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+--- Thread: Twisted Slough my life is a play, is a play (/showthread.php?tid=22997)
my life is a play, is a play - Witchbaby - August 29, 2017
tagged for ref
so fast it had happened and then she was gone, gone, and hadn't witchbaby sworn against that very thing? oh but, she hadn't meant to, she would never have (but how would @Kinkajuú know, an ugly little voice reminds her, you broke a promise and she doesn't owe you now baby).
the guilty-red starlet is used to being all alone but only by choice and the robbery of warmth at her side sits on her heavily. the flash of her grin is gone, pink eyes less bright - though who here would know the difference? she thinks of her dear brother forever doomed to chasing her restless heels (sorry, dear weetzie, but it was for her), thinks of kinkajuú and how soft and cracked she'd been already and how desperately witch had wanted to be the one to hold her together. oh, it doesn't do at all, and she knows enough to call a spade a spade here; witch would have never demanded reciprocity but it's all gone to hell.
and anyway where is she now? the hinterlands around her have turned as ugly as her heart, and though the coy has never been prone to fear she feels something cold and eerie in her now, tears prickling her pretty pink eyes. "oh, oh," she breathes anxiously, pressing her delicate shape against the smooth black bark of a willow. perhaps it is a good place to feel sorry for herself, but laying down to die just isn't in her character motivations, and so she nervously slinks forth, an odd spot of red in the darkness: head bowed in soft prayer that she might not be alone, just this once, just this once.
RE: my life is a play, is a play - Athanasius - September 01, 2017
Oh?
He echoed the girl's words with malicious amusement, intending for himself to be hidden somewhere out of her sight before speaking, then striding into view. A cliche, he supposed, that always worked in stories and tall tales, but when put in the context of real life, it always produced interesting results.
She was small and slight, curvaecously packed into one little hybrid package. It reminded him of a thin-furred, svelte boy that he had warded so long ago. Perhaps that was why he was drawn to her, wafting over to her like a thick fog. He smirked at her curled form, focused on her bright...pink? Her eyes were pink, but she was not pale white. She was just as russet as any other coyote or coywolf. He merely observed her then, waiting for her to speak or move and react to his presence.
RE: my life is a play, is a play - Witchbaby - September 01, 2017
and soon she is not alone, though as the male's form materializes, she feels it's a curled finger on a monkey's paw, unable to quite suppress the chill that runs through her lithe form barely-perceptibly. "oh," the girl repeats, a mimicry of his mimicry, gaze alert but - drawn in, as well, for the man matches his scenery so well and witchbaby is nothing if not a fan of aesthetic. in a different time she would lean in; now she is lonesome and thinking of her lost love.
the slight coy remains rooted, still half-curled around her tree, though her muscles tense in case flight is required. he does not seem a threat yet but there is something in the air that makes her guarded, thinking baby oh what have you gotten in to. "strange place t'find yourself," the girl says, concealing her anxiety at being maybe-lost in vague small talk - somehow she doesn't want to give him anything to grab on to - but shifts slightly forward, curiosity threatening to win out over good sense.
the slight coy remains rooted, still half-curled around her tree, though her muscles tense in case flight is required. he does not seem a threat yet but there is something in the air that makes her guarded, thinking baby oh what have you gotten in to. "strange place t'find yourself," the girl says, concealing her anxiety at being maybe-lost in vague small talk - somehow she doesn't want to give him anything to grab on to - but shifts slightly forward, curiosity threatening to win out over good sense.
RE: my life is a play, is a play - Athanasius - September 01, 2017
The fear in her eyes is delicious. He wishes he could feed off of simply that. But alas, he is not an emotional vampire. He does not feel hunger in the physical sense, where his body demands someone else's to feed him. Instead, he revels in the emotions she displays and tries to hide: the anxious shiver, the half-hearted echo, the shifting of her body away from him and then towards him with morbid interest. He smirks, then nods fluidly in agreement.
The same could be said for you, iubită.
RE: my life is a play, is a play - Witchbaby - September 01, 2017
he is making no aggressive moves and by degree she relaxes, her naturally reckless and inquisitive nature winning out. the word he calls her - iubită - rings strangely in her ears, a delicate sound. do monsters speak with such dulcet tones? not that she is naive enough to think appearance defines action totally, and yet - and yet she offers him a crooked grin and a short burst of laughter, pushed up through her throat in a rush. "maybe i was made here," the girl says conspiratorially, and though the cold hands of anxiety have not relinquished their grip on her heart, she's a star. "an' left all alone in th'dark an' damp, hmm?"
RE: my life is a play, is a play - Athanasius - September 05, 2017
She relaxes, and that is a clear sign for Athan to move forward. He does so slowly, as if with intention or a casual nature. But he does not yet know what he wants to drink from her or turn her into a thrall — he probes her out first, seeing how she reacts to him. He smirked at her wry remark, then turns his head away slightly before chuckling.
Perhaps you were made here for me, hm?He smiles at her, dazzling with a threatening undertone that only the extremely perceptive or extremely paranoid would detect.
RE: my life is a play, is a play - Witchbaby - September 06, 2017
at his words her pretty little face pulls, not a response to his undetected threat, but an involuntary reaction at his masculine attentions. "oh, no no," the witch-coy says with the unimpressed air of every put-upon lesbian, "y'see, i got a girl, so." and so - they aren't together now, that's true, but kinkajuú's still the one she's made for, not some strange-enchanting drow. maybe if he were a beautiful woman she'd be more easily swayed, but as it is the girl dances back out of reach, disappointment clear in her pink eyes - she thought he would play well, and yet, and yet, these brutish men make fools of her yet.
RE: my life is a play, is a play - Athanasius - September 10, 2017
Her grimace tells him before she even speaks. He laughs at her reaction and her misinterpretation of his intentions — a common mistake, he's noticed. Perhaps it is the way he approaches his targets. Or perhaps it was because sex and blood were so intrinsintly linked for him.
I commend you in your choice of lover, iubită — women are often much more enjoyable than men,He steps towards her, his gait blase as he speaks. His tone is humorous — one might also call it jolly, even as he slipped into another veiled threat.
But I was not referring to sex when I said you were here for me,
RE: my life is a play, is a play - Witchbaby - September 12, 2017
her pretty mouth twists into a slight frown, and: "agree with ya there," she says, but her confidence is crashing down around her. she is relieved to have been wrong but of course but that did leave the matter of what the menancing devil wants from her. he encroaches, she slips back, a dance of predator and prey but witchbaby doesn't know what he's implying. "am i gonna like whatcha did mean?" she asks, forcing a teasing tone in her last ditch attempt to gain back control of the situation - not that the starlet is above making a rather fast exit, she's not really looking to be chased through the doom an' gloom or meet her end before she meets her girl again, god forbid!
RE: my life is a play, is a play - Athanasius - September 23, 2017
screeches at college
He makes up his mind then. He wonders what it would be like to have her, even if she has a lover still wrapped firmly in her mind. Would she even bond to him? Did that magic work if someone's heart was set on someone else? Even if she doesn't bond with him here, she was to be a test for him. An experiment.
It depends,He says, sidling towards her casually before lashing out and clasping her scruff in his jaws firmly.
Don't move, iubită. It hurts me more than it hurts you,He moves his paws, resting one on her shoulders, then pushing down as he released his jaws. He presses her down firmly, a silent warning, before his fangs slice one vein open on his inner leg. He presses his forelimb to her mouth, uttering one commandment.
Drink,
RE: my life is a play, is a play - Witchbaby - September 24, 2017
this encounter's rapidly descending into dreamy horror and while witchbaby likes to play a witch she does not like the role the looming man is giving her. a yelp escapes her at his teeth in her scruff - she jerks but she is small and goes down easily, eyes screwed shut, expecting - something, but then instead of pain there is his leg against her mouth and the funny word drink and her eyes snap open with the smear of blood against her lips. "eugh," the scarlet girl groans, unable to escape the blood in her mouth, "gross." whatever weird kink he's indulging she's glad at least he has not cut her, yet, and she wriggles violently, attempting to break away so that she can disappear into the gloom of the woods.
RE: my life is a play, is a play - Athanasius - September 27, 2017
He presses the blood against her mouth. He expects to feel the rush that he did when he first bonded with his baietel; she rejects him. He was prepared to bite gently into her flesh to allow the exchange, but she did not submit. He snorts, drawing his limb away. He does not tend to it, too focused on making her food rather than a thrall.
Pity, iubită,He murmurs, presses his lips to her throat.
This would have been a lot less painful,He goes to sink his teeth into the flesh near her throat, not quite on her artery, but close enough to give him a knee-weakening spurt of blood.
RE: my life is a play, is a play - Witchbaby - September 30, 2017
wanna wrap in the next post or so? ty for the thread, i hope they meet again!<3
she barely registers his words as the last of her emotional hold breaks and terror floods her, a downward spiral met in the clasp of his teeth against her delicate cream throat. sharp ends tear tender flesh but this is
not where she takes her final bow,
in this timeline nor the next: heartbeat in her ear she flings herself from his grasp and hits the ground running, aware of nothing but her own pulse and the darkness around her as she flees.
RE: my life is a play, is a play - Athanasius - October 10, 2017
He drinks desperately. He doesn't expect her to stay for long and takes every second as his opportunity to indulge. His body goes weak with delight with every drop of her blood that lands in his mouth. She wrenches away, and Athan clamps down harder to hold her for just a moment longer. But she is gone from his grasp, leaving him alone in the clearing. He licks the ruby liquid from his mouth, tinging his saliva pink. His head bends down to clean the small wound on his leg. The high fizzles and he returns to his normal state, staring after her path for a moment before leaving.