[P]  Enticing Encounters

Zendelrin

8 y/o xlarge Male
Zendelrin Ragnulf;
Oh, my eyes are seein' red
Double vision from the blood we've shed
The only way I'm leavin' is dead
That's the state of my, state of my, state of my head

 
Liquid life had fallen from grace and onto the devils messenger. A sea of sinful decretive hues would adore his coat in clinging globs of freedom. Lodge tenderly within those victorious jaws was the precious lifeless heart from the prison that had consumed his soul for far too long. Gouged open was the prison that had stolen the essence of his past and infected the promise of his future. Now, that prison had been eradicated. The shackled that bound him to the white trash prince had been shattered. He had torn it free as he ripped the truth free from its fleshly prison.
 
The moons face illuminated the severity of the reapers condition. Her grace was unforgiving as she watched the man walk in silence against her reaching light. The world was lost to the fog of his satisfaction. Everything around him felt heightened and static. That regal façade that he held onto so tightly had slipped free in the frenzy of death and gluttony. If he were in control then the sight of himself would leave him appalled. However, the freedom that invigorated his body was far more alluring than simple vanity.
 
The scent of water was close. That part of him that needed to collect him once more was silently steering his body. With each step a part of oh his past slid off his coat and laded on the ground behind him. It would crumble into dust on the wind where he would leave it to rest. Every part of him was shaking with the knowledge that he was free and yet reality still was uncertain. Here he walked with the proof of Satchels demise lodged in his jaws and yet he couldn’t believe that it was truly over. That he really was free of the vindictive son of a bitch.
 
Soon enough one lone ear twitched to the sound of running water. Part of him recoiled from the sound. Was he ready to wash away the proof of what had transpired? Was he ready to let go? His smoldering ember gaze shifted towards the heavens as he looked towards the watching moon. Her judgment was sharp but understanding and he felt at peace with what he had done. The feeling over power still sang through his claws. That feeling of life fading from the living and bringing absolute finality was something that he would never be able to shake. It was an addiction that would one day turn on him.


"Zen speaking"

Art by Hyssie. Table by Centience

@Ignis
Reply

Ignis

0.8 y/o small Male
Pele, Female Vulturine Parrot
It seemed like Ignis found himself wandering more and more when night fell, finding that evading sleep was better than succumbing to it. More often than not his dreams transformed into nightmares. Sometimes he relived the abuse and ridicule he suffered from his siblings. Other times he would dream of that fateful day that he’d used a spell that had… very effectively gotten rid of his siblings for him. He tried not to dwell on the gory details: the smell of burning flesh, the dead silence, the charred bodies… Night walks were much preferable than memories disguised as nightmares. He was always tempted to use the gift Pele had given to him in instances such as this, but he could hardly call his nightvision useful in its state. The darkened world only revealed itself to him in brief, unhelpful flashes. The moon helped a little in guiding him, not that he had a destination mind. His throat which bespoke of its dryness proved that statement wrong a moment later.

“Ah… the river. Right…,” he mumbled to no one in particular. He found that his throat was stricken with dryness quite often. He had been born with innards forged from fire. It should’ve been expected. The boy continued on his way through the forest, ears pricked forwards as if reaching for the sound that he was looking for: running water. The moon seemed to aid the young boy with her light, for he did not need to search for very long. Ignis stopped short of the river’s bank, watching the churning water as its waves were accented by the moonlight. He felt Pele shift her weight on his shoulders, her talons gently clenching his fur for purchase. The black and red parrot tilted her head, peering down at the rapids. 

"It's far too dangerous here to get a drink. Perhaps downriver,” she chirped quietly to her companion. Ignis sighed, steam billowing from his maw, before turning to begin padding towards a hopefully calmer part of the river. Then, all at once, a rancid scent assaulted the boy’s nostrils and he stopped dead in his tracks, tail quivering. 

Was that… blood? Ignis’ head lowered as his ears twitched nervously. Perhaps someone was night hunting? It wasn’t that odd if there were other affinities gifted with nightvision like him. But this blood smelled different… it didn’t smell like prey. It smelled like… The young boy’s heart picked up speed, his eyes glowing brighter with fear. He thought he could see someone in the distance, the moon illuminating their form just enough. Despite not wanting to, he tried to use his nightvision again, hoping it would help him in some way. He could barely see, but just enough to make out a wolf that seemed to be covered in blood, carrying something that Ignis couldn’t identify in his maw. 

The young boy’s heart felt like it had fallen at his paws and a familiar feeling of dread settled in his stomach. The fur along his back lifted as his ears pinned back against his head. He took a step back, ready to turn tail back towards the way he came, towards the safety of the trees. It seemed the Gods took amusement in his despair for the moment his paw moved it landed heavily on a stray branch, that seemed crack louder than thunder. Ignis froze, hoping that perhaps the sound was lost in the raucous noise of the rushing water next to him.

@Zendelrin
Reply

Zendelrin

8 y/o xlarge Male
Zendelrin Ragnulf;
Oh, my eyes are seein' red
 Double vision from the blood we've shed
The only way I'm leavin' is dead
That's the state of my, state of my, state of my head

 

Averseness halted the man merely inches away from his cathartic immersion. The verity of his condition was a testament to the reality of all parts of him. Once his body touched the purifying waters it would all fade back into the box that he held chained and submerged in the depths of his consciousness. In truth that part of him was always aware. Just on the edge of his romanticized persona was that gnawing need to consume the flesh of his brethren.
 
It would seem the gods wished not for him to find his solace. The careful crack of a traitorous flora did catch the reapers attention. Smoldering ember eyes remained focused up ahead until they eerily began to turn towards that sound. The rest of his body stood ridged. It was difficult to differentiate where the color of blood met the color of his auburn coat. His lips curled aggressively against his prized possession. A glint of tarnished canines could be seen for a moment until his lips once again covered it.
 
Finally he turned his head towards the direction of the sound. Once again a stranger hide amongst the shadows. What was happening to the etiquette within his fellow wolves? Had no one taught them any manners? It was distasteful to say the least. Never the less he would be the bigger wolf and express his own greetings into the evening veil.
 
He was dramatic in his movements. His neck craned downwards as he carefully released the trophy he had procured from Satchels carcass. Feline like claws domineeringly caged the item within their grasp. His salmon like tongue glided across his now vacant maw. The reminder of his taste sent a spike of adrenaline through his body as visions of what had transpired flashed in his minds eye. It was all so exhilarating.
 
“Well then, little lamb, we are both aware of each other now. Shall we not play games and speak of introductions instead?” his voice was as smooth as melted chocolate. It was quite odd the sound of such sophistication that was painted in such bellicosity. Yet, the façade he had always placed across his murderous features still remained unhindered.




"Zen speaking"

Art by Hyssie. Table by Centience

@Ignis
Reply

Ignis

0.8 y/o small Male
Pele, Female Vulturine Parrot
The wolf ahead was so still and rigid and Ignis’ overactive imagination had the audacity to believe that the wolf before him had heard nothing. A small desperate thing inside the young boy’s body had been hoping for it. Yet Ignis would have no such luck tonight. The boy didn’t need his nightvision to see that the stranger ahead was a man, a large one, much like the one he’d encountered days ago along with the gentle woman. Gore seemed to coat his pelt, gore that smelled far removed from any prey that he had ever smelled. He could feel bile rise in his throat at the smell and the mere thought of where the man had become so caked in blood. 

Then the stranger’s head turned, slowly, deliberately towards his direction. There was no mistaking, no pretending. His blunder had not fallen on deaf ears and it was far too late to even entertain the thought of slipping into the shadows of the trees, to safety. Something told Ignis that if he tried to run, that he wouldn’t make it. That the large man would definitely overtake him if he so much as fled. The longer the boy’s glowing, orange eyes stayed on the figure ahead the more his imagination played tricks on his fragile mind. The stranger moved again with slow purpose, jaws opening to deposit whatever had been there and Ignis’ stomach grew heavy with dread despite not clearly seeing what the object was. Something was there, like tiny shadows in the darkness swirling around the object the man had dropped on the ground. 

A voice that reminded Ignis of the way water slid from a water fowl’s back reached his ears. Enticing him to reveal himself from the shadows. Somehow despite the voice not being harsh or callous it caused an eruption of chills down the boy’s spine. It took him a long moment to move, to even lift his paws from the ground where it felt as though they had taken root. He could feel Pele’s talons digging into his back as he slowly moved forward. As he stepped forward he did what he knew best and slipped on a mask: a calm, serious exterior that would shut out all the emotions, all the chaos that his mind was conjuring. The only thing that he could not hide was the way his eyes seemed to grow a brighter, almost whiter orange with every step. They displayed his caution, his fear, his panic.

It felt like an eternity before Ignis finally was close enough to make out the man’s features. He honestly wished he wasn’t for he could almost clearly see what the stranger had dropped upon the ground and he had to suppress the violent urge to vomit what he’d hunted for dinner hours before, he lifted his head to meet the taller man’s gaze and opened his maw, steam billowing out as glowing orange teeth were exposed to the air. The young boy spoke, trying desperately to keep the tremble from creeping into his voice. 

“I… I’m sorry. I-” he swallowed as if it would help the dryness in his throat. “I didn’t realize that someone else was here. I… I-I can leave if I’ve… disturbed you…” He hoped fervently that the man would excuse him and that he could put as much distance as physically possible between him and the strange wolf.

@Zendelrin
Reply

Zendelrin

8 y/o xlarge Male
Zendelrin Ragnulf;
Oh, my eyes are seein' red
 Double vision from the blood we've shed
The only way I'm leavin' is dead
That's the state of my, state of my, state of my head

 

The world around him felt much more vibrant. It wasn’t often he allowed his truth to be set free. The fabricated faced that always painted his features was rarely allowed to crumble. In this moment, he was both, the monster and the gentlemen. It was an odd coupling. One only a few had ever witnessed. Never the less, he was still himself, even if the memory still taunted him. His ultimate hunt was now over. It would seem he would need to find a new victim to groom.
 
The taste of uncertainty and fear gently stroked the already burning fire. He closed his eyes for a moment and pulled in a deep breath. He needed to collect himself. He did not hunt without reason. There was a method to his choice in victims. It was methodical and calculating. A chance encounter would not fit the profile. No, he needed to push that part of himself back into its box. Another soul would not be delivered to his god on this night.
 
He felt the chains of his regression circulating his monster. He could feel the control becoming clear and the world becoming duller. Yet, it still peeked past the surface of his smoldering ember eyes. “Now then, little lamb, it’s rude to simply come and go without at least introducing ones self.” He said, his voice thick with the promise of just what could happen if he decided to run. Oh, please, run. The darker part of him begged as he hushed the thoughts away.
 
He remained stationary. His trophy was currently secured beneath his heavy paw. His tail flicked behind him as he waited for the stranger to come closer. Just a little bit closer. The scent of him wouldn’t be lost to him even if their encounter was brief. He could find him again. It was useless for him to seek salvation elsewhere. For even if the reaper stood before him, scythe In paw, it was better to know the devil then run from it.


"Zen speaking"

Art by Hyssie. Table by Centience

@Ignis
Reply

Ignis

0.8 y/o small Male
Pele, Female Vulturine Parrot
It was so quiet and so still that when he heard the man before him take a deep breath the young boy almost jumped. It felt like a clump of dirt was lodged in Ignis’ throat as he swallowed nervously, finding that he was having massive difficulties keeping hold of the mask he put on that seemed to work at the best of times, especially when he knew exactly what affinity stood before him. What he was dealing with: the Ram. It was even harder not to let that fear within him rear its ugly head, to put his uncertainty and anxiety on full display to the stranger.

Perhaps he already knew? Knew that he was fighting off the urge to flee.

He blinked when that sickly smooth voice beckoned him again. Ever so closer, but Ignis stayed where he was, fur lifting along his spine again. He didn’t like that word: “little lamb”. As if he was a piece of prey ripe for the taking. He couldn’t decipher the look in the older man’s eyes as he requested his name once more. On any other occasion leaving before introducing oneself would definitely be rude, but for some reason Ignis did not want to speak it so freely to this odd stranger. A stranger carrying the heart of another wolf in his jaws. A stranger who smelled like blood and death. A stranger who looked as though he would leap at him at any moment. 

Without realizing that he did the young boy seemed to take a step back. His facade was beginning to crack ever so slightly, the uneasiness in his heart slowly creeping into his face, his body language. He began to lower his head as his ears twitched nervously. His expression looked weary. Perhaps he should have ran while he was still a safe distance. 

“I… m-my mother t-told me not to give m... m-my name so freely to strangers….,” he blurted, a lie. The young wolf probably looked far too old to still be by his mother’s side, but his mind was being overcome with fear. He took a step back farther. “S-She’ll be… looking for me…,” his voice seemed only but a whisper, as if he was afraid speaking any louder would bring something terrible down upon him. He would've turned to leave, but something was screaming at the young boy not to turn his back on the stranger.

@Zendelrin
Reply





Hosting by Kaons. Skin by Selkie. Banner by Nikkayla.
Powered By MyBB, © 2002-2020 MyBB Group.