@Mannoah backdated to shortly after her arrival
The limp was driving him mad.
He attempted to push through the pain that still stretched the muscles of his injured limb. It did little to settle the aggression that coursed through his body and had begun to sink into the twisting maze of his mind. Not even the tossing of the sea could curb that ferocity. Nevertheless, he had tried – tried and failed one too many times. The wraith could not stand to not be in control. Of all the things that had been stripped from him, his own wellbeing could not be one of them.
The swaying steps carried him back toward the cavern that was his den. He thought of Deirdre, and how much he wished that he could cross into the wood and wrap himself around her. Skellige was losing his patience, and he thought only to consummate their promised relationship. The King of Thorns and the Flower Queen; she was sure to produce beautiful children for him.
So instead, he had gotten drunk on plum whiskey, and he had sought to bury himself in the darkness of his den for the evening. The scent of the woman’s heat had wafted through the air and found its way into the breath that filled his nares. The whiskey was fueling his actions further than he would have wished it to, but the will of the great ones was to be fulfilled.
With a curling lip, the great titan sought to follow the alluring aroma that brought the promise of children to his lands.
The dark woman had taken easily to the demon's caves, careful not to seem too pleased with them when the demon was near. When he was away, however, she laid about them like some conquering queen. She'd helped herself to the nearest caches; the fish heads piled in the corner were evidence enough of that. Mannoah kept them to mask the scent of the demon, for it called to her like nothing ever had before. Though strong and foul, the smell did little to ease her aching - and when the demon returned to his haunt, the woman was waiting for him at the mouth of the den, bottom ensconced within the sandy entrance, but snipy muzzle and long, thin forepaws still poking out.
Eyes like the sun tracked his movements in a way that was almost lazy; but any fool would see the hungry and fearful sheen of them, and the demon was obviously no fool.
Mannoah watched him for a moment longer before retreating inward, tail swishing in silent invitation as she disappeared completely into the dark maw of the cave.
He did not care for the thoughts that ran rampant through the strange woman’s mind. For she was still very much a foreigner in the sands. It was evident by the way that she trekked across their stretch of beach… she did not belong there. That did not stop the hulking leviathan from keeping her locked away inside of his caves. He had shown her the boundaries of the pack and had issued a word of warning if she should attempt to escape the lands. It mattered very little to him that the great gods had no use for her there. He would find her worth.
The alluring gesture that offered him a chance to enter his own den had caused a strike of rage to erupt inside of his chest. The swarthy male lowered his skull and made a motion to close the distance between them, but felt the strain that crashed through the muscles of his injured leg. Skellige was immediately struck by aggravation at his own limitations. The wraith would curse it all if it meant that he could have his reign once more, with the body that he had been destined to use.
A low growl was emitted from his mouth and he staggered forward haphazardly. Sand was kicked up behind him, but the great sea wolf managed well enough to touch upon the mouth of his den. His head was swimming with the plum liquid that sloshed about in his gut. The mahogany of his gaze sought her once more.
She was not a creature accustomed to fearing. Hardship was all the woman knew, and she had never quailed from it before. Here she'd found herself in a land of plenty, playing den-warmer to a white-banded king. Her fortunes had turned around, and she counted herself lucky for it.
But she feared the king. The demon. In the den, she waited with harsh breaths dripping from her tongue, heart leaping as his shadow crossed the wall. His hulking figure was dark and ragged, only distinguishable from the shadow he cast by the burning red of his eyes.
"Diablo," the woman breathed, understanding, finally, that she did not dwell with a demon but with the devil himself. Fear coiled low in her belly, washing over her like cold water as she stared into his bloody eyes - and when she realized what she did, her gaze quickly lowered, and she murmured a desperate supplecation as she bowed down before him, prostrating to show her willingness to cooperate.
Her tail lashed as she inched toward him on her belly, fearful still but in desperate need. She was a thrall to him; he'd claimed her, and it was his power that compelled her forward. Her body was no longer hers to control.
Drunk and savage, he crept forward and followed the Jetsam into the depths of his home. The dank air inside was a welcome to him, and the saline winds that whistled through the caverns brought a strength to his spirit. The plum whiskey that flowed through his system was entrancing. He could almost feel the beauty of the gods as they ushered him forward.
In this state, the titan did not realize that the female he hungered after was indeed not Deirdre. In his mind's eye, he saw her frosty coat and instead of burning embers, her eyes radiated with the colors of the woods that she called home. The sway of her hips was enough to drive him mad. The way that the ocean breeze played with the fur along her neck and shoulders urged him to press onward – to sink himself deep within her. He knew that he needn't ask permission of the healer. She had promised herself to him and he would be pleased that she would bring him the children he hungered for. He was lost in the inhibitions; the burning in his gut had caused his breath to come in ragged huffs. This was what he needed to feel whole once again.
Diablo, she uttered in a voice that sounded like the sweet breath of the forest leaves. A smirk creased his features and he closed the distance that had been between them. The moniker had no meaning to him, but the devil did not need another to verify that he was the embodiment of sin.
With a ragged gesture, he moved to wrap his limbs around her frame. His yellowed fangs were bared and aimed for the nape of the woman. The scent of her seemed to wrap around him and lure him onward. Still, the titan's breath smelled of sweet and aged plums.
The Diablo's presence billowed out and wrapped around her before he ever moved toward her. Mannoah's heart pounded inside her chest like a bird trying to escape, but the dark woman had no such desires. Though this was the manner of beast that Hind had warned her against, the darkness had reached too deep in the shewolf's heart. Daystar eyes reached up once again to take in the Black Flag, the bloody gemstones and pale, silver bones that ornamented his dark pelt.
The savage pleasure that crept across his maw was duly noted, and Mannoah found her own features echoing the expression as he overtook her at last. His massive frame was draped over hers before she had time to arrange herself for him, and she struggled to carry his impressive weight while her body still quivered with excitement and fear. In the end, her forelimbs were not up to the task, and she crumpled even as his jaws snapped shut over the skin of her neck. powerful hind legs strained to hold them both, but Mannoah did her best to push back against him.
"Please, now, I beg you - "
Quite whimpers fell from the woman's lips, but none of them were to be understood by the devil. Neither spoke the langauge of the other, but there did not need to be words between them for him to understand.
The woman did not need to beg him. His intentions were awfully clear.
In a swift motion, the brute moved to take her. Almost as soon as he had done so, the fire in his gut overwhelmed him and he behaved in a savage and vicious manner. There was no gentle stroke of his breath against her nape, but a ragged and heavy grunt. There was no real compassion in his action, but more so because he did not know the meaning of love – at least not for this woman. Still, the warmth of her was something that he desired. The massive shadow of a man did not even note when her forelimbs cracked beneath his pressure. Skellige moved to finish his job and nothing more.
The fire of the devil had sparked within his gaze and he was fueled by it. Kiln to the fire that roared within him and longed to be doused by the wicked waves of the sea that he loved. Though his actions were misguided and lacking in any sense, they were still being followed through by the great spirits of the depths and the will of the black rock was his own. So he plunged himself into the shallows and before long… his body had been washed away.
Slumping against her frame with jagged breathing and a rapidly pounding heart, the vile brute issued a guttural growl. The act had been completed and there would be no reversing what was to fall on their lands.
Though she'd hungered, it'd been only for the barest edge of what he'd given her. Long after the act was finished, Mannoah laid shivering on the floor of the cave. She had thought herself dark, but she was no match for the devil - and now she was cold, uncertain, and afraid. Would his seed take root? Would they be as dark as him? What would he do with her, now?
His actions had been so sudden, so violent. Mannoah wondered if he'd even meant to breed her, or if his lust had simply overtaken him as it had overtaken her.
Part of the shewolf wanted simply to run away. When she tried, her body seemed to fight against her, rooting her to the same place where she'd lain underneath him.
She would not be moving anytime soon - not if she was allowed to choose.
Still filled with the swirling emotions that had been provided by the plum whiskey, the devil heaved with ragged breaths and issued a grunt.
The world would not be prepared for the youth that would fill their ranks – the children of a Cairn and a woman who's name he had not even bothered to take from her. Still, his mind ran with thoughts of Deirdre and Mannoah was not a creature that he even found himself compelled to lust after. The burning of his gut had driven him forward and had taken what had been destined of him. Though he would find it difficult to explain to others, the leviathan had no plans of sharing his motives with the Jetsam. The need had been filled and when his drunken state had worn off, he would realize the mistake that he had made.