02-25-2017, 10:43 AM
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)
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)