The Goddess scorned is a Valkyrie born (any)

[velis]

It was cold, but sweetly calm. Within the night’s swarthy grasp - my being seamlessly floated along. The heaviness of death that decayed and bloated my body could not deny the quietness my night’s sheen overlooked. Every step, clunked, every breath, so uselessly pulled. I was a heaving rumbling blackness within my night.


As my lungs played with the harsh rushes of oxygen - movement was forced to conclude. Attention fleeted to the various pressures that presented inside my body. My posture stilled; the lids of my visual attention closed as I awaited the aggravation of rot to expel. A strange groove in my neck provoked a steady stream of the blackened decomposed matter. It spewed steadily through the cracks of my fangs, dribbled from my nostrils, and wept just beneath the cylinders of my eyes. It wasn't long before the cold air grasped it and converted the blackness into a thicker form; casually drying along areas that became neglected in time. This was a cordial occurrence that cycled within my lifeless body and oiled the corners of my being. It ultimately relieved the strains that death often presented.


My blackly gaze cracked open to an ashen cloud; with a quick thrash of my head, I was satisfied to return to the night’s blackest union. My humor was softened as I was lost in adoration, she does not leave me yet.

V E | I S

My life is full of longing, but for what I'll never know. I've been drawn into the fire as I reap what I sow..

[sinew]

Nightfall --
Cold, beautiful nightfall.

It found her bereft of them, all of them - for once.
She tastes a strange freedom on her tongue that starts to curdle the more she eyes the dry ravages that make up Pangea. Since neither colt flanks her, since their father fails to keep her under a sterner eye, Sinew deviates from the same dusty track that she has kept to since her return there, with the twins in tow. She laughs aloud, bitter, harried; thinking back to a few days’ ago and how she had chased them from her lean milk-free sides in a series of kicks and bites, a language that they knew all too well but proved to be far more obstinate than she gave them credit for. Her brats, beloved as they are, would suck her dry if given half a chance to do so, and it made her smile queerly proud to think of it. But alas, the night beckons and as such, she alters her course to stray away from Pangea.

She finds a familiar haunt - the Meadow.
It seems sparse in its population, even though she skirts those few that do life their heads and snort to her in passing. She ignores them, they’ll sleep and dream and moan over lost things that were never theirs’ to keep and she is one of those things that cannot be kept, sleeps little, and dreams a lot - dark dreams, of boar tusks and goat horns, cloven feet and fires in the flesh. Sinew thinks of death and decay, starlight and shards of ice, love and fear and in her thinking, discovers him - he reeks of it, death. Seems to rot from the inside out, and her black eyes find his putrid face in the dainty dark curve of night’s embrace.

“Cold out,” she murmurs, because it is a damp cold - not like the dry cold of Pangea, and she has not felt a cold like this in a long while. Or smelled a rot like his since she last stood in direct confrontation of her father and his fetid self as gobbets of flesh fell from his bones like snow from the trees. He reminds her of him - of Infection, but he is far too different to be him. Still, she dares not to come between him and the Night more than she already has but Sinew, is curious.

[velis]

I was certainly a darkly sight caped by my beloved. She annoyingly thrusted my sight; the blackness dripped right from my wetted gaze, gravitating with its sluggish blight. The stream of rot rolled into my nasals, arranging along the contours of my tongue through breaches of my mouth’s ceiling. A menacing grin sealed along my chapped gray lips as the decay set with the sinking cold.

Adoration was slathered thick against my pupils to only melt seamlessly into her lovely black. There was a bewitching excitement that swelled; but this was a short lived as another infringed. My peripheral vision groped the edges of this creature the moment it attempted communication, but, I was too engrossed in thought to render its meaning.

I tapped my nails, dragging my giant shadow to face the new company. With new perspective - my focus to pulled its flaring blush of flesh out from the nightly smolder. Its shade was not a sinful contrast and quite tenderly in shaped. Before a short sigh of advocacy, I discovered the extended presence of others. The air I had pulled rumbled deep inside, piercing apart my once sealed lips in the direction of the smaller ungulates. The air escaped with the putrid mark of my existence - yet its chemical makeup remained unchanged.

“Winters do not lure broods from their blankets of safety.”

A light mock of humor oiled the chilled grumbles that crept from my throat.

“I take it, …” my eyes festered to the lady’s “…you seek something.”

I did not anoint myself as ‘wise’, but, a quick game of judgement was always a treat.

V E | I S

If you see a light at the end – it’s just the sun in your eyes.

[sinew]

Contaminated, comes to her mind as she looks the putrid stallion over. Of course, the night lends him her guise well and allows him the ability to appear black and hale, with a bit of heft to him but Sinew can tell he is sick and rotten, - she can smell it on him, like a second skin he wears all too well. Still, the stink of carrion-flesh is not enough to keep her at bay, she is too bold, too curious, too fearless.

(Cannibal, she remembers naming him in her brain from the first time she laid eyes on him and felt him trying to suck on the broken bone of her fear - except she had none, and his nibbling power had crawled back into his skin, chastened by the bold face she turned him, staring the goat-god down until each of them bared their teeth in shared grins of secretive knowing that one could not best the other, not them, oh no.)

Contamination, she thinks, as she takes in the slack jaw and the feverish glint to his eyes that seemed fixed on nothing but the night. Sinew is sharp enough to recognize the adoration in his face that he keeps fixed upon the blackness of the sky, as if awaiting a benevolent kiss from it’s starless lips. She laughs, at the chilly grumble that comes from his mouth - she may be a brood, but not one blanketed in safety! Her lips caved, gave in to a mocking smile that kept her mouth soft and feminine (wily, even) as she replied, “Winter, no, but death and the night just might.”

But he presses on, insisting that she seeks something.
Does she?
No, she had the goat-god and his twin sons.

(Once, she had a grand adventure at a dragon’s side through the intestines of Time that brought her back a mare when she had left a filly. Once, she had his burning-winged daughter who spoke to her from inside her pregnant belly, a slithering whisper always in the back of her mind.)

No, she seeks nothing.
But she is still there.

She meets his eyes; “No, I seek nothing. Tell me, are you nothing because you smell like the night’s refuse of bone and stink.”

[velis]

Silence was violent as every second acquainted brasher emotions along the edges of my company’s profile. It was endearing, my awe soaking up every precious detail. The creature wore it well - sweetly sinking into its every contour. However, my afflictions ended with observation - from where its feels influenced was little concern to the fickle soul the endured me. It lacked the ability to carve into the sensation of others.

My understandings were partial to a more physical scrutiny. The shift of my blackly heaviness was the only indication of my progression to attain just that; a broader perspective now available to my blackish eyes. A succession of a womanly voice reached me, but, the result of my movement had not completed nor was it delayed as I crept to the creature’s side; my lips falling into it, following the same edges my sight had devoured moments ago.There was no taste that could envelop my tongue, yet, I perceived its every hair that fell victim between my galled fangs. Its every cluster that pulled for release.

There was a halo of decay that succeeded me as I completed my tread around this company. Without another step, my night receded my material presence in an effortless way

“She only calls few of us …”

There was a radical change in how my words manifested, each one softly dripped - suppled with the topic of my darling night.

“You humor me, company.” I dared a step forward, revisiting a closeness with the other. “Would I be mistaken that you are simply seeking out your own kind?”

My company’s riddles stirred a thrill, yet, I could not indulge with the allegation of being the remains of my beloved night. The meaning was taken literally, causing my mood to respectfully decay with the vile that breed inside me.

“Nothing is perception, I could be anything you want me to be.”

My neck descended my mouth just beneath the lobe of the creature’s ear. A blackly thick fluid crept from my lips, smothering against the other during the seconds I remained still. For sheer excitement - my teeth clasped this tight area of flesh, quickly slipping from the lubrication of my death.

That same moist gleam of death filled my eyes that now infected the woman before me.

“But, can you feel nothing?”

Provoked by the irony, a grin lurked to the corners of my lips.

V E | I S

My life is full of longing, but for what I'll never know. I've been drawn into the fire as I reap what I sow..

[sinew]

He never looks away from her;
Death has a hungry hard gaze. Others would shrink before it, but not her - not Sinew.

She is small only in size beneath his cold observing stare; too much mare in her plump robe of skin that soon feels the press of his lips in the places that only his eyes had been. There is a minute stiffening of her muscles as he trails an equally cold and observing touch along her flesh. It stems from the fact that none have touched her besides two stallions and her small bevy of foals. This is a first, that he should come so close and invade her space and her senses with more than the stark black sight of him and the putrid stink of him.

Sinew almost asked him who he spoke of in such reverence, but she know in a way that only their kind can know. It was none other than Death’s consort, Night, dark and witchy as only she can be. She could only smile at that, because the Night called to her too, more often than not. Night and Time and so much more.

“No,” she breathes to him as he surrounds her once more with his decomposing self.
(She is growing used to the smell of him, decomp and horse, and there is something earthy and welcome in it - like the way a worm burrows in and out of an eye socket.)

He continues to talk; it festers in her ears just before his mouth descends upon the lobe of one. It is not the half-bit left ear that he takes between his teeth but the unmarked right and she does not fight his hold on her, or tremor at the touch of the foul ichor that spills and bubbles from him onto her brow in sick benediction of death’s kiss.

(She never even thinks that the stink of him might stay with her for a long time, married to the fur of her face and that the gift-giver king might be jealous of this.)

“Is it not dangerous to suggest that you could be anything I want? That seems a heavy statement to make to someone barely met even if the Night knows us as some kind of kin to her.”
Sinew rolls her black eyes to his almost grinning face;
He was intriguing, to say the least and she liked his company.

Her laugh was a short sharp bark;
“I feel everything.”
But she does not tell him that she loves it.
(His teeth on her ear shook loose a memory, teased her in a way that Sinew has not ever been teased by a long-gone moment of her life. He is so like another she used to know, and a bit like her father and someone else that she knows more intimately than anyone else. Could he be some rare blend of Infection, Tarnished, and Pollock? Is that even possible?)

It further sparks her curiosity, her intent to remain.
The one thing she does not do is touch back, her lips seek not the rips in his flesh and the bits of bone that peek outward in pale gleams through black skin. She does not take a taste of the fluids that leak from him, for all that she is curious. Something holds her back, maybe the thought of him becoming anything she could want him to be but Sinew desires nothing more than to hold the reins of greatness in her teeth (like she does Pollock, and their two sons).

For now, she cannot take her eyes off of him.
“Anything,” she murmurs.

(ooc: sorry this is so late! i poofed due to life and didn't really tell anyone but wanted to continue this thread because Velis is awesome! <3)

[velis]

The blackness of the lady’s pupils beguiled my vision. I crept closer, intrigued as the blackest black of its eyes amplified. With each step - I tried to reveal every shade. I appeared to be commencing a psychic formality as I haunted over her, but this was false dedication as I could not apprehend a meaning from it. The moisture around its lovely mouth rippled a smirk that my predatory eyes could not resist. Only a stray wave, it had flattened before I could devour the sight.

I had nothing but my company’s words to feast on; causing my eyes to revert to my night. I was easily lost to her. In my wander, the pressure of the woman’s neck seemed to suddenly brush against my own; this was bound to occur with my little concern for space. The discourse compelled me to collapse against my company once more, my torn lips returned in eagerness to feel. I was numb to the satisfaction my sight contrived. The sensations I rendered in thought procreated a slight obsession.

“One would suppose… ” The onslaught of a riddle was gnawed by the bitter black excretions that were vindictive to my being;

“.. doesn’t your mind often intrude visions or thoughts? Some … that you.. would think never desiring?”

My vocals strained with every vibration against the tarred death that refused to pardon, but this did not hinder my few words from becoming many.

“How you want me is far from your control.”

The mind is our master and we are all held victim to its ploys. I feel when it festers the uncured death that burns a pull behind my eyes. This burn eradicates from the heat of foul feelings that my sweet night calms in the cool of her embrace. The chaos was welcomed and I would set fire to it myself if I could. After all, it was the only pain and relief I could sense.

My obsession of the woman’s detail was engulfed into a glimpse as her melodious, feminine voice acquainted me.

She whispers anything, yet I was eager for something.

V E | I S

My life is full of longing, but for what I'll never know. I've been drawn into the fire as I reap what I sow..

OOC / its funny because I also took a hiatus, and just came back today too. so welcome back! i'm excited to continue this one. 

[sinew]

He looms; more massive than the night, he leans over her and tries to look into her eyes in a way that is unnerving to her. No one has looked that deeply into her eyes before, either mesmerized by the animal-black color or them or what lies within but he does and it strikes a chord of barbaric familiarity with her - mare, stallion, and the night, they are little more than these things for a moment, and she holds her breath before letting go of it carefully.

(She spares but a single thought to her relationship to the gift-giver king of Pangea - he’d be jealous, no doubt, and she finds that she could care less. Neither of them are entirely committed to one another - each strays, though she never from him or the monstrous bloodline they are building. For once though, she thinks of the night and how he looms larger than it before her.)

Once more, his lips descend upon her in a black wave from a deep still lake that threatens to pull her under. He evokes such a base feeling from her that she has never felt before; his lips dribble and drool all over her as he makes his suppositions and she listens to them, curious in a way that she has never really been curious before. “We all desire and have desires, some fulfilled and others, not. What are your desires?” she asks, growing curiouser and curiouser by the moment as his malodor becomes more and more familiar to her, like the sickly sweet scent of mold and mildew.

“Why?” she prompts; marveling at how her want of him could be far from her control if he is so adamant that he could be anything she asks of him. Her brain plots and plans even in the midst of their riddling conversation and her black eyes catch the faintest uptick of eagerness in him, like a coiling of muscle beneath the skin - a readied snake about to strike. “What could you be to me?” she delves further, curiouser and curiouser at the company she keeps this night of all nights.

ooc: welcome back too! that kinda worked out perfectly then lol. and i'm excited to continue this as well because velis is love! <3

[velis]

If you see a light at the end - it’s just the sun in your eyes

There was a silver lining that accosted the edges of my company’s feminine form. It was modest and perfect. In splintered streaks it flooded into the milky pools that were native to her flesh. She was glowing and my eyes were unable to carry on view of it all.

My eyes, my dark black eyes detected the female’s attempt to harbor a tremble. I was curious how her lungs felt while holding it in and just as curious how to would expel. My closeness allowed me to pull in the air she had let go. It was different. Her body functioned in a way mine did not and could change the chemical makeup of the space that sealed us into this earth. What moved inside of her was a new interest discomposed as she attended to my hearing.

Desire. The girl entertains the idea which muses my thought. I desire nothing but the bitter touch of my night, sugared with the embraces of her darkest forms. My beloved enwreathes her blackness deep inside of my veins and deposits her heaviness in my chest at which beats when her adoration tempts the blight. I feel it as I crave it now.

“I never desire, if I do .. it is not for long.”

There was a gurgle in my throat as the spoil climbed.

“If I could speak a secret,”my neck narrowed below, my lips pursed as my whispers lunged into the female’s ear.

“I once had desired to understand the others and the makeup of their … groups”

I had wonder if she was one of them, she breathes after all.

An uneasiness caressed the structure of how I stood, my weight now distributed evenly as my limbs corrected themselves. To be one of them would betray my night. Desires are lead by temptation, it did not mean we had to act on them… all.

“I could be a threat to you.. but I am not.”

My voice softened as my death ripened, they could fall smoothly from my lips into the air. This was my attempt to best translate my own riddles fogged by the foreign action of communication. She felt normal. She made me feel.. normal.

[sinew]

It is hard to take her eyes off him;
What desires lurk therein? She can touch him, can see and smell him, can sense his nearness like a cold shadow that hangs over her but she cannot guess at a single thing that could burn in him as hot as a star.

He admits as much, that he doesn’t and if so, not for very long.
It seems a shame, she thinks. He has the night and his death but nothing else and no reason to change that. But if anyone could change his mind, it is someone like her - like Sinew, painted and plump, brutal in thought and action despite the soft look of her. Or not so much brutal as sly, like a fox. And she smiles up at him, slyly.

(His desire is the Night and her fond dark embrace of him, she can see that much in the curve of his dead leaking eyes.)

Lips dark and fluid, find her ear again and he asks to reveal a secret --
How can she deny him? “Go ahead,” she murmurs, as quick as can be but he is already speaking it and she is hushed by his frank admission.

Others, and their groups - herds, kingdoms. He longs to be other than an outcast, she thinks. Other than Night’s consort. More, maybe. Then again, she is plump and living, and he is a caricature of death - a sad sack of bones and flesh and splashing putridity and fluids. She senses opportunity here and like the fox, she seizes the chicken by the neck.

“You could belong but never succumb to being just like them. There is a place where we are together but separate in our natures and our needs, we just use the land and pledge some sort of loyalty to a king. He’d like you, I think. You are death walking, death personified and he might be fascinated by you, as I am.” Her own admission as she rolls an eye up to him. She can sense his unease more than feel it, though it feels like a strange tightening of air and muscle next to her.

“It does not mean you must give her up,” she coos, turning her head a fraction to run her lips along the underside of his jaw. “She is your mistress and she always will be, but you could learn - could know of the Others, and what it is like to be them.”

He grows more ripe, more deathly in his stink as he lowers his voice in admonition.
I could be a threat to you… but I am not.

“I know,” she offers by way of small soft assurance and another gentle touch of her lips to his flaky fleshy cheek. She is not trying to be sly now, there is something genuine about her sudden softness - something almost motherly. “You could but you won’t, like you would be to Others.” It is because they are alike and not, children of the Night (and other things, like Death and Time).