Lion Head Mesa I'm sorry that I'm misbehaving; I'm your little scarlet, starlet
Akashingo
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@Seth

To a beautiful show, where the sun met the earth.

So, she climbed through secluded pathways, following not scent, but the marks of perfectly spaced claw indentations that she'd burned into memory. Like following the devil, she climbed his way with unyielding step and in the shadow of the risen red-sand. She took her sweet, sweet time, and the higher she climbed, the more she couldn't get his teeth being knocked out of his mouth off of her mind.

She couldn't wait to ring his ears out. She couldn't wait to feel the skin of her fingers along his back and lean over the edge while his body flailed on its way down the fall. In graceful steps, she cleared over jumps and climbs that demanded footwork, going onto the next levels and the ones after those. She couldn't wait! She couldn't wait. You know what she couldn't wait for? She couldn't wait to take his ear and dangle it around just because she wanted to! She couldn't wait to get in his big, stupid face and bite it! She couldn't wait to smash his big, handsome face with her back legs to crawl with the roaches! How DARE he send her out to a death pit with no warning! Oh, oh, oh, she was going to show him. Show him LOTS of new things that he'd not yet stuffed his nose into! Bubbling, bubbling, BUBBLING! Stupid Seth. Stupid Seth!

The sun burned the top of her head as she emerged from the back of the Hinode and met the peak of it. There she saw the blazes of the sun casting down as it set, and felt how the surface of the stone and sand cooled below her feet. The towering shadow of god tried to overrule her frame as he overlooked the mesa, and she crept out of it with a low head and a swishing, swishing, swishing tail. Her stare was hard, and her smile harder. Her tone firmer. "Seth." She cooed it out nice and pretty, but she sure wasn't thinking pretty, and it dripped out immediately.

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A turn, a look. A brush of blush desert sky across a raven’s silver eyes.

“Say it,” it is a command that comes softly, but a command nonetheless.

She meant to conceal from him but she should have known, and she should have remembered the terms of an agreement sealed in blood. She is not alive and unhappy with him, she’s alive and stuck with it.
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Quickly, she was at his side, rubbing against his flank, and even quicker she was at his chest. Her head leaned firmly into his neck; her cheek nuzzled into his tar pelt. She curled her tail neatly around the side of her paws while nestling into a sit, and in quick succession, her big doey eyes batted. At first, a whisper, "I come to you?" With an itch in her ear, she soothed it by scratching her ear softly, swiftly against his throat. "I go out," she continued, murmuring to him all too delicately. pulling her maw down. "You command me away." Big, big, bigger her eyes and she tapped her tail on the ground as they stand inches from the edge, her even closer. "I listen." Yes! She'd listened! With a seal on her neck, she'd done so. "I leave for you." The more she spoke, the quicker her sentences released. Her paws shuffled, her shoulders adjusted in a wiggle as she leaned up to him farther to tightly touch her head to his muzzle. "To strange place. I trust." She's used to going strange places! That's okay, yes? So, she let her head be still as if it communicated it in itself was no problem.

"And you," she didn't stop, "send me," she continued, taking split second pauses in a dainty, lovestruck voice. "To DEATH PIT with STRANGERS, AND NO WARNING!" Seth didn't know? She didn't care! She didn't care what Seth did and didn't know, he could kiss his sorry ass bye-bye once she decided to round her fist out and chuck him off 3000 feet! She whined! Her bottom lip scrunched up to her top and her nose fell into a wrinkle, and oh, was he seeing a pissy squint in her eyes. He spoke NOW!

What did he think? He thought, she thought, that it was cute and funny? He thought that he could mosey her on off to WEIRDOS that wouldn't talk to her and hid around like moles trying not to peek out from their burrows? Where Lake leisurely tossed around their ladies six feet into the dirt? SHE WAS A LADY! This wasn't Khaba's fault to her. No! SETH'S FAULT!
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She flutters against him, his lips find the scabbed-over bite on the back of her neck.

“Is it fairness you seek, Raven?” He asks quietly. The safety of her gilded cage? Or the freedom to leave it?

“Then you shall have it. I shall give it to you.” It would have already been her’s, if it was what she truly desired.

He’d once presented her with a choice. It had always been her decision. And it would be, now.
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Faith.

Equality.

Candor.

Her skin crawled as his lips traced over the very sore he caused. The sore he deepened. The sore that he left, and the sore he promised to leave memory of. The sore he gave attention to. The sore he gave affection to. The sore he caressed now with his mouth. His tongue. His tongue he speaks with, reminds her of, and she thought of nothing but the sick thought of him using it; at that, a pathetic whine.

He was offering to take that from her.

She loved even more when her wings beat against the bars of the cage and they gave out. She loved the suffocating safety of entrapment. She did not want to leave. She did not want choice. That was faith; when she stayed limp in mind. She loved even more when he guided her clipped feathers into flight. That was equality; when she was hanging from his fingers and teeth. When the embers in his chest allowed her to touch him in worship. "No." Bliss was here. That was candor; when he covered her ears and licked up her neck his voice of direction. She knew no other way. She did not want to know another way. His shelter proved itself time and time again.

He wanted to change that?

"I don't like this side of you right now. It's repulsive." She wished to whine to him. She wished to draw blood from his veins. She wished to pull at his limbs. Never. Never. Never did she want to experience change.

How dare he.
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She’d known she hadn’t wanted it. And so did he. That was what was left after two years of partnership, when frivolous surface antics like games and war and politics are shelled what remains is only the mirror, and the mirror reflects a flawless copy of yourself.

He hears her, won't acknowledge the words. They are the offshooting embers of a larger fire, the thing she truly wants to say but will not. She doesn’t need to- he already knows.

“I have an assignment from the Queen. I will leave this place.” A lingering kiss there, then a raise of muzzle, turning to take the red horizon.

“And you will not follow.”
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She did not understand.

She did not comprehend how, or why he was leaving. Why he would do so abruptly. She had many times. Many times she had vanished in the day, dawn, dusk and night, yet never had he done so. Could he? Why would he? Should he? Why could he? Her head quirked more, her ears gently touching towards his chin and cheeks as a large inhale went up her nose. Her gaze was ahead, but her mind anywhere but so.

In a silent grumble, the back of her head and figure quickly, firmly pressed back to his body. Her head rubbed up, down, to search for a sense of relief that came with his familiarity. Familiarity that told her he would leave. Up, down, stroking her on face in a pet that had been previously stamped by a kiss on her head. Inhale, huff, and her ear flickered against his neck while her brows furrowed and pouted in drowning confusion at the setting sun.

"Why?"

Why.

She did not understand.

She did not like this feeling.

Why did she no longer understand?

Why couldn't she understand?

She did not understand.
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Dearest creature in creation, how those colorless eyes searched for answers she knew. It was why she was ready to be the master of her own hutch. 

“You do not need me. I would impede you here. You would impede my work abroad.” His manner is detached; informational. On the horizon is the chaos and he’d known the safety of peaceful kingdom walls far too long.

He turns for her, "You did not expect it would always be this way. You know what I desire. It is why I must now go."
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He was hurting her. This was HURTING her. Why did he hurt her? Why was he hurting her? For him, she left. In his steps, she followed him forward through passing suns and cold moons. For every ten breaths taken, they breathed life back into the other's lungs. Never together, never apart. Even in work, they were never separated. She was never alone. Why was he leaving her alone? He was leaving her alone. He was leaving her?

Alone.

She felt heavy. He felt heavy.

At his face, and his eyes set away from her, she looked to him with a wrinkled maw and piercing eyes. He was distant. Maybe if she did this, he would turn to her. Maybe if she disgraced him, he would look at her. Maybe if she demanded so, he would stay with her longer, even if to only tell her that he wouldn't. She felt it slip away. She felt it fail. She tried again, teeth bare and lips so close to his throat. Should she have wanted to, she could have endlessly torn flesh from his skin. Could have mauled his body in return for hers, because then he was not leaving.

She did nothing.

It had been his eyes to stop the display. Because somewhere in the deep truths of reality, where her mind would not touch and she was far from accepting, she would not hurt him.

Even if she wanted to, so that he would not leave her.

This was not familiar.

Her gums immediately fell loose. As if she had forgotten those eyes, she stared at them dead beforehand. Cold, unnoticing, refusing to acknowledge them with the might she placed within them. But then, it was as if she saw them. Saw him. Saw life. And before him, she melted away and sifted between his fingers. As if she never had spoken word of defiance. Her nose twitched, and her head plopped over. She sat perfect. The calm was sickly.

"When will you come back?"
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Her face, rigid and fierce with renunciation. Showing teeth.

Bite.


A silent order, to be brought back to that place in which only the rough graze of mouth to flesh could bring. To carry her into him, a disciple of some long-buried trickster god.

Her eyes show the world. She experiences it all, this spectrum of humanity. He too had that once, long, long ago.

“A month. A year. Never.”

Her faces are stretched and pulled. She closes herself over. She dissolves into pure light. Her red turns uncolored. Mute. She is trapped behind, she wanted him to see her there, to say the word that might release her. Instead, she stands there.

His lips curl.

“Look at me and see your reflection.”

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A month. A year.

Never.

She felt her heart sink. She didn't know why. She couldn't understand. How could she? She felt her mind pool and her eyes soften, her shell empty itself out and her soul ache. This ache hurt. It was not the good ache that she found herself considering him and coming back to time and time again. He did not need to command her. He did, but she was long looking at her own picture within his eyes, her spirit crushing itself as her throat grinded to dust, only to loosen to feel nothing. She felt nothing. Large, round eyes spoke to him in a million ways, asked in hundreds of letters; why? What for? Never? What was this again? Why did he do this?
Why didn't she like it?

She was supposed to like it.

It was her and him, and him and her. Just the two of them. In the pits of his eyes, like molten gold and screaming sands, she saw herself. She saw something. Her own pelt, her own gaze. She saw a thing, but most importantly to her, she saw him. She saw his mind; it was locked and guarded, but she knew it to be true. She knew it as gospel. She saw it now, and his vision. With a quirked head soon tilted upright, it filled itself with wonders. "I see.These were not holes he put in her chest, no. These were bites, and he smothered her in those, and she knew they were praise. He praised her.

He loved her.


"Does he enjoy this better?" With her mouth, it is soon on his skin, with her jaws slowly, slowly clenching along his throat, inch by inch until she worked down to slick centimeters.
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Atop the temple for the Gods, she opens herself over decay and he feels it, her breaths steaming in the humid sunlight. She is driven back with the force of his shoulders but caught to him with one long arm which fits her into his suspension. It is not his teeth but his lips that find her chest. Her temptations, like a last brittle scream for him.

“Not enough to stay.” A murmur.

Cruel. In many ways he had been that, though never once had he stopped her, and she’d always found her way back to him on one tradewind or another.

But she exists in this world with the living. With carnal, fanciful wants. Things he no longer sought for feeling in alone.

Into her eyes he looks, no upset, no pleasure to disturb the surface. He releases her to rise, feet finding the edge of the mesa.

“In another life, Legend.” A raven no more.
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The world was on fire.

She liked the attention. She liked the ceremony each day of reciting her worth and focus. It was rewarding when she appeased him, and the subtle looks he'd hand her, the shifting in his voice. When the rush of not knowing where his eyes would look that day came, be it beyond the distance with his gaze of Ra, or directly at her. Even the passing glances, soft or few, told her how much he thought of her. It rose the warmth in her chest and the heat in her breath.

He didn't mean it. He may have meant it now to an empty degree, but he wouldn't in an hour. He wouldn't in a day. If not then, he would not in the next week, the next month. However long it took, she believed and committed to the sound of air coming out of his mouth; a hush from his lips, but a cry in her ears. She felt the shake of it, the tremble of her own ears as it came through them. It was the fact that no matter the feeling he gave to her now, even if she felt so out of place that her stomach physically wanted to twist, he was giving her a feeling. It was better than no feeling, and this feeling was wonderful. Her lips were in a part as he spoke, her neck extended and her head moved for his own as he offered play with her life. In fluttering eyelids, she felt her mind fall under a haze where she could not touch the ground with reality. Life went away, and so did she. A place of derealization where the world moved, and there was she, a ghost within it, watching it and unable to come back within her own terms.
Even bliss did not exist.

And then as his mouth departed, it did. Her toes pressed deep into the mud of real, and she returned.

A laugh trickled from her lips until she was leaned over on her front paws. Dipping her head, her eyes squinted to a shut and her mouth held open as it poured directly from the base of her chest. Shaking her snout, her neck straightened as soft, fiery jester eyes landed on him. She came back up to a better sit, her head lopsided as she stared at him from her peripherals, no short of lovesick. "Yeah? You'll cross. You'll be back? Then what? Branch to Shuyet?" Forbidden, she spoke it. React.
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Feelings could not stoke a fire. They smothered it.

There were glimpses of the mirror, but it would never show like glass so long as she gave them. She could not reflect. He would not turn.

Shuyet. Long since spoken. The birth of what they are now began in those fetid lands. She had been young, but even then he had recognized the hunger in her eyes for something other.

Of Shuyet; perhaps. There was a newly raised Pharaoh there to visit: “If I return to Shuyet, you will not hear of it. This is your kingdom now. Take it. Prove to me you can.
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"Okay." Laughter. She bent her head down, laughing to his words and sprawling her front legs out. Her chest rose and fell with giggles, her mouth open and teeth bouncing with her jaw. Then, it lifted to lazily look towards him, her mouth knocking into his muzzle.

"You going to bite me, Seth?" A taunt, as her neck flaunts to his mouth, a smile etched in stone on her maw with dainty, half-shut eyes.

"I want you to," She told him, diving her muzzle low and staring deep into his hues of gold, holding a craving, messy giggle.

Bite me. Bite me. Bite me!
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She reclines though it’s hardly languorous. With madness she puts her defiant body on offer. There is her giddiness, ribs pulsing and sly eyes full of desperation to steal something like another chance, or a life that is with his. She wants hunger to corrupt and he catches her jaw in his, pulling them both down into the earth.

“Is it? Shall I free your hide and wear you over my shoulder?” She smiles and he wrinkles in it, like fat on steamed blood. He imagines his teeth marks on her skin, the scars and his chance to touch them, a mournful romanticism.

She feels emptiness because she feels. Seth only had the vague appearance of these tangible things, a rough imitation. But he always had the mirror, something of his own he carried within him that legend wasn’t ready to become, but he maintained the faith that she one day would. They would meet in that place of reflection, she having arrived late, but coming alone.

His teeth pursue the inside of her wrist.

I will love you better in death.
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sips tea
She was in the wild madness with laughter and freedom when her back hit the ground. There were teeth to her wrist and a voice so serious and so strong. When her smile dropped, her eyes were delicate petals and her lip a dying stem. It lasted a second before it cracked back into place.

Restraint, restraint- He was so fun! Putting the tip of her tongue between her teeth to bite down on it, her neck stayed firmly away from him, yet so close to the edge. Her tongue pulled back in to speak. "Yeah?" Her mind levitated. She saw then- stars in his eyes spiraling in his firm silhouette, and they're all she could think of.


This was a game! This was what she'd been needing! This wasn't boring! Now, this was what she was talking about!
"You want to? I got free skin. Wanna strip if off my flesh? Make me a walking meat corpse?" This was funny. So, she'd be funny back.


Because it was a joke when he told her that he was leaving.
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he’s seconds away from the boot so this a quick one lol! gonna push to a close if that’s ok c:

Under her skin’s fixed smile is a face destroyed in pain, caving in on itself. He witnesses beauty. He will not walk her back to that place of mutilation, there’s another way to take his possession and he does so, pulling her beneath him. Legend, and not the raven. Here she is cared for and not a casualty of a battle that has not yet taken place.

It is not a true feeding. For either of them.

Still their bodies in twist replay a timeline of tricks and war, long journeys through desert, woods, the smell of blood and rot, the acidity of poison, the sharpness of stone and teeth, building higher through a rhythm of their lethal histories and pressing down over Legend in her frame of bone and flesh-

and the wars yet to come, when they will align, discarding molten hide to rise up into true living-

this is a promise for when he returns-

and she will be glass.