01-09-2017, 04:56 PM
You’re mine! she says.
He stops his assault. There was nothing else he could do. Deimos, son of Mars, had been called out by a child. He turns, his muscles moving of their own accord, and he reins in his wings so that they are settled neatly on his back. He takes a step, then two. And he turns to face her—
And he laughs.
A thick, raspy laugh that comes from his gut, tickling the jugular vein, until his whole body is shaking with it. For such a man as he to laugh—it was rare. It may have even been a first. The sound is foreign, even to his own ears, but it soon turns dark, and he lowers his head, his read eyes leveling her with a coldness that belied the heat that lay beneath their color, boiling underneath his very skin.
“You—“ He spits the word out, as if it were a burnt piece of food. Or something rotten that had no business being anywhere near him. “—are not even fit to tend my wounds, much less inflict them upon me.” He walks up to the girl, exhaling audibly, his bones creaking under the weight of his own body, as if it would collapse on him at any moment.
“Do you hear that, Child?” He emphasizes the word, pushing into her brain, invading her thoughts, taking up her space. “I am the stuff of nightmares, you foolish thing. And your dear mother threw herself off a cliff to avoid your father. You want to belong to heaven… but you have one foot in the bowels of hell.”
He smiles darkly at her, pushing his weight to the right as he comes within striking distance. His left wing reaches out, grabbing her by the neck and drawing her in close. Deimos pulls back his head to reveal a hefty set of yellow fangs—and like a lovers embrace, he reaches in, sinking into the flesh on the side of her neck, to be buried underneath her mane. He drinks from her, bearing himself into her soul, boring memories and images of what a true warrior must endure; the death. The dismemberment. The blood. The stench.
He pulls back, the smell of her on his lips. He does not smile, but he makes sure Raeg’n knows his smugness. “Your mother is dead. And your father is the Devil himself. Shatter your illusions, Raeg’n, before they destroy you. If you wish that, please feel free to find me any time. I would be more than willing to do so for you—any time you wish.”
“And yes, I know you think of me with lust, you dirty little girl. Do yourself a favor. Give into the darkness. We have cookies.”
He stops his assault. There was nothing else he could do. Deimos, son of Mars, had been called out by a child. He turns, his muscles moving of their own accord, and he reins in his wings so that they are settled neatly on his back. He takes a step, then two. And he turns to face her—
And he laughs.
A thick, raspy laugh that comes from his gut, tickling the jugular vein, until his whole body is shaking with it. For such a man as he to laugh—it was rare. It may have even been a first. The sound is foreign, even to his own ears, but it soon turns dark, and he lowers his head, his read eyes leveling her with a coldness that belied the heat that lay beneath their color, boiling underneath his very skin.
“You—“ He spits the word out, as if it were a burnt piece of food. Or something rotten that had no business being anywhere near him. “—are not even fit to tend my wounds, much less inflict them upon me.” He walks up to the girl, exhaling audibly, his bones creaking under the weight of his own body, as if it would collapse on him at any moment.
“Do you hear that, Child?” He emphasizes the word, pushing into her brain, invading her thoughts, taking up her space. “I am the stuff of nightmares, you foolish thing. And your dear mother threw herself off a cliff to avoid your father. You want to belong to heaven… but you have one foot in the bowels of hell.”
He smiles darkly at her, pushing his weight to the right as he comes within striking distance. His left wing reaches out, grabbing her by the neck and drawing her in close. Deimos pulls back his head to reveal a hefty set of yellow fangs—and like a lovers embrace, he reaches in, sinking into the flesh on the side of her neck, to be buried underneath her mane. He drinks from her, bearing himself into her soul, boring memories and images of what a true warrior must endure; the death. The dismemberment. The blood. The stench.
He pulls back, the smell of her on his lips. He does not smile, but he makes sure Raeg’n knows his smugness. “Your mother is dead. And your father is the Devil himself. Shatter your illusions, Raeg’n, before they destroy you. If you wish that, please feel free to find me any time. I would be more than willing to do so for you—any time you wish.”
“And yes, I know you think of me with lust, you dirty little girl. Do yourself a favor. Give into the darkness. We have cookies.”
DEIMOS
cry ‘havoc’ and let slip the dogs of war…
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