04-25-2018, 05:38 PM
jackel
Only a minute passes before I hear the shuffle of something moving through the fiery tears of the giants. It speaks to me, whatever it is, but I cannot see it yet. The lingering stiffness in my neck as prevented me from raising my dial any higher than chest level. This will pass, but it takes time and my present company does not allow me such indulgences. My head tilts almost unnaturally to the side, allowing my constricted pupils to appraise whatever has stumbled upon my resurrection. The something just so happens to be of the female variety; something wicked this way comes and all that. My eyes roll sluggishly in my head due to the lack of moisture, tracing the outline of her frosted frame. The pretty frigid mare speaks to me then, but no sooner do her words register than I hear the taunting. My head slumps to the other side to hear better and that impish grin grows a little wider—he calls to me, the shadows were right. Why do I ever doubt them?
I’ve been trying to find my voice this entire time, shifting my gaze back to the mare; my voice seems to be the last thing to return to me. Death literally chokes the life out of you and vocal chords rigid with unuse are fickle things to become pliable again. Laughing is one thing, formulating words is entirely another.
My nightmare approaches, saying my name and answering the question of the other woman. As for her last statement, well, ”Depends…upon your definition of… good”, I manage to force the words out with a wheezing laugh.
Teeth meet my raw flesh and I inhale a sharp intake of breath; nerve endings fresh and alight spark my adrenaline anew and my head suddenly snaps skyward. The movement elicits a collective symphony of cracking vertebrae as they finally realign into their proper places, recovering all of my lost movement at last. The sound is the loveliest music to my ears. Lingering stiffness resides in my muscles but that would fade eventually, at least I could move more fluidly now.
The sting in my shoulder draws the attention to my devil; my nose meets his chest, breathing in where I had first tasted his blood, moving upward along his midnight flesh and into the coarseness of his mane. “You know just what buttons to push, don’t you? My worst fucking nightmare, did my heart keep you good company while I was away?” I whisper hoarsely, giggling into the darkness of his tangled locks.
But I have not forgotten about the third member of our ménage a trois, as my sharp eyes fixate on the wickedness of the snowy woman nearby; there’s an ache in my bones that I can’t ignore—it tells me that we are not so different her and I. In a couple languorous steps I am within the bubble of her personal space, as a cheshire grin stakes claim of my dried blood stained lips. Eyes widening to show their whites, “Do you like the taste of blood, sweetling? Such a pretty thing, you are.”
I’ve been trying to find my voice this entire time, shifting my gaze back to the mare; my voice seems to be the last thing to return to me. Death literally chokes the life out of you and vocal chords rigid with unuse are fickle things to become pliable again. Laughing is one thing, formulating words is entirely another.
My nightmare approaches, saying my name and answering the question of the other woman. As for her last statement, well, ”Depends…upon your definition of… good”, I manage to force the words out with a wheezing laugh.
Teeth meet my raw flesh and I inhale a sharp intake of breath; nerve endings fresh and alight spark my adrenaline anew and my head suddenly snaps skyward. The movement elicits a collective symphony of cracking vertebrae as they finally realign into their proper places, recovering all of my lost movement at last. The sound is the loveliest music to my ears. Lingering stiffness resides in my muscles but that would fade eventually, at least I could move more fluidly now.
The sting in my shoulder draws the attention to my devil; my nose meets his chest, breathing in where I had first tasted his blood, moving upward along his midnight flesh and into the coarseness of his mane. “You know just what buttons to push, don’t you? My worst fucking nightmare, did my heart keep you good company while I was away?” I whisper hoarsely, giggling into the darkness of his tangled locks.
But I have not forgotten about the third member of our ménage a trois, as my sharp eyes fixate on the wickedness of the snowy woman nearby; there’s an ache in my bones that I can’t ignore—it tells me that we are not so different her and I. In a couple languorous steps I am within the bubble of her personal space, as a cheshire grin stakes claim of my dried blood stained lips. Eyes widening to show their whites, “Do you like the taste of blood, sweetling? Such a pretty thing, you are.”
all this joy, I've got some to share
OOC: Hope you guys are cool with creepy Jack today. Also, imma slap a [mature] label on this thread because....yeah.
@[Elise] @[Modicum Mortem]