|
|
Post by taybay on May 16, 2009 23:11:35 GMT -5
The hours. The minutes. The seconds. They all ticked by noticed by the patriarch. Each thundering movement echoed with the ever-familiar metronome stationed within a part of his cerebrum. But that worked endlessly - processing information and deciphering his next executed movement. Coming up with the cruel comments spewed from velvet curtains of onyx. He was brutal - emotionless except for the small bouts of mockery, or amusement that passed faster than the flies that dotted his stygian base.
But these vermin were exceedingly annoying today; and Art found his banner constantly swishing to remove his blankets of the insects. If they could have insecticide for horses out here, he would have it.
Shaking his shank and sending his tassels fluttering into the zephyr [ before resting on his chest and bosom once more ] , occs of sienna observed his precious territory for incoming equines. All the ones he had encountered so far were female, and believe me, he had no problem with that. He enjoyed tormenting the other epicene. But their intellect lacks. If you could match this baron, he would find you respected and might think of you as more than simply a fuckable doll.
But there was no one bothering the stallion for the moment. Peace was rendered on the home front. [ as far as peace goes ; here. ] His pace more relaxed as his sinew pumped beneath their rind; seeming to want to burst forth from the skin that held his liagments in place. Although he was at lax, his movements were still stunning. From the half-pass performed across the open field of now ash to the extended canter that his father had shown him. When you have moves, you impress the ladies, when you impress the ladies, you get your spawn entering the world at a faster and faster rate. Wasn't that the point? Maybe he stuck his implement into one to many whores, but if you flaunted it, he wanted it. Not his fault. He was a built sex machine. I suppose you could say he is one a quest to get girls undressed, in a way.
Paper thins dilated to their full circumference; exposing the pink webbing beneath their partners that they were normally stuck so close against. Roses lifted from their coffins to erect. So he would have company today? Ugh. So wonderful. Rolling his occs in their deathbeds; the bruno proceeded at the three-beat staccato that allowed his masculine physique the most appealing look. He wasn't going to be arrogant. He was going to be... natural. For this was a natural gate indeed.
Her scent mingled along with the aroma of ash. The sweetest bouquet to ever tingle in his passages as he forced back a grumble in greeting. Movements taking on a predatory slink; irons punishing the troposphere yet no sounds echoed through the desolation that surrounding the knight and this newcomer.
some are born great. some achieve greatness. and some have greatness thrust upon them.
[/color] [/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote] |
|
|
|
Post by Random on May 17, 2009 16:21:00 GMT -5
Her agent of chaos [/color] {K A V I R A}[/right] Bloodied pistons carried the femora into the soot gorged land, delicate nares taking in the scent softly and letting it momentarily gyrate around in her nostrils. The stench of the land signified she had entered fire territory, and with this realization she merely flicked her deranged cords in cognizance. Kavira had wandered about this valley for some time now, merely being an observer to the way things and equines ticked around here. But now she was time to join in on the action, stir a little chaos into this repetitive land. And what better way to do that then have a through and through water mare saunder into a powerful fire stags herd?
Fire was a greedy little bitch of nature’s creation. It spread with carnivorous fingers to consume all other walks of life, having no respect for even things it thrived on. It will continue to burn and destroy all the things it needs to survive until none is left and it slowly dies out. Though by the time that has past it has left much damage in its wake, unless aqua puts it out of its misery before more destruction could be formed. Though oddly enough this chaotic wench only wishes to feed the fire, and watch with joyous pools as it slowly takes its last breath.
That is what Kavira planned to do now by stepping into a fire benders land, merely taunting him to come and play her little games. She would twist her way into his life somehow, through measures most would probably consider unworthy of efforts. But she plays for the long run, only focusing on the results of her ploys. Then when certain pieces were set in place and met, she would watch the stag burn in his own tortured flames. The thought she might be the victim of another’s scheme certainty entered her mind more the once in her past of six rotations, as it did now. But she relied on the fact she was a smart vix, and if her words of deception wouldn’t get her out of a sticky situation her daggers would. Whether it be by strikes or strides it didn’t matter, whatever would work in the situation more strategically. Though don’t be fooled, she never runs away. She merely escapes until she can strike at a more opportune time for herself.
Chocolate optics surveyed the land she had wandered into, though any warm or comforting glitter had long been lost from her pools. They were merely used for sight alone now, emotions only being distractions that had long since left her bod. As a result she constantly seemed cold and distant, something that her orbs conveyed with great strength. For now all they saw was dirt, the land barren from any vegetation that sustained equine life. Here and there a charred carcass of a tree was left, and this she supposed was where the overwhelming scent of ash originated. Nevertheless she continued onward, moving her crimson mass with ease. The vix wasn’t unnaturally tall, though she certainly was not on the short spectrum either. Her silhouette against the setting sun might intrigue any stallion that still had his balls, but once another inspected her closely they would discover scars, bloodstains and thoroughly used muscles that would surely label her a worthy opponent after all. Or the logical, sane ones did anyway. Not that she expected all of them to be like that, or else she would never find pleasure in the primarily numb word she resided in.
Ebonite figure moved at a swift pace to the awaiting vix, for she had immediately halted her pistons once seeing she had found an victim. There was no reason to go after him like she was asking for trouble, it was always best to let the stags find her. Especially if they were a powerful one like he presented himself to be. His broad figure pleased her, knowing that she was going to most certainly tested in strength if not already beat. Though many a large figure didn’t have the brain to match, and only his words and reaction to her own would answer that important question. No words yet slipped from her lips, silence being nothing foreign to the wench. He also could speak first; it always paid to be the patient one that sized up your opponent first before taking action. And so she would be, for many things Kavira may be, including diabolical, chaotic and maybe even a little insane, but one thing she most certainly was not was impatient or just down right stupid.
|
|
|
|
Post by taybay on May 17, 2009 17:34:40 GMT -5
That scent. It drew his primitive urnings to the surface. So intoxicating - alluring in a manner that now other vixen had placed before his nasal passages in a time even the great pasha could not remember. Her being clothed in rich blankets of crimson - simple yet radiating the elements of the fire nation. For they truly were a nation - a king with his subjects and those subjects forming adjacent monarchies beneath his rule. Art could tell though, that this enticing little gem was not of these lands - nor even of this element. She was a water equine; clean and thorough like a warm knife cutting through butter. But what was she doing intruding 'pon the lands of this stallion? Come to quelch the flame that flickered within the shallow depths of his pupil or mainly disconcern the land and become a soul within the nation's confides? That was absurd; but he supposed it could happen - maybe.
She stood like a dolt in his terrain. Either surveying the soot laced objects surrounding her or simply being an imbecile as he had seen many mares come and go here. She was nothing new - despite her deep heat that he had a hard time hiding the swelling urge in his sheath to keep his sword withdrawn into its casing. This was not the time - nor even the place to prove his masculinity. Hell, he didn't even have to unsheath his implement to acheive that title. You could see it in every movement that echoes through his regal carcass; the calculated actions or plans that formulated in that cerebrum of his. Art was the epitome of both the male mind and the male physical attributes. Hope you could handle it.
Her statue wasn't larger than the doves that had been entrapped in the webbing of the Knight's cabinet. Like an unweary fly flying into the its own demise merely by stupidity. Although she was taller. But by her own intellect, he would judge according to her answers from his rather simplistic yet grueling questionaires he seemed to judge before the incoming whores. It was a habit of his - and no matter how much he tried to curb that habit - it would continue to raid his personality and rape the victims of their wits and words. Such a problem, for you.
Standing infront - yet slightly to the right of the trespassing dulcinea - Art's roses erected in more acquistion before falling to their acquired coffins without much flair. Paper thins dilating to bring in her tangy, sweet aroma in greedy gulps of his balloons. Lucky for you, you were beautiful. Unfortunate that that means nothing in my book other than a canidate for being brutally raped by the hellion. Wouldn't that be the experience of your life, honey? And he would enjoy the blood that rushed from the holes he gouged into your flesh; feeling the hot liquid flush over his salmon implement and only hurrying the pleasure that robbed his senses and echoed in his hefty carcass. Wanting to hear the screams of pain - not pleasure that escaped your mug as I tore your vaginal opening with relish. Like opening a bottle - the wine from that bottle the carnage that had once been so warm and clean inside your veins. Art liked that about fucking his whores; how they found him beautiful - but the deadliest componant to their game of survival they had encountered in some time.
That same cool stare passed between them for an unmarked bench of time. Time meant nothing to these equines; to these four-hooved beasts who roamed the Earth as god's own perfect pocessions. Believing they were gods. Believing they were better than the ones who thought they were the gods. Then proving to them that they werent. Tis' an intruder. One of matron parts with a fragrance not known of the lands of rankling and jilt. The land cloaked in soot and hidden from the weary passers. In the moments when his mechanical alto notes filled the silence that accompanied the two equines; Art had caught himself looking anywhere but on the figureine before his own rind. Her importance had surely lessened as he pre-occupied himself by staring across the platuea of desperation. Only moving when he tore his pin-pointed gaze from the abyss and onto her mask of calm and carelessness. He saw abit of himself in that blank stare - and that was abrupt.
Such a whore of contrasting elementals coming 'pon my lands? Chackle - eerie and foreboding - escaping his trachea as the stallion cuircuited the femoral with a predatory stance to his movements. Detecatable enough to allow the instinctive feeling of fleeing to register in the opposing's own working organism. Sneer wrapping his velvet mug and contorting the well-chiseled bruno's facial markings in both disinterest and digust before being replaced by that characteristic blank tabluea that invoked mystery in the sire. Thou speak. Let your lyrics become swift and in accordance, m'lady. Wasting thy time is unfortunate - for both I and you.
Music: starstrukk - 3oh3!
Muse: excellent
Notes: none
Words: 887
|
|
|
|
Post by Random on May 17, 2009 20:02:40 GMT -5
Her agent of chaos [/color] {K A V I R A}[/right]
Yes, the devious vix was most certainly in heat. Her scent flooded even her own nares, though it was merely a normal addition to the multitude of stenches her nostrils disposed of as nothing important. Except it was significant when dealing with a stallion, because nearly all of them will go crazy when the wind carries her scent to their nasal passages. As did this handsome stag as he so proudly pranced up to like she was already his. Well Kavira has a message for you, and it isn’t a pretty one. Wise not to underestimate this bitch, or she’ll stab your back the moment she gets the chance. If that is what her plan is, of course. Let’s not forget she’s diabolical in addition to devious, chaotic, wicked oh and I suppose beautiful though that’s beside the point.
Disheveled ropes swished absentmindedly, wild strays of scarlet straying out behind her similarly dyed carcass. She was quite aware this didn’t hide her scent very well, though that wasn’t her goal. She didn’t really give a rats ass if he went batshit on her because he was overwhelmed by the calling. Because if his tool ever slipped out of his sheath while he was taking a step closer to her, she would surely bite it off if it was the last thing she did. No-one ever took advantage of her without her consent, it wasn’t even a fleeting thought that she might be getting too ahead of herself. Yes, she had been raped. But it was all part of the plan, so maybe it couldn’t even be considered a violation of her rights. Not that the pitiful stag enjoyed it either, for her emotionless nature did not suddenly disappear when a beast decided to stick his tool within her caverns. Pain was nothing foreign, rather almost the opposite and it ended up being an almost pleasant experience. Either way, he was killed practically immediately following, so what’s the point of dwelling on the past?
Through all these thoughts and ponders, still not even a flicker of emotion was revealed on her tattered façade. She was truly a numb wench, and it was rare to break through hardened layers of callous flesh. Trained at an early age, or maybe she was even born this way? Years had passed and after a while all the frivolous little details blended together. It was best to focus on the present, and even the future if time allowed it. On this occasion it did not, as the nameless beast interrupted thoughts with equally cold pools of darkness. Harsh was an understatement, though no fear passed through her veins and she stood her ground in simple silence. He was going to speak first, she had decided that long ago, and he would do so. Even if nothingness consumed them.
Fortunately her stubbornness needn’t be shown at this particular time or meeting, and he spoke his haughty words. Expected they were, though content were suspiciously spoken in almost a rehearsed tone. For now he showed no signs of foul play, and she couldn’t decide to be relieved or disappointed at the fact. Now he browsed his own land impassively, as if she wouldn’t be considered a threat by him in his wildest dreams. Though again not such a surprise, he seemed to be the type to think of mares as only his own personal pleasure devices. Nevertheless he burdened himself to return his gaze to her and spill more nugatory words that she merely flicked her harks at in symbolization of her apathetic feelings for him so far. If he wanted to act disinterested in her, then she could surely do the same. In truth he wasn’t anything special so far anyway, though she surely kept senses open to detect if this fact was proven false.
Optics caught the first warning as he danced around her lesser physique as if herding her into one spot. Though starting to feel a tinge of agitation at this maneuver she remained calm, effectively ignoring harsh commits he spilled so skillfully. He could call her a whore as much as he wished, the only response to that would be a continued glare from her senseless pools of sepia that followed him as he continued his round about path. Sneer started to form as he ordered her to speak, and she purposely remained silent for some time before finagling succumbing to the order. All in due time he would pay…for now it was only a matter of pleasing this wicked brute. “You expect me to enlighten you on the reason I chose to intrude upon your land?” she questioned with her own smirk grabbing at the edges of tortured velvets. She expertly twisted her tone to remain dispassionate, no matter how much poison wanted to lace with ice to form intimidating words. For she knew this patron was not to be messed with as others were, a different approach was necessary. “Unfortunately it’s a rather innocent reason…“ she continued, enunciating her starting word very slowly but then proceeded to spill the rest rather quickly so as to not leave time for an interruption from the other party. Though now she choose to end her words abruptly and twist around to face the demon head on, though all body language still remained deadened to this world. This one would be hard to break or manipulate, whichever her plans led her too. But things would go according to plan in the end, they always did.
|
|
|
|
Post by taybay on May 17, 2009 20:48:42 GMT -5
If she wanted to play this game; he would be more than enthralled to become a participant. She was beautiful - he would give her that. But the rose was tampered with; her womb already been claimed - either by force or her own want. Either way, it lessened the first meeting attraction he had called himself upon when she had stepped into his terrain and stood before him as if a useless lump of clay. In his oculars - she truly was. Not that it mattered to her, what would she care about? No spirit burned in those eyes, not even the shallowest flicker of life resided in the depths of mahogany. She wasn't even going to make this interesting. But if she decided to stand there like an object; she would be mangled like one.
He wished her silent. If you were going to come along this topsoil and stand there like a dolt - then he wanted you silent. So as the vixen turned her diaphragm to face his and spoke; the onyx knight began his circling once more.
He wasn't trying to herd her nor claim her as his own. He didn't care for her anymore and disinterest flickered aimlessly in his sienna gaze before dropping into an abyss of nothingness. Each footfall seemed to echo in the eerily comfortable air that surrounded the two equines. Yet - the oddest thing about his trekking 'round her physique was that he didn't look at her as he continued to drive his bodice forward. Not one glance in her direction. Lens remained trained forward as if something in the dirt had fascinated him beyond belief. Cerebrum calculating her cold soprano harmonics and seemed to dance across his tongue as own alto notes formed in his skull. Banner swishing ever so often to rid the King of the flies that tormented his sheened onyx blankets; their buzzing seems to bounce within the walls of his coned malarkies.
A well-thought duration of time had passed before the Pasha had decided to look once at the maiden he had been circling for an hour or even more. The treads where he had marked worn into the soil as tassels shook along his well-muscled shaft. She could hurt him - but here is a lesson darling. You are mortal too. You can bleed. You can hurt. You can die. Sorry to give you the benefit of the doubt, but you can. That was a rhetorical question. It was a simple remark; and even know the knight's gaze shifted from her anatomy. Not because he was a coward; nor because he found her an opponent. Merely because he had something better to look at. Innocence actions have innocent meanings - my friend. Welcome to Tristeza. Fool. Wicked smile cursed his handsome features as he approached her with a suave movement of limbs; lips cursing across her spinal column. Daring her. Try me wench. haven't your mother ever taught you? Never underestimate your enemies.
Music: he ain't the leaving kind - rascal flatts
Muse: better than i thought
Notes: none
Words: 546
|
|
|
|
Post by Random on May 17, 2009 21:47:56 GMT -5
Her agent of chaos [/color] {K A V I R A}[/right] Soundless. The land had quite literally no noises to be heard through twin zeniths, no matter how hard they twisted and flicked in different directions to gather sounds. No birds chirped happily in the greenery above, for there were none to be found. No wind whipping at her ecru drab, sending its whistles deep within her auditories. For no matter how flat and barren the place she stood upon was, it was as windless as soundless. This was something not particularly unnerving, just something that heightened her curiosity a level. She could hear her own soft breaths being taken, soft and routine in nature. One more sound evaded the silence although, one that she wished would stop very soon. The detested sound being of the gladiators hoof falls on the hard ground he circled her upon, something that her optics soon grew tired of following and had since remained blank in stare at the wide open terra.
Virile’s optics stayed carefully away from her own, not even momentarily letting them slide over the curvature of her bronzed chassi. Kavira had no doubt the hessian was doing this intentionally, trying desperately to get under her obdurate skin. But if she acted out, he would only win this round and she wasn’t about to let that happen if she still had control over the situation. So she ignored him once again, letting his movements and aversion of sight not bother her in the slightest. He was merely becoming bored with her because she wasn’t as lively as the ones who kicked and screamed and begged for their life the moment harsh verses were spewed by his imposing frame. Pussies, they all were. Whiny little bitches that deserved to die, and quite a few had by her own daggers. Not that it helped her in this situation, as the only bitch present was herself.
Everything continued in routine for what seemed like ages, but the only thing that told the time was the sun slowly crawling through the heavens. And her pools of acrid were not focused on that, merely spacing out into the time. Finally his movements ceased and she absentmindedly straightened her posture, as if she had fallen asleep during those hours of useless circling. She did not feel intimidated or devastated at his lack of attention, although she did find herself unfortunately sharing his boredom with the situation. She even started to wonder if livening up her act would do any harm in the long run. Before decisions could be made he spoke though, and she listened intently despite her previous disappointments with him. Yet again, speaking as if he just enjoyed listening to himself. He wasn’t clever nor witty, and if she didn’t have complete control over her emotions and actions she would have surely given him a much needed blow to his ego.
Another insult was lashed, though this one was merely smirked upon. If she reveled in irony she would surely sprouted a puddle for him to look at himself in, to see who the fool really was. Though calm was still efficiently kept, and she only watched and stood exceptionally still as his velveteens caressed her scarred hide softly though only common sense told her things would not stay so peaceful for long. That was not a problem for her, pain was a welcome relief to the numbness. Something she had endured since just a babe, and something she would continue to endure ‘til her life ended, another thing the curious mare didn’t fear. Even though body told no lies or truths or even a reaction to his action, maw opened to reveal accompanying sounds to convey her feelings on the matter. If they were the true ones or not, none could tell. She often mixed the truth with lies that it itself was hidden from her. “Mmmmmhmmm,” she vocalized, almost resulting in a moan but held back just a bit to keep him guessing. It could have been a mumbled word of contempt, or possibly a moan of pleasure. His guess.
Hormones stirred within, for it wasn’t just stallions that desired sex. Mares wanted the same pleasure as they did, only most of them did not know the way to manipulate the situation to get what they wanted. This mare did, and even though her body spelled differently she didn’t feel like having this stallion rape her at this moment. Tomorrow, possibly, depending on her mood. For now she just wanted to play some games, is it that hard just to play along? A sigh of frustration almost escaped, something that rarely happened with her fine tuned control of emotions. Though she didn’t let that reach her, best to keep the eye on the prize after all. “Fool or not, am I entitled to ask your calling?” she suddenly spoke, whipping her skull ‘round to face his cranium while it still traced her spine. She knew she had yet to spill hers, but she wasn’t about to unless the situation needed it. Now she purposely let a flicker of curiously pass through pools of rust and façade alike, acting like she genuinely just wanted to get to know this handsome stag. Truly she just needed to know as much as possible about him, in order to break him down piece by piece.
|
|
|
|
Post by taybay on May 17, 2009 22:05:16 GMT -5
He didn't expect her to take him seriously. He spoke no wit or cunning because whatever he did speak; she would simply imply as stupid as the last sentence. There was no use wasting precious oxygen on such a figurine that would be content to stare into the abyss for quite some time. Along with him. The only thing they had shared other than the occasional vacant or smug look from her or the disinterested and bland look from the masculine she so wanted to wiggle under the skin of.
But you weren't going to do it. Throw a tantrum, stand there, mock him. But he would continue to circle your entity until it drove you made because he could. He did things because he could, because it pleased him. He would stop once in awhile to mangle your carcass with an jerk of his enamels across your flesh - but then he would continue the circuiting not missing a one-step beat. But the moan or whatever had been sprouted from her stage meant nothing to him. No pleasure rippling his taunt hide as the pasha only continued his inspection of the rock solid femoral.
Whiskers danced down her girth and towards her underbelly where he gently tickled her flesh with his satin surface. Nuzzling her almost as he worked across her skin to her haunches with an confidence in his movements. He had done this before - and she probably knew it. At the moment - he didn't care what she thought, what she knew, what she assumed by him. If she wanted to be impassive, so he could be too.
When he finished his scrutinizing of her diaphragm; he began the trekking again. 'Round and 'round her bodice with a lackluster in his steps as crown almost dragged the Earth in his lethargy. Could she see the stage act? Maybe, it seemed like she could see right through him. And as she spoke, he simply ignored her. What would be the point? She was just a formation, remember.
Music: stupid boy - keith urban
Muse: so pitiful
Notes: none
Words: 371
|
|
|
|
Post by Random on May 18, 2009 15:09:46 GMT -5
Her agent of chaos [/color] {K A V I R A}[/right]
[»]Withering in her own sick game, Kavira was. Quickly tiring of the continuous circuiting the silent brute accomplished without let up. Even as she spilled possibly enticing words, he simply ignored her and remained circling her with seemingly no intentions other then getting on her nerves. Cranium struggled to sense meaning in this, but it could find none. Maybe he was just doing this, because he could? The thought seemed absurd, a sure waste of time in her eyes. But he was an interesting hellion indeed, and this could quite possibly be the case. And if that were so, then she would merely let him be.
[»]The crimson vix had no doubt in her mind that she had started this little game, and he was so graciously playing along. But she didn't enjoy this mocking silence, and she mot definitely did not enjoy being ignored. All the same, she wasn't about to fail at her own game, and so her tarnished mug spoke no more words. She would not waste words on this colt if he was not going to be receptive, and so in reply to his silence she gave him more silence. No words were going to be spewed until he did likewise, then maybe he would earn them. 'til then, touch luck getting her to speak.
[»]Standing impeccably still the icy femora stood, even when greedy ivories grazed her mahogany pelt and threatened to spill blood not even a twitch was to be felt. Then a light touch was felt upon her underbelly, instincts only urging her to lash out as his moved slowly to her haunches. Though she did not, for he didn't even finish his course and resumed circuiting her while she remained still and silent. Of course in deep within her folds of heartlessness and impassive persona she was utterly pissed. Though nothing showed this emotion as hidden rage boiled deep within. The only movement of this distant fae was of her cherry silks thrashing about her hide, warding off the bloodsuckers that attempted to take her flesh and blood in the summer heat.
[»]Then, as she mind wandered into nothingness, a marvelous idea took shape in her cranium. Rather oddly enough she didn’t even weigh the consequences of what this action would take, and instead closed her eyes in subtle concentration and willed the heavens to open its floodgates and let it rain upon them. It obeyed her commands swiftly, a few stray drops of aqua splashing playfully on the dusty terrain. Then it obeyed her silent command to strengthen, and droplets began to become larger and much more in quantity.
[»]This would certainly bring down any fire hellion’s spirits, and hoped it wouldn’t be different for this irritating stag. After all rain was just nature’s remedy to a wildfire, and that was exactly what this devilish stallion was. Best of all, he could only assume that she had brought this upon them. He had no proof other then the stench of salt upon her hide that signified her of water heritage. Maybe it was just nature’s way of cooling down the sweltering heat the consumed them in the dreaded season called summer. A relief really to shielded by clouds from the suns rays that so harshly bake upon their backs.
[»]Oh, and the game was still on. For she hadn’t interrupted soundlessness by any unnecessary words, she had merely thrown some aqua into the mixture. After all, she couldn’t have done anything lest she fall asleep. Truthfully this baron was becoming quite a drag, he really needed to pick things up. Though even if he didn’t, she would continue to stand here being circled by the relentless ebon figure, for she never gives up and doesn't plan to start now of all times.
|
|
|
|
Post by taybay on May 18, 2009 23:06:13 GMT -5
Tell me darling. What is the point of being receptive when you cannot obtain the same traits in return? Why should I give you something like I am handing you a goody bag and I have to work for your so 'prized' attention? You are insanely confused, love. She seemed to become more or less irritated in the circles that Art had only began to complete and more or less began to also like. Even though it shown not over that chiseled pate of hers - but you could feel it in the differing atmospheres that seemed to mesh with the two equines that seemed to be too stubborn to become compliant to each other's wishes. In all honesty - he was getting some sadistic smugness out of her growing annoyance. Yes, he was doing it because he could and he would continue to do it until you cracked or walked off. And if you did attempt to meander from his diaphragm, he would simply fallow you like a puppy would follow its owner on a leash.
You think he wanted to hear you speak? He could care less, he was merely saving oxygen if you remained quiet. His breaths coming in soft puffs; the slow exhale of carbon dioxide through slightly dilated wafers before the deep intake of oxygen that stretched his balloons and seemed to energize his body with each new wave of un-used molecules that flowed through his hefty diaphragm. He was a big boy - and he needed alot of this substance to be maintained upon. Even if it was soot-flavored and like inhaling second-hand smoke. But nevertheless, it was essential.
His circuiting had been mindless circles that had become countless hours before. So when rain spiked the air in a sudden and abrupt outburst of liquid; the Fire king took it without a single mis-step. Certainly - he didn't like the rain. No Fire being did - it squelched the powerful inferno that burned within their bodies. So Art simply increased the temperature. Not of the surroundings 'round the bruno, but his own internal temperature. Now the drops that fell around the sooty topsoil weren't rolling from his dark-shaded physique but sizzling and drying as soon as they contacted with his being. Smoke rising in the cooling air as the knight continued his aimless wandering 'round her physique. He had a pretty good inkling that it was her that had brought on the torrential rain - but since that had somehow formed this vow of silence - no accusations escaped this larynx as Art just continued without thinking. The drops nothing to him now; just a sizzling sound and it boiled to evaporation.
Music: trying to stop your leaving - dierks bently
Muse: worse than for sky, but still pretty good
Notes: i kind of like the game they are playing, it is truly enthralling and even though she seems to one up him at times - he immediately counteracts. i love it. ^^
Words: 518
|
|
|
|
Post by Random on May 19, 2009 15:16:55 GMT -5
Her agent of chaos [/color] {K A V I R A}[/right]
[»]Thoughts brewed deep within the bloodwash’d wench’s chaotic mind, many of them having to do with this nettlesome obsidian solider that continued his paces around her unmoving corpse. Thankfully she was in no rush, or else her plans would have certainly been ruined. For surprisingly enough this stag was just as stubborn as herself, a thing she rarely found in other equines. An infinitesimal piece of her heart was slightly moved at this, a piece of her throbbing ice shedding a layer to give her the emotion of marvel. This of course didn’t even make it close to her outer layers; it was merely a stray feeling that she quickly corralled back into submission and indifference. Even at her attempt to break him of his equally insurmountable trance by opening the heavens had failed, leaving him merely to neutralize her attack by letting the drops audible sizzle as they dropped heavily into his pelt. Evaporating into thin air as smoke rose off his nigrescent pelt.
[»]If snorting in contempt at his actions were allowed in this silent game, she would have surely let her façade fall and do so. Though it was not, or at least in her books either way. Instead she carried on her steady stare into space, terra-cotta optics only straying from nothingness a few times to scan the steed and his steady pace. Silence remained, and she allowed it to do so. Bothersome it had started to be, but now she wasn’t even paying attention to that. Alternatively she allowed her mind to wander into oblivion, letting instincts take over as five senses routinely took in the scene and relayed if any dangers had happened while she left this world. If he had nothing good to say or do, then why waste needed energy on making him do so? She would then only be labeled as weak, even though he hadn’t even got a glimpse of her true self yet.
[»]Nares automatically inhaled the much needed oxygen present in the air, smoke circling in her nasal passages before carbon pushed it away as Kavira exhaled. She wasn’t councious of this, though not many were unless they were sick. But it still happened all the same, and just as she was breathing she was also scanning her surroundings constantly. Spheres darting to and fro, gathering any information while acoustics did likewise as they shifted positions to accommodate the small almost unaudible noises that were always present. Such as the rain dropping heavily on her mahogany skin, then streaming down her underside before falling to earth. Such simple things, though that was the only things that were left to concentrate on. Rather she let all glimmer of emotion leave her bod, and let herself become deadened to this brute and world.
[»]The stag certainly wasn’t shaking things up, rather being favorably stubborn at the then innocent game she had started. Not that she wanted him to stop though, for now as she got use to this ignorance she had placed on him it almost felt relieving. No need to worry about her next step, for it would come in its own due time. That possibly being another hour or two of his everlasting revolutions around her physique. Aqua intermittently strengthened and weakened, though she was only doing this subconsciously. She put forth no effort into anything to please or displease this hellion, right now her only view of him was stubborn. Though in her eyes, this was not an undesirable trait. Rather the opposite, it made her give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he wasn’t all brawn and charm, and actually had a brain tucked beneath his charismatic skull. Perhaps.
[Yes, I quite like this too. But I'm afraid they're both too stubborn for their own good xD. Hope this post isn't too boring or repetitive, I'm quite mad at myself for nothing thinking up of anything better. It's a decent size, but the quality is 'eh' in my opinion. I hope I'll do better next time =/].
|
|
|
|
Post by taybay on May 20, 2009 19:13:54 GMT -5
Indeed, he was stubborn. He could find you immaculately beautiful 'pon the first meeting, but he could play games if you so decided to come forth and do so. He wasn't an imbecile, but he also wasn't out to prove anyone otherwise either. If they wished to doubt his intellect, they could do that. It would simply be them beneath his hooves as he pressed upon your jugular - that life-giving plasma staining his charcoal hooves and scouring the satin pipe of his esophagus.
But this game was becoming uninteresting - but his stubborn nature would not lax. He would continue to circle her diaphragm until his heart's content, and he would do it until he had to crawl his way in the well-engraved circle he had already carved around her. By now thirst had began to scratch at his throat, and the hunger gnawing at the insides of his stomach. Ravishing for a meal or something to quench the in depth need for liquid. He could probably stick his tongue out and catch the water that soaked the Earth at varied speeds and pulses - but that would most likely make him look like a moron.
I know you are so inclined to play a game with me. His constant rotating had stopped as he watched her fade into the nothingness of her cerebrum - and he would admit that he had ventured into his own mind a great deal in all those circles. I also know that neither you or I will lax. Smirk crossed that handsome facade which had sported non-other than a poker face this whole time that he had been in her presences. Which was nearing a whole lot of time, by the fall of the sun and the rise of the waxen moon. But, am I allowed the epitaph of my worthy opponent? He acknowledged that you were at somewhat equal proportions with him - someone should log this date and time. But this might also be a play upon words, who really knew with the King? Roses flickered, awaiting her response. But in the meantime, he would continue his endless circuiting.
Music: when you're gone - avril lavigne
Muse: pretty good
Notes: done
Words: 400
|
|
|
|
Post by Random on May 20, 2009 21:58:29 GMT -5
Her agent of chaos [/color] {K A V I R A}[/right]
[»]Round and round him went, indentations surely being wore down into the hardened soil. Even as the rain continued to relentlessly beat down, the drops still only sizzled upon contact at his ebonite skin. No doubt was cast into her mind he had used his own powers to accomplish this feat, and it might have even been an attempt to mock her. Nevertheless, she didn't really know why this thought was brought back into her skull, for this continuous cycle had been in place for some time now. Many a times did an intruding though pierce her brain, making her waver momentarily in her efforts to remain silent. For really what was more important, winning the game or refraining from dieing of boredom?
[»]Fortunately her decision needn't to be thought out all too much, as he finally broke down and decided to speak first. Cocky grin spread across her tainted velvets, though twin spires let themselves perk to accommodate his words from where they were now spewed. Which oddly enough was not in a constant motion dancing around her deserted carcass, rather to her welcome relief a stationary one. Another win, though this one was so shortly lived as he resumed torturous movements. Conflicting glimpses of emotions played out in the crimson vix's heart, ranging from disappointment at his giving up so easily to relief at him breaking first before she was tempted to do likewise.
[»]A laugh almost escaped her maw as his last words were finally recognized. So now he would ask for her name? After he had made her suffer through all the painful silence, so much as for the moon to now make its appearance through clouded skies. Even the heavens were now begging Kavira for mercy, not having any more liquid for it to spill. But she was ruthless, and even though it had seemingly no effect on the brute she kept it coming. She would keep it coming for years on end if that was what was needed to succeed in her goals. Stubborn was really an understatement.
[»]"Hm, now I am worthy?" she asked, lyrics spilled with ease and cold intent. It was no spiteful, nor sarcastic. No matter how much those two tried to fight off the cold err her speech always gave. Could this be a trademark of hers? No, her job entailed too much adaptability to accommodate a trademark. If need be her voice could convey emotion, and she frequently did. She just felt her natural emotions-or lack of-and presence would due just fine for this stag. "Well, I would like to ask the same of you," she spoke again, referring to him asking for her calling, or epitaph as he adorned it as. She silently relished the idea how he considered her a worthy opponent so early in the game, though she also knew to take any of his words with a grain of salt. And so she other then her previous verses she acted as if he had never uttered it, a minute task compared to the others that she must tend to. Kavira is a very busy girl.
|
|
|
|
Post by taybay on May 21, 2009 9:07:18 GMT -5
He watched that cocky grin spill over her features - relished on the velvet stage of her maw as the King knew she had won that game. But nobody said that game was over. His circuiting continued ruthlessly - aimlessly as the baron dropped silent. She wanted him to break so bad; but at the sound of his words she turned them around to ask them herself? A crafty bitch.
He watched her poker face be lifted slowly - she was acting as if this tango of elements and wills was won. Try again. If she relished in seeing him talk - then he would become silent. Why please the damned if her stubbornness lasted so long? mm? He nearly chuckled at his own thoughts and disregarded her words and actions altogether. You had a chance to become compliant and speak, but you had to ruin it.
Not so much flickering an aerial in her direction; the Knight proceeded to circle the female without a laxing pace. Now he circled at a trot - a mocking pace almost until he sprung into a deep canter and then back again. He would continue to have his movements etched and burned into her brain until her last waking moment if he so desired too; and she was only becoming a willing accomplice to his desired wishes.
But Art couldn't retreat into his own world like Kavira could - no; these were still his lands and he was going to keep alook out on the borders when he could. Nobody had come - and Sky and Retsuka better be in the damn place or he would surely slaughter their beautiful skins. He wasn't fucking around when it came down to where his alliances and members would be - you were where you were suppose to be, or you were punished.
Worthy? You might have been. But half the words the kings spews are lies. In all honesty, you were still the whore that you were born as. but I'm sure that you can see that considering you think you know everything. He almost allowed the poker face to fall as he contained a cackle of amusement. He could call her a whore, skank, bitch, or any other derogatory term - but she would merely laugh. She just seemed to like being circled and liked the unnerving silence that followed it. So as the Knight ignored any sewage that spilled from her mouth - he picked up a canter and began his circles once more.
Music: none
Muse: eh.
Notes: none.
Words: 443
|
|
|
|
Post by Random on May 22, 2009 22:05:02 GMT -5
Her agent of chaos [/color] {K A V I R A}[/right]
[»]Ha! He we was an amusing stag at least. Had he really expected her to spew her name so obediently, like she was already his little personal whore? Well she wasn't, and no matter how far she would take her facade she would never be his. She was always Kavira, belonging to herself and only herself. Even her parents hadn't the skill to reel her in from unavoidable madness. Yes, she could play her parts particularly well and easily give the illusion of subjection, but it was only an act. If a fleeting thought of abandoning her current focus of chaos, she would leave without a second thought. Maybe he would try to stop her, but really what could he do? Kill her? Well news flash, she wasn't about to go down without one hell of a fight. And she wasn't no naive filly, sickened by the sight of blood. Murder ran through her veins, and although she didn't practice it unless her job involved so, she wasn't afraid of a good battle. Though things rarely came to that, and she highly doubted this would go to that extent. It was just always nice to reflect on what one was capable of.
[»]The coal hued steed resumed circuits, and replying verses were still not spilled. Not that she particularly expected them, it just gave her a slight twinge of humor at how his internal dealings went. A glimpse into his cranium was quite an interesting experience, even if it was not in the literal sense. Nevertheless, with this routine beginning once again she was faced with even more boredom. Of course with a vix like Kavira, such a thing was hard to pinpoint an emotion to. Was she annoyed? Should she speak to him again, even if he had begun another game again? Of course it was only a cover up to his loss of the one that really mattered, but still...Really what was the point of feelings? Fling of tattered ropes warded off the pests that hovered 'round her flamelick'd physique, though this was the least of her worries.
[»]Scarlet pistons ached to be stretched, and so with the subtle plague of a smirk she walked forward. Timing her movement to avoid running into the circling stag she glided forward effortlessly past his deeply dug trench etched in the earth by routine of stilts. She didn't move far, just a few carefully placed paces away from his circuits. Twirling swiftly 'round she eagerly awaited his reaction at her actions, wondering how he would take such insubordination. She wouldn't really give a damn if he merely moved along with her and continued circling her as before, she just waned to spice things up a bit more. Maybe he would show a reaction, or maybe he would just be a bore and try to 'punish' her. That would surely be a wrong choice for this hellish loverboy, but some men just like to control. Though only time would tell what he respond with, and Kavira waited it out with silence by her side.
|
|
|
|
Post by taybay on May 22, 2009 22:27:24 GMT -5
So she could fight? Wonderful, well you want to know something? He could win, no, he will win. More than you can do, more than you would ever do. But no problem giving yourself a confidence boost, right doll? He almost allowed a small smirk to escape as he continued his trudging around her diaphragm with a lethargic pace.
She was boring him absolutely. All she was showing him was that she was an imbecile who liked to look into space for innumerable amounts of time. Nothing about her was flamboyant nor intoxicating; and the Knight allowed a yawn to richote within his throat as he continued his trekking. What she had decided to invoke was nothing he admired nor cared about; so she was wasting her time on something that truly didn't matter. What a pitiful equine, really.
Then she decided to come and be unique. for once, jesus. He could almost see the smug look she beheld as she seemed to be the reason of the eclipses and the way the earth rotated. The knight rolled his glasses and followed her; deciding to circle her diaphragm now as he extended his ivories to skim across her skin ever so tenderly. Like he was attempting to court her feelings to muster into his own. Then he withdrew, continuing to circle and pace into different gaits. deadpan expression over his facade.
[/color] [/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote] |
|
