condition." That was the most he had said in a large chunk in so long he could not recall. His mouth closed, feeling odd for it and he had to remind himself to breath. As she mentioned food he shook his head again. "The humans are becoming too curious. Our lengthening presence is turning it into boldness. I can smell it from them." He glanced up at the patrons around them from beneath his lashes, feeling ill at ease. "I think it unwise to stay in this common room any longer." Ice crawled up his spine at his next thought and for a moment had to choke down the sensation to fight or flee even though there was no immediate danger nearby. "They may be looking for me, and sadly even with the cloak, I am quite recognizable." He would have to find a knife soon, which he figured she had. If they did in fact get a room, he could call for a bowl of warm water and shed this man fur. It was likely that shaven the guards looking for him, would not recognize him near as clearly. After all, all they had known for many years was the beast in the cage that they beat for their own enjoyment. |
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| Butcher's Daughter | Jun 2 2013, 09:37 AM Post #14 |
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Knickerweasel
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"Good. Don't need no trouble from her; I get enough from you." Loresh gave a sigh of resignation and stood slowly, the cold having exaggerated then locked up the muscles along her spine and making her move like an old woman. She gave him a nod, to acknowledge his words, then made her way to the counter, to see that their room was ready and her companion's hog sent there once they were comfortably situated. Glancing back at Roan, the mercenary jerked her head towards the stairs and started up them herself, not looking back to see if he followed. Now that she had eaten and decided where they were going to go next, the woman found that she was entirely exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep. Whatever her companion did was his own business, so long as he announced himself before coming to and going from the room while she slept. "Unda attingit Te et abducit Te in profunda Sicut es unda!" She sang the melody to herself in a quiet voice as she ascended the steps, her mind on the bed, sheets, and pillows she was about to assault. Her mind wandered briefly over the thought that perhaps there was one bed and she might have to share it with Roan, especially if the tavern was as cold upstairs as it was downstairs. The thought made her grin wickedly. Upon arriving at the room, she slipped in, shed her cloak and immediately dropped all of her clothes to the floor, standing nude in the middle of the room. The mercenary gave herself a once over and smiled, moving over to the single large bed to settle in and await Roan. The expressions he was likely to make in reaction to her nakedness made her fight off snickering so she could successfully pretend to sleep. Edited by Butcher's Daughter, Jun 2 2013, 09:39 AM.
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| Lunar Dementia | Jun 2 2013, 12:39 PM Post #15 |
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Grimly Fiendish
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He stayed at the table as she spoke to the man behind the stairs and thus was a fair step behind her as she went to the stairs. He moved slowly, a dull pain echoing up his limbs with ever step, reminding him that he still had miles to go...what were those words again? The ones the red haired woman had whispered to him as a child... The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep. His heart ached. The woman had been beautiful. Golden skin and flaming hair with rich eyes deeper than any pool and just as luminous. She had come to his village and spoke with the elders, gathering stories she said. However she shared some as well. Settling beside him as he played with his wooden wolf and horse in the grass, her words had been melodic and held something deep within his heart even now. He yearned for those woodlands now, but with her remembered words resonating within the back of his mind, he felt some sense of comfort. Idly as he came to the door of the room she had entered, he wondered if the woman was still alive. She had been far from human was all he knew about her, despite her appearance. He rapped softly before stepping in without waiting for an answer, certain that she might give thought to locking him out in spite of their deal. Roan closed the door with a small click before turning to see the lean ebony figure standing nude before him. His eyes slowly roved from her feet up strong legs to round hips that begged for touch and taunt stomach, lean from athletic movements. She was equally blessed in her chest and smooth skin that glowed in the light from the fireplace. He met her eyes that glittered with something he could only call mischievous and absently wished he were in a condition to appreciate the view further other than to just be able to relish it like a fine art. Roan was not shocked by the sight of her nudity as it was a common sight in a village of shifters. Nor was he panting with lust, she was a beautiful woman that was true, but he was battered and near broken. It was also true that he had not been around the nude form of a female in many many years...since...his mate. He swallowed a moan of sadness and gave her a crooked smile instead. A shadow of his old charming expression but his eyes gleamed silver instead of grey for a moment before he turned away and shed the cloak he wore as well. Moving to drape it over the end of the bed, he ignored the pig and said nothing to the woman as he padded with silent feet to the bowl of water, still steaming gently. Taking a cloth he began to bath away the blood and grime from his face and chest. Despite the ribs showing with aching intensity, he was all lean muscle that rippled with movement. The water dripped down his front and began to soak into his pants but he could not reach the worst of the dried blood that was flaking from his back. Silver flashing in his eyes again, he looked at her and quirked an eyebrow in silent question. Wolves. they were used to that communication done mostly in bodily movements. He would have to ask for a knife as well, and made note to do so depending on how open she was to aiding him now of her own will. Cleaning up was little to actually do with his well being although it would help him hide from guards to not look like the rat they had been guarding. |
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| Butcher's Daughter | Jun 3 2013, 01:51 AM Post #16 |
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Knickerweasel
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Loresh started as she heard the soft knock preceding the door brushing open and the lock clicking shut. She turned quickly, slightly, keeping her feet planted as she pivoted at the waist to look behind her, to see if it was a timid tavern worker delivering more firewood or her rescue sneaking in after her. She had grabbed the edge of the fur blanket resting on the top of the bed, drawing it against her breast in a false attempt at modesty. The look on his face wasn't the one she had expected, however, though she did find a tightness in her chest as she watched his roving eyes trail up her shapely form, sending a flush of heat to her cheeks as she considered what she had expected him to do about her lack of garb. She noticed his appreciative glance at the last second, before a half-hearted smirk took over his features, and felt the heat fade from her cheeks as she turned completely towards the door, dragging the blanket from the bed and absently reveling in the fur sliding along her legs as the bedcover wound round her. The mercenary scowled to herself, thinking that she had seen silver in his eyes instead of what she had assumed was normal gray, as he turned from her, but she had no way to know for sure. She watched with a sinking feeling as he bypassed the food, found herself wondering how much had happened to this wolf-man in his lifetime, that he would pass a woman and a hog with hardly an interested glance. Loresh gave a tired sigh and began pulling the sheets back, glancing over at Roan every few moments to see if he would speak to her or if he simply meant to use her as a means to meet his mistress again. The dark-skinned woman chewed on her lower lip absently as she moved about the edge of the bed, shuffling Roan's cloak to an empty chair as she then assessed the size of the bed to see if, indeed, anyone would have to sleep elsewhere in the room. The silence was filled with the gentle slopping of the water he used to clean the blood from his back. Loresh was almost about to drop into the bed and pass out when she cast one last glance at her companion, saw his gleaming, molten eyes, and stood, forgetting her furry cover as she had slung the blanket over a shoulder and nonchalantly spread it over herself just to keep warm. "You keep strange company, zlo," she said softly as she padded over to him and took the sopping, rust-colored rag from his hands. She was carelessly gentle, the kind of touch one used when their target was in fine health but needed emotional comfort not provided by the hands. "I suppose I should know, growing up amongst whores and their ilk. I never gave much thought to anything... mythical, I guess the word would be. No wolves in mens' skin, or dragons, or gods." She paused as his shoulder faintly jerked from her fingertips, her scrubbing having grown too localized. "Žal mi e, dragi. I always took myth for just that, myth. Who would believe that it is all real?" She leaned past him to rinse the cloth out, brushing her endowment absent-mindedly along his shoulder and arm until she stood straight again. The mercenary finished wiping him clean and studied his lash marks with a sorrowful eye before she dropped the rag into his lap and turned, grabbing up the fur cover and slipping into the bed, almost instantly falling asleep but leaving more than enough room for Roan to lay beside her without touching, comfortably. |
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| Lunar Dementia | Jun 4 2013, 08:47 AM Post #17 |
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Grimly Fiendish
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As she finished her work and moved away to the bed, appearing to slumber from the moment she touched what appeared to him as sheer bliss in terms of sheets and bedding, he smiled to himself. Oh if she only knew, he could guarentee her that all the myths and legends were true. Did he know personally? Not really but he had seen enough in his life. He was part of it after all. His thoughts returned to the crimson haired woman as he moved to the pig to steal away the knife there for cutting it. He had meant to ask her but she seemed comfortable or in the least that conversation was over. He would not disturb that. Wiping the knife he moved back to the bowl and in the small mirror before it, began cutting at his beard. the knife was sharp and well built for something meant to cut meat. Flaming hair. Flaming eyes. He had been fascinated as a child and did not know why. Not also why the adults, although they welcomed her, were wary of enticing any sort of fury from her. How could she become mad? she was so soft of voice and walk, like one of the Pack. It was when she was leaving that he learned. The children had to stay in the village while the elders disappeared in the forest with her. He followed anyway and from the shadows, witnessed her saying goodbye in a large clearing then something...Her form changed, shifted, morphed. It was dizzying to watch how fast it went about and the mass that grew from it. It was like watching one of the Pack change but on a scale his mind could not fathom as in her place was a great beast of blood red scales and black deadly claws. The dragon flexed those claws in the soft dirt then stood and nodded back only once before taking to the sky with a surprisingly agile leap. The wind from her wings nearly took the hats from the elders but they clamped their hands on their heads and watched until she was gone from sight. Even now he still dreamed of that magical sight. Mind focusing on the present, he looked at the mechanical movements. His beard was all but gone, only a stubble left from inability to get clean against his flesh. If he had his healing he might have risked it but no, anything that pulled on the wolf spirit would only antagonize the poison that he knew was creeping into his flesh and soul. Moving on to his shaggy hair, he did not stop until it was only a few inches long, the tattoo on his next mostly exposed and peeking out at the world. Washing the hair in the bowl, it flopped over his eye but was nothing like before, only brushing his ear tops. Shaking the hair with his fingers, he watched until he was satisfied and set the blade down. Leaving it there, he moved to the bed and shed his pants before slithering into it himself. He did not want to wear them mainly as they were wet from the cloth bathing. Roan had no sense of fear in his modesty and would walk nude through town if he did not think it would end with harm. He slipped under a sheet and felt like he was sliding into silk with how vastly different it felt to the coarse dirty mat he had been living on. It was soft and sucked his mind along with body in almost right away. The fog of sleep whispered over his senses and Roan relaxed despite the woman next to him. Her scent wafted over him as well and enveloped the senses not contained by being in a real bed again. A chord of longing wove through him. His mate. His home. Both upon his ship and upon the Goddess's Isle. Every man there had his own room. Something akin to a small home if they had a mate to share it with to allow for children to be raised. He was almost grateful children had never come to them. there was no way he could have handled the loss of both. closing his eyes now, he allowed himself to be lulled into slumber and did so quickly. It was likely not wise that he did so as deeply as he did but he was no alone and she was not helpless. ~ The next day was brisk and buisnessful to get them out of the city as fast as possible and on their way to the dock city. He was beginning to remember things about it now just as speech was not something of a struggle. It almost felt normal..now if he could just get free of the silver before it drove him mad or straight out killed him. He had seen in the past on very rare occasions what happened to one of the Pack to lose their wolf...it was not pretty. Continued in the hollow...link |
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2:34 AM Jul 11