12-13-2016, 07:57 AM
He smiled that dark smile of his. The vagabond prince of Mars was fleshing out his body, his soul filling to the brim with the raw power of collecting his just rewards. Phynn—the lemming. Ruan—the heart. And Ecco—the body. He reached out his leather glove to gather her by the throat; in his mind’s eye, she was choking beautifully, dripping pleasure like black satin falling from her shoulders into a pool at her feet. She did not fear him, this much was obvious; what he had not counted on was that she would accept his invitation to dance with the devil with such an expectation, and complete aplomb… as if she’d been born to swim amongst the fires of Hell.
Ecco.
Such an interesting piece of flesh. She was smart, and she feared nothing. She did not even fear Deimos—a rarity for him. His heart rattled around inside its prison of a ribcage—those charred bones lacerating that useless organ until it was spewing thick black sludge through his body. It was what kept him going, what kept him rolling like a tank; tangled muscles that were ever wrapping around him, reknitting skin to bone. He was large, black and imposing. From his nose to his rump, he was monochrome—save the thick white scars that were slashed up and down his body. And those large wings—he held them to his body, but they were their own creation. Yes, his body—his recreation—was almost complete, and this slip of a thing was looking at him as the prisoner who was eying her last meal.
His red eyes take note of the fact that her nostrils are flared. His tail flicks, warping around his body with a snap to his flank, like a demon cracking a whip. If she wanted to taste power, let her stare. He too found that he was enjoying the scent that rolled off of her—because she smelled like darkness. Luscious and perfect, she was grey, almost purple—the colors of royalty and neutrality. Power that could come from any source. Her scent was intoxicating and her velvety voice beckoned to him like a lover.
She knew what he wanted; she was desperate for it. An exchange; a transaction. Nothing more than a one night stand--but one that they would both enjoy.
He approaches. Those wings, they cannot wait anymore. They have been patient… angrily pulsing looking for the right body to sink into. Words like poison sink deep into her brain as he raises those great leather fingers and sinks them directly into her flesh—a searing power that returns all that she holds dear. This will not hurt, my little funeral pyre he croons to her with a sneer. Let her see if she doesn’t fear him just a little after this rather intimate encounter. But you know you have something I want. And I have something you want. So take back your power, and using that, you shall grant me back… a body.
He snarls with glee, the glowing sensation seeping from the painless wounds he has inflicted, transferring blood magic. He would finally be restored… and she could go back to her useless life with her mother.
But the son of Mars is not all-knowing. He does not know that his words can be twisted, and that someday, he might get more than he ever bargained for. Ecco’s song gets into his head, and there it buries itself; withering away at his brain, working her on magic—
On him.
DEIMOS
cry ‘havoc’ and let slip the dogs of war…
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