``ragged and worn || joining

[Miyu]

must be the sign on my head

She walks, tail swaying, head high, pride radiating from every point in her body. Perfectly aware that she's invading a territory, perfectly aware she could die, and yet she could care less. She murdered her father, was abandoned by her mother, and hears her brother's voice in her head; death would be welcome if she could lose the daily madness she strives to fight off.
Like a poison it invades her mind, much like the way she was invading the wolf territory. Canitao, it was called, she had heard from a passing stranger.

that says oh!

It strides in on her mind, not bothering to knock, just dropping into the swirls of her mind that were Wonderland.
You're intruding, it sings, not caring it irritates her. You're intruding and you're going to die, you are, the state that you're in, you're going to die, you're going to die, you're going to die....
It repeats this, cheerily, apparently not aware that she wouldn't care as long as the voice was gone.
But I won't be gone, it says, dropping the sing-song tone. I won't be gone, not now, not ever, not when you die. I'm a part of you, Arethia, and I can never leave...

love me dead, love me dead

She approached the seemingly treacherous mass of ice, she stared at it, considered it, challenged it, and it conceded defeat, she crossed it with ease.
She was in their lands now, let their warriors come if they wish. She did not care if she lived or died, and would take her last breath sucking the blood of her enemies and laughing at the world.

•arethia
•295
•lyrics © love me dead by ludo
•ooc; That... was... bad. T-T

[' ' K.O.T.O.R.I.]

He knew it, knew it with a burning passion, a burning knowledge, a burning birthright that the way the world was panning out before him was right, just perfectly right. It was a calming knowledge, a self-satisfactory knowledge, a thing which put him at ease yet thrilled him to the bone. He knew, he knew it. A grin, a gaping smile cracked out from between black lips; swirls of blue lace through the fur and the black-and-blue was in motion, was ignited by the desire to run, to fly, to keep running until the steam settled in his stomach, made of him a creature of legend.

Not much longer, he thinks, he knows and can't help but grin even as the biting cold gets underneath the fur, makes him wait, makes his pause for the briefest moment. Hah, hah. The king and queen are dead! He is alive, he is in charge and he loves it, feels it licking along the lines of his legs. Everyone knows him, everyone knows, and in that knowledge, in that simple knowing there is power, and the power is there in his eyes, in the burning glacial blue of his eyes. Oh yes, like the cold, like the very ice on which he stepped. No problems here, no problems at all, and he grinned and grinned, cracking his lips like the ice that cracked when spring came.

A dangerous place, a perfect place and he ran, and ran, his tail streaming behind him, blurring through with the ideologies of the tyrannical mind which urged him on, whispered in his sleep and drove him just a touch insane. The God he worshiped was a real thing, an ancient thing and it was alive and breeding. In all sins it would come to him, would only vouch for the safety of those who served him well, and how well Armageddon was serving him! Oh yes, yes he was! He drove the King and the Queen away, his wings and his power too great for their puny little minds to even comprehend, let alone fight against and he was rich on his own power, drunk on the intoxicating realities which blurred before him. Hah, hah. The bitch was gone, the bitch was finally gone and guess who was on top? Oh yeah, you saw it, he named himself the throne sitter, the Black-And-Blue and he wasn't going anywhere. Not until his army of darkness was set up, not until their desires were so close to his own, they were nothing but an extension.

Such a simple creature really, but with madness often comes just a touch of cleverness and he used that little bit of cleverness well, indeed he did. Indeed he did. Lips moved, tongue rolled and he yawned, gaping dangerous mouth to reveal think incisors, rough tongue. He rolled the victory around in his mouth, in his mind, in his heart and knew himself better than those around, better than anything else he could claim. Oh yes, oh yes, he smiled because he could and there was no one to stop him.

The wind's changed and the beautiful arch of his wings moved subconsciously, instinctively with it, raising up, up, up as if against the touch of a lover's caress. So interesting this mingling touch of perfection, of outward existence rubbing against the fleshy mortality of his wings, of the nerve endings there as delicate as a other, more private places. He shivered, a tingling desire beginning to burn in his flesh, in his loins but he knew himself in the midst of no where, in the midst of the glory of this realm, this place he had claimed. Who would think to look for the devil in the coldest regions of this flat-planed terrain? The cats took the mountain and as long as the mangy creatures stay over the border, Armageddon was of the welcoming mood. New souls to plunder, new things to deform, to corrupt. How perfectly brutal ... how perfectly -------- female.

Wings raised, ears flicked up, glacial blue eyes shifted over, staring, staring, searching with the determination of one who desires to enthrall, to lure in those who seek asylum in his territory. Only wolves, only wolves and he flies without flying, his paws hitting ground, hitting hard, pumping the adrenaline, a staccato to his heartbeat, to the utter delight that had transformed his features. A female, female, woman he thinks and his desires are raging, turning, becoming oblique and disastrous. Flirtatious tilt of his tail and he decides to sit, to wait for her, wings spanning outward behind him, a flag to his glory, a distraction to the filth in his mind. So different the black and blue must seem, so akin to the terrain that surrounds him: cold, calculating, waiting, a snake in wolf's flesh but he is none of these things: he is whimsical, lustful, violent. He wants the things that intrigue him and unfortunately the wolf coming closer and closer intrigues him by matter of her sex, and that alone. Born female, it is the only thing which saves her from the other side, the warrior. So he cracks another smile though it looks all wrong in his face, not at all welcoming or sweet and calls out with a lilting, sing-song voice, obviously affectation. "And who, my dear, are you? Come to keep me warm, have you? Hah, hah. I need one of you around. The only ones here are either male or old. Too old for my tastes." Poor Kinx, poor Kinx. "Though she's delightfully deformed. What have you that is so intriguing, hm, hm?" Warmth thaws out the ice of his eyes, turning coldness to a sloshing color of water. But still something off, something completely wrong.

[/color]

word count;; 965
tags;; Arethia
OOC;; I'm sorry! I didn't see it! </3
But I posted ^__^ yay!

[Miyu]

where have all the good men gone and

She stood, she waited.
He wants you, it sang, he wants you, but he can't have you, oh no, he can't have you.
Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of the wings, of the blue, but quickly she composed herself, making her face immobile as stone, as
seemingly
immobile as the glacier she had past.
"Keep you warm?" she asked, the faintest of smiles twitching her lips as she waved her tail condescendingly. "Now why would I want to do that?"
That's right, condescending, not like he'll kill you, not like you'll die, die, die, it sang in it's oh-so beautifully treacherous voice.

where are all the gods? where's the street-wise hercules

She was standing, with only this strange wolf between her and forgetting, this strange wolf preventing her from leaving the voice behind.
Won't leave me behind, it said, not singing for once. You can't, you won't, you shan't.
She could tell he knew she was odd, she was off, something about her just wasn't right. But she wasn't right, and he wasn't wrong, and she needed to get into the lands, needed to escape, needed to plan, to feed, to forget.
She looked at him, her smile still twitching, still odd, and with her inner instinct, or maybe it was the voice
The voice? The voice is all you call me, my name is you, you are my name
Telling her to bend her head, and so she did, with an extravagant twist of her left paw.

to fight the rising odds?

"Arethia, my leige," she said, her tone coated with mock admiration, her tail still waving about condescendingly. "My name is Arethia, and I come only to serve."

•arethia
•306
•lyrics © i need a hero sung by jennifer saunders
•ooc; 'tis alright, I actually forgot about the thread too. XD

[' ' K.O.T.O.R.I.]

Beautiful creature, terrible creature, and Armageddon instantly liked her, loathed her, wanted her for his own; but that was neither here nor there, as his maniacal need to possess the female flesh was something that defined him in his own crazy way. Yes, it was fine, yes it was alright, but he was winning, and he would remain the victor no matter how many clever words she spat in his direction, no matter how many times she flipped her tail and made him dance to her tune. She did it because she knew she had to and that, yes, darling, that was all that mattered.

Mocking or not, in jest or not, it was done, and it was done well, though perhaps he would have preferred to see more tail, more ass, a little more flirtatious tilt to her hips. Wasn't he good enough? He was always good enough. There was no one around that could possess the strength needed to rule, to run, to fly with the pack, to bring it back to it's former glory. Oh yes, he knew, and he knew she knew, that this game they played, this little tit or tat would end one way and one way only, and perhaps in the deceitful coils of his mind, Armageddon knew this, and as an extension, the devil himself, but Armageddon, as it were, was not really a man, a wolf, a brute of the mind. He was given little insights, given little plans through his dreams, regardless of whether or not it was delusion or not, but cleverness? Pft. He only perceived wit through the sharp words of others, and his own, his poor, demented mind, could barely comprehend some of the scathing remarks that come so easily to others.

It was not his strength and surprisingly, Armageddon was more than pleased with himself, knowing that despite it all, he was better than she was, that he was the all-spark, the all-god, and she nothing but a groveling worm bending paw, bending tail, and ear and voicing the thing to pacify him, to indulge his childish desire for power. Was he weak? Not in the way you're thinking, but he is flawed, seriously flawed and in that transparency there is a strength, and he smiled at her, cracked a grin so wide it flashed fang and tongue alike, black gums seeming to drip like oil over the curves of sharp ivory, of tooth enamel and vicious desire. Fur raised, the blue whorls that marked his flesh seeming to turn a vibrant color of moonlight as it was touched, as it was caressed -- and so in, a way, it was, and the Black-And-Blue chuckled, his eyes burning blue, burning frost though there was nothing in him of true coldness. "But it's so cold here. You're going to have to warm someone's flesh, and it might as well be mine." He chuckled then, cocking his head as an endearing thought entered his mind, rolled around there as if in a game of tag and settled. With a pleased sort of snort, he eased forward despite her brave words, her false praise. "I like you well enough, but you know, Arethia, your words cut me to the quick, and I can't say I can have that going around. I know someone much, much, better, that you'd be just tickled by."

Has the audience guessed his plan? His desire, suddenly altering. He owned her, for now, knowing that despite her words, despite the audacity in her stance, and the utter fearlessness in her look, that she needed something, something bad. And that bad thing? Well, only he could give it. Even if she didn't know it yet. Hah, hah, oh yes, this power was a glorious thing, the Arch-Angel has it in the palm of his paws, held there by the sheer will of his Alpha-hood and there was no one who has contested him.

Well, aside from the Striped Splatter, but then, that wolf, last he saw, had flown toward the traitors. Hah, hah -- hopefully he'll be turned into cat feces -- it's what he'd deserved, the bastard. Little worm trying to get too much in his hand, what did he expect but to be slapped down like a puppy? Hmmph, idiot. Mongrel. Traitor, and the thought itself was lethal, the first serious burst of disgust and commingled anger at the fact that the pride-less idiot did go to the traitors, would think to threaten the King of Kings, the Omnipotent One, and then prance off to associate with Cats?! Ugh, the idiocy.

"I have a friend, you see." he murmurs, he nearly purrs roughly with delight, a spark lighting the glacial blue of his eyes, his iris, his pupils to widen, to grow, and grown and grow into maniacal plates of darkness. "A friend you might like, hah, hah, as it were. You'd get along well with your wit and your tit." he laughed, "Get it? Wit? Tit?" so lame, but just a little bit crazy. Yet it was alright, it was definitely alright. "Would you be interested, hmm, in joining the ranks of the fallen? Of the Devil's Doorsteps? We're wolves and I'll be damned if anyone doesn't act like one. You've got the pride, and the wit -- all that's lacking in you, in the weight, but I see the threat in your eyes. Oh yes, hm, hm." his tail swished, wings tightening against the line of his back. "You interested, are you? Come on, please, pretty please with a little bit of cat blood on top?" His eyes shone with the passion of the clinically insane, but it was alright, because let's face it, his dream is a perfect one for wolves who wish to be nothing but wolves. Fuck when you want, eat when you want and protect what's yours. Oh yes, yes, indeed. He adored the fucking part.

And the killing part.

Which would it be now, hah, hah?

"What do you say?"

[/color]

word count;; 1003
tags;; Arethia
OOC;;BAHAHAHA
Army as match-maker is pretty
pathetic XD

[Miyu]

She couldn't, she wouldn't, but she must.
She dropped the false admiration, left behind the mockery. Complete and utter sincerity was required.
Should she move closer? No, no, that would be wrong, it would imply that she wanted him in return
But you do, you do want him
when the wanting was the farthest thing from her mind.
So she sat, across from the wickedness that was this land's king, she wrapped her resisting tail around her to rest on her paws, and she waited.
"Oh, I don't know," she murmured, in response to both questions asked and questions that were not asked or truly questions, more demands. "On one side, it is awfully cold up here," she said with sincerity. "But I don't know if you're really my type.
"But then," she mused, getting up and now pacing, pondering. "That wouldn't matter to you, now would it? You take what you what, when you want, how you want. You're a taker, you take and take and you only give misery and heartbreak in return."
She pondered this for a moment, all the while pacing in circles around the odd black and blue wolf, her tail waving through the air.
"I like it," she murmured. Big Fat Lie Number One. "It's... aggressive." she gave a shudder that could easily be mistaken for one of a tingling pleasure, but was actually from the cold. Her pelt really wasn't all that thick.
"So," she continued, still walking, still turning, still waving. "Who is this... someone? My guess is that's is a female. You're quite the ladies' man, aren't you?" The slightest hint of tease, but an easygoing, relaxed one. She sat in front of the brute again.
"So, yes, I believe I'll join you're little pack here," she concluded, then paused. An afterthought. From the voice. "But, Miss Arethia here doesn't like brutes like you. She'll put up with you for now, but she might get tired very, very quickly."
Arethia knew the danger in her words, but she didn't want him to try anything, although he most likely would anyway. That's all brutes were about, no? Sex, fighting, blood, sex, sex, and more sex. Despicable.

•397
•arethia
•ooc; no lyrics! amazing! XD
OHEMGEE. That was terrible. T-T
I'z sowwy. T-T

[' ' K.O.T.O.R.I.]

"No, no it wouldn't. Not at all, hah, hah. Why would it after all? You're you, and well, as you can see, I'm so me." He laughed, a delighted little sound at the idea of this word exchange, this little bantering that only came before he won. Which he did -- all the time. Hah, hah. She spoke so true, so perfectly, he nearly danced to the tune, to the dance she etched out in his head. Oh yes, sing his praises! Play him like a harp, a violin, a an instrument to be plucked and resonating with the pure hatred in his heart. So easy, this rage, to be used against himself. Until he bit, always until the jaws unsheathed, and the claws came dashing forward. Always before the death, the calamity. The dead can no longer laugh -- but they can grin and Armageddon knew this well. He would carve a pretty little mouth on her pretty little face and make her grin and grin and grin, agreeing with him, always with him.

Wasn't he number one? Numero uno. The best the of the best? Hah, he knew, and he knew she knew, that this was going to end one way, and one way only. He wouldn't have it any other way, and the Devil, his liege, his death and his life was there to whisper in his ear.

She spoke, he pondered, but he was barely listening, for there was no one to listen to but himself. Women were better off silent or they did this, and this, and this and though this situation between man and woman, male and female, was interesting, there were so many more things they could be doing. So many more interesting activities they could be experimenting with. Sex? Not just sex, no, though that too was the highlight of the evening, of the morning, of every single fucking second that flew by with his rapid, excited heartbeat. Wings trembled, the veins pulsing under thin skin, and feathers, gave credence to this excitement. Musk poured from his pores, made his eyes widen, dilate to large flat disks, nostrils worked, ears flicked up. But she taunted him with her witty manner, with her flicking, dainty tail, and her muzzle, so narrow and sweet, where it was yapping. always yapping. Didn't women know better?

Didn't they know when their audience has stopped listening? "She?" he purred, he murmured, he stepped forward, a motion, always a motion as the energy sizzled through him, made him want to run, and run, but he was anchored here by her scent, by her eyes, her mouth, the luscious curve of her hips. Oh yes, he'd have that, one way or another. Even if it cost him a limb, he would take part of that, someday -- but he had other plans, other wants and desires that differed greatly from the sheer want to own which dominated his gaze where it swept over her curves, over her face, her breath a mere puff of life that infiltrated his nostrils but could not stop the mildly disgusted stench that drifted from her. She could not lie with her very smell and he knew that, as he knew his own pelt, could trace with his eyes closed the very whorls which defined him, differentiated him. He grinned, like he would make her grin one day. "Hah, hah, you're so precious. There is no she, but you, my dearest, my darling, my little puff of fluff --- and what a beautiful she that is, I might add." he moved forward, closer to her, wings shifting, though still held close to his back, over the arch of his spine. No need to flare out -- they were weapons of a different sort and he would keep it sheathed, keep it nonthreatening like the claws that clicked against the ground, like the fangs that glimpsed between moving lips when he spoke.

When he knew her scent well enough to never forget, he spoke again, close, perhaps too close to her where his body seemed to tremble from the very near proximity to her own. A mere foot, a foot that seemed to span out for miles, as they stood at an emotional chasm which gaped wide between them. His grin softened, turned into a smile, as the black muzzle drew closer. "Well, there is one female, but she's old, brittle and cold. The one I speak of is Wolfbane. You'll like him with your wit and your well... you get the idea."

His tail flicked then, rising up to curl in a dominant position. "I like you, Arethia. You know what you want and you go for it. I'll be your toy, and we'll see how long you can lead me by the nose before I, too, get bored of you." he grinned then, slid forward and licked her face, a gross thing, nothing tender in it. It was malicious, mischievous and purposefully degrading as his tongue slid from her cheek to her ear. "Hah, hah. You taste very good, my dear. That's good. Very, very good."

[/color]

word count;; 854
tags;; Arethia
OOC;; w00t w00t ^-^

[Miyu]

She could not move, could not move nor breathe, and she could do nothing about it.
Oh, she breathed. She forced herself to intake the oxygen, then release it again, and she coached herself, silently encouraging her lungs to circulate the much-needed air.
But her chest was tightening, growing smaller and smaller, and soon she felt the air she was taking in was not enough; by the time the coarse skin of his tongue--his tongue, his-- left her fur, she was gasping, desperate for the air she so clearly needed. But no matter how many panting breaths she took, it was enough, and somewhere in her sub-conscious she knew that no matter how much air she gave to her wailing lungs, that it would never be enough.
Not anymore.
As Arethia--Arethia, the name she so previously loved to speak, how it rolled off her tongue in the most pleasant manner--simultaneously tensed and relaxed as his tongue slid down her cheek: tensed, for she did not enjoy being treated as an underling, she never had; and relaxed, because although she was now a member of his pack, a slave to the sonofabitch standing before her, she had a gut feeling that if she kept her mouth shut, head low, and did what she was told--no matter how vulgar--he might possibly leave her alone.
Or he could kill her.
For she had uttered an unspoken promise, mutually understood and resented on at least one side, and she could not back out.
Arethia was a murderer. She killed her own father, a fact she was reminded of by the dreaded voice every single freaking day of her life. She murdered her father, was abandoned by her mother, and hears her brother's voice in her head; death would be welcome if she could lose the daily madness she strives to fight off.
But does she truly want to die?
No, she loves life as much as the next wolf. Well, love might be a bit of an exaggeration, but she did not care to leave it yet. She still had a few missions she had to complete, and perhaps she would tell someone of them; maybe a stray wolf had chanced upon her mother.
Maybe he had raped her.
With that knowledge she could bring down the bastard before her or die trying.
But she wanted, she needed to live.
For now.
"I'll play with you and you'll play with me, my liege," she found herself saying. "But I play rough. I always play rough."