Post by nyx on Feb 3, 2008 14:44:40 GMT -5
The zephyr was twisted and contorted among verticals, its distorted nature causing noise of the most perilous nature. Olfactory passages widened, senses alert as pathetic fallacy threatened to overcome the situation I found myself in… not that I minded the tumult of tempests dominating a given situation; indeed, I would relish precipitation in whatever strength it chose to throw at me. And the question was not if it would happen, but when.
Muscular fascinations contorted beneath my pelt, nape arching as optics scanned the skyline. Whether a glinting illusion of the curvature of my onyx optics or the rapture of lightning in the distance, the humidity suggested such a climax would come sooner rather than later. I was impatient for it, pausing briefly as tresses dared flick back across my pallid pelt. The penultimate scraps of snow threatened my vantage; they were chilling to address, and hid the ripe emerald stalks I thrived for.
Pushing onwards, pistons carried my hearse forth. Granites created unsteady crescents in the yielding surface, velveteen mug pushing gently against the icy substances. The chill sent a furore of contractions along my chine, husk readily adjusting to the paroxysm that ensued. My languid fleshy corpus rose against the architecture of my cavity, creating a tut barely audible. If anything, a fresh layer of dew should sour the last of the snow, its milky salivations moisturising the seasoned earth. When at last the frost covering had melted from the ore of my exhalation, fresh stems of grass entertained the soft matter of my mug, and enamels grazed against their skin. The sticky innards irritated my gums as I simply dined upon the stalks. The greenery bled for me, and who was I to refuse such an offering? A smirk cracked my visage, the temptation of my feast stirring me into such fervour that I could barely contain my excitement, nipping the buds for the nectar, letting slight grunts anoint my larynx as I tossed snowbells and other flora out of my path in order to get my vegetated fill. My nasal passages were drowning in the scent of the split foliage… until another scent tainted the permeable caverns.
Immediately, my crania was held at the zenith my nape could produce, axis swerving as I observed the land as indecent, interior heaving with breath. How foolish, how petty, how wicked of me… Divulging in such a licentious and lustful manner when all along there could be another in the barracks, just itching to break my selfish greed. And yet… no silhouette bore itself upon my reflecting iris, no shadow in the dark looming, and disappointment physically manifested itself in the deliberately heavy exhalation of carbon. Muscles relaxed as adrenaline drained itself of my limbs, appendages rubbing friction with the soil momentarily, though my interest in fulfilling my hunger had been lost… My thoughts were awash with the last time I had been captivated by such a satisfying victory, though the colour of the scene had at once not been that of stereotypical envy; that is to say, not the serene peridot of grasslands, but the metallic and rich flavour of warm blooded lust.
My last notable feast had been enough to curdle souls… yet the thought led me to salivate further, and I dare not entertain the thoughts that the devil’s advocate may presume. I had been, and never would be, a murderer… I was doing my work for good, making peace in a world of war. Whatever actions I had taken in the past that had infrequently brought my enamels to graze a portion of another of my race had been unfortunate, for sure, but necessary. They simply had not been nice characters. I let the unnerving smirk of one that has forgiven but never forgot grace my masquerade only a moment more, before crania shook and tresses sluiced my sightline admirably… and all at once my wit was lost in solitude.
Was I, a lethal coquette, to be left out here in this barren wasteland for much longer? Why, what kind of mischievous tricks could such an ess get up to when left to her own devices? The mere thought alone was enough to stretch the creases from my expression, my waxen carriage moving into even denser territory. Dolls like me aren’t left alone for long, I knew that much… and I was arrogant enough to know that whatever may be lurking nearby would not be able to contain their curiosity for much longer. How could such a dark maiden portray such light connotations… even now, I just seemed to ooze the little light that spread across the inhospitable surroundings. I was a prism to it, only my deep mocha optics piercing my illusion. I was the type that attracted souls, and devoured them…
And now? Yes, I suppose I was in such a weak disposition that I could admit to wanting a soul to share company with. It was so weary being on one’s own. I’d set the scene, but I wasn’t about to puppeteer any actions. I awaited their own strings to be pulled, and could only hope that any such gemote would be worthy of my attention. I was thirsty for sin; I always had been and always will be. I could only hope their soul was as strengthy as mine to buck against; I needed someone to tame me, but I wasn’t quite ready to submit. Bring me someone handsome I contemplated as a coy curve complimented my countenance, A handsome devil could do just the trick…
[WC: 925]
Muscular fascinations contorted beneath my pelt, nape arching as optics scanned the skyline. Whether a glinting illusion of the curvature of my onyx optics or the rapture of lightning in the distance, the humidity suggested such a climax would come sooner rather than later. I was impatient for it, pausing briefly as tresses dared flick back across my pallid pelt. The penultimate scraps of snow threatened my vantage; they were chilling to address, and hid the ripe emerald stalks I thrived for.
Pushing onwards, pistons carried my hearse forth. Granites created unsteady crescents in the yielding surface, velveteen mug pushing gently against the icy substances. The chill sent a furore of contractions along my chine, husk readily adjusting to the paroxysm that ensued. My languid fleshy corpus rose against the architecture of my cavity, creating a tut barely audible. If anything, a fresh layer of dew should sour the last of the snow, its milky salivations moisturising the seasoned earth. When at last the frost covering had melted from the ore of my exhalation, fresh stems of grass entertained the soft matter of my mug, and enamels grazed against their skin. The sticky innards irritated my gums as I simply dined upon the stalks. The greenery bled for me, and who was I to refuse such an offering? A smirk cracked my visage, the temptation of my feast stirring me into such fervour that I could barely contain my excitement, nipping the buds for the nectar, letting slight grunts anoint my larynx as I tossed snowbells and other flora out of my path in order to get my vegetated fill. My nasal passages were drowning in the scent of the split foliage… until another scent tainted the permeable caverns.
Immediately, my crania was held at the zenith my nape could produce, axis swerving as I observed the land as indecent, interior heaving with breath. How foolish, how petty, how wicked of me… Divulging in such a licentious and lustful manner when all along there could be another in the barracks, just itching to break my selfish greed. And yet… no silhouette bore itself upon my reflecting iris, no shadow in the dark looming, and disappointment physically manifested itself in the deliberately heavy exhalation of carbon. Muscles relaxed as adrenaline drained itself of my limbs, appendages rubbing friction with the soil momentarily, though my interest in fulfilling my hunger had been lost… My thoughts were awash with the last time I had been captivated by such a satisfying victory, though the colour of the scene had at once not been that of stereotypical envy; that is to say, not the serene peridot of grasslands, but the metallic and rich flavour of warm blooded lust.
My last notable feast had been enough to curdle souls… yet the thought led me to salivate further, and I dare not entertain the thoughts that the devil’s advocate may presume. I had been, and never would be, a murderer… I was doing my work for good, making peace in a world of war. Whatever actions I had taken in the past that had infrequently brought my enamels to graze a portion of another of my race had been unfortunate, for sure, but necessary. They simply had not been nice characters. I let the unnerving smirk of one that has forgiven but never forgot grace my masquerade only a moment more, before crania shook and tresses sluiced my sightline admirably… and all at once my wit was lost in solitude.
Was I, a lethal coquette, to be left out here in this barren wasteland for much longer? Why, what kind of mischievous tricks could such an ess get up to when left to her own devices? The mere thought alone was enough to stretch the creases from my expression, my waxen carriage moving into even denser territory. Dolls like me aren’t left alone for long, I knew that much… and I was arrogant enough to know that whatever may be lurking nearby would not be able to contain their curiosity for much longer. How could such a dark maiden portray such light connotations… even now, I just seemed to ooze the little light that spread across the inhospitable surroundings. I was a prism to it, only my deep mocha optics piercing my illusion. I was the type that attracted souls, and devoured them…
And now? Yes, I suppose I was in such a weak disposition that I could admit to wanting a soul to share company with. It was so weary being on one’s own. I’d set the scene, but I wasn’t about to puppeteer any actions. I awaited their own strings to be pulled, and could only hope that any such gemote would be worthy of my attention. I was thirsty for sin; I always had been and always will be. I could only hope their soul was as strengthy as mine to buck against; I needed someone to tame me, but I wasn’t quite ready to submit. Bring me someone handsome I contemplated as a coy curve complimented my countenance, A handsome devil could do just the trick…
[WC: 925]
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