``dead dreams dancing in front [open]

[Trench]

i’ve got an eye for top tier women

Only a kiss… Had it started that way, all those years ago? Was that truly all it took? But he knew the answer to that, to that singular question, that perpetual thought, that notion which plagued the corners of his mind day and again, the one consideration he gave the time of day to ponder. Oh yes, he knew it well. It started long before the kiss, long before he ever touched her, long before she ever tried to fight, long before she ever gave in, before that moment she realized it was all in vain, that moment she realized she didn’t truly want to fight. Oh yes, it started long before all that. It started when he saw her first. When he set his gazes upon her, all the while his form remained hidden to her searching eyes, when he chose her—that was when he all began. A single glimpse was all it took, that single decision that she’d be his—and oh, did she ever become his. But he knew this, he knew it all, so, so well, he knew the story all too well; and he knew all the better how easily the cycle began anew. A single glimpse, that’s all it took, was all it ever would take, was all he needed now.

with legs so long they go straight to heaven

A ragged pull of tongue on lips swipes away the traces of gore, pulls from his mouth the remnants of deer. A pulse of muscle brings him above the carcass, a ripple beneath darkened hide pulled snug across the flesh, and a second pulse sends him soaring over it, a single bound to clear the mess left by the fallen life. A scream follows, ragged and strained, and unsteady legs crash through the underbrush, entangling and pulling free and entangling again. He pauses, dull gaze turned upon the fawn’s pathetic struggle, its wretched attempt to flee. It cries, again and again, blundering as it waits for an answer. But no breath remains in the torn corpse of the mother to answer its pleas. A smirk pulls across his maw, twisting his features into a cruel mockery of the wretched display. It grows within his chest, a quiet rumble which reaches up his throat, projecting itself beyond himself, a cruel chuckle, spooking the fawn further from the fallen mother. Yet even this grows dull, and he shakes himself, a roll of his shoulders waking his muscles from their relaxed state, and another movement pulls his body onwards. Unhurried steps carry him forth, pausing alongside of trees to rub his lengthy frame against them, leaving his scent upon aged bark, bark which told the stories of many a passing, but which now gossip his above all others. And each new tree brings him closer alongside the river, and the river itself greets his arrival, pulling against paws dipped within its grasp, cleansing them of every remnant of flesh left within their grasps. At last he pulls himself from the flow, turns, and, with a bound, lands himself upon dry land. Muscles relax at last, lowering himself along the sod, where he lies in wait, scanning the forest edge with disinterested eyes. Yet interest, he is sure, is soon to come; for a glimpse is, of course, all it takes.

but tonight i’ll take what i can get
_{incubus
545
lyrics © dashboard confessional
Open to anyone, though I’m sure I can expect Andee to have something to say to my boy’s hunting habits XD}

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[Andarial]

Andarial heard the scream as she prowledthrough her territory. It was a victorious scream of a jaguar. Her head whipped in its direction and she lifted her head to scent the air, her mouth open to have that waft of smell press against the scent glands on the roof of her mouth. She growled low and angry. Another intruder had wandered into her territory. It seemed that many of those had been crossinginto her land. It made her furious, they were becoming to cocky. She started at a fast but steady trott in the direction of the jaguar's call.

Her ears were back against her skull as she came upon the jaguar's kill. He hadn't even been decent enough to eat all of it, not that it would have mattered to Andarial either way she would have been mad. Her tail lashed and it was her time to scream. It was even eerier than the jaguar's had been as it had been higher yet husky at the same time. It carried far and she stood tall with her broad leopard chest thrust forward and her tail lashing still.

Following his scent the beautiful snow leopard galloped in his direction. Though smaller than him by far she galloped right up to him until she was 7 feet away and her ears folded back once again, "You are the hunter!" it wasn't a question. "Tell me,jaguar, why do you hunt on my land?!"

[Trench]

i’ve got an eye for top tier women

A single glance, one brief sight, a glimpse was all it took. That one event could start it all, a domino effect, a butterfly effect; one event grows and grows and changes everything around it. A life, a world; it changed it all. And oh, how easy it was, to make that change, to bring about that reaction, and to sit back and watch it all, or to leave without a care. A glance was all it took, but that glance never was a backwards one; past and present merge and twist together to form the future, all one ever need do is to look forward to see behind, and what use is there in looking back, anyways? To see the betrayal? That pathetic wench, that piece of trash? A broken toy, all the fun taken out of it? Why watch a cycle he already knows? And he does know, oh so well, how it always ends; how better a way to know than to have lived it himself? A single glance, one simple decision, a chain of actions, and the cycle begins anew, winding and winding in upon itself, creating father, creating son, again and again; what change need ever come of it? What change could ever come of it? Like reruns of old shows, each story looses charm once all the lines are known; there are no surprises, no more humor when the jokes grow cold, yet again and again they play, even once no one cares to watch, once no one enjoys them. And all it takes is a single glimpse before one changes the channel, but still the story continues.

with legs so long they go straight to heaven

Again and again it plays, begun anew with each new glimpse, and now he waits for the show to begin again. Listen, can you hear? Begin the music, dim the lights, spotlight on, and here she comes, riding upon steed of white, warsteed with banner flying high, all the anger in the world saturating her pelt. Can you smell it? Take it in, take it all in; cut the music, lights back on; there are two players upon the stage. Quiet in the audience, the first lines are uttered. And what a fantastic performance. But the ending cannot be changed; the show has begun again. Muscles twitch, ripple, and pull, he heaves himself up, languid and relaxed, no tension, no fear, no annoyance; these are lines he knows, what use is there in reacting again to a story so old? A step, a step, again and again; why so far, little girl? Afraid to face the big bad boy? Lips pull again into a smirk, glimpse of white escaping from ebony lips. He chuckles quietly; what else is there to do at such a toy as she? ”My, my, my…” words are daggers when passed through his lips, each word a stab to slay the spirit, but the duel has just begun, and energy he must conserve; his voice is quiet, and his words slow, spoken at ease, as though to a fly, not really capable of understanding. ”Haven’t your parents warned you against speaking to strangers? Why, I do believe you can get hurt that way. And just wouldn’t that be a shame?” Chuckle entwines his words, filling the air and dispelling the silence eager to jump on the pause in his words. Movements are easy to cease, so languid are they, putting him at rest with his face close to hers. Eyes caress across her face, studying and taking in, before he reclines easily upon thick haunches, pulling back from her space. ”Hmm, yes, a terrible shame it would be, to see that pretty young face hurt. And we wouldn’t want that, now would we? Not at all, no, not at all; so run along, little girl; back to your parents; maybe they’ll protect you from all the terrible people out here.”

but tonight i’ll take what i can get
_{incubus
648
lyrics © dashboard confessional
Ohh, goody; I had forgotten how much fun he is XDD}

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[Andarial]

Fury erupted within Andarial. Her parents had been killed by a human long ago and so this mention of them made her vicious and angry. Leaping forward Andee’s ears folded against her skull and her claws unhooked as her paw came up swiftly to score three large marks into the side of the cat’s face, if it hit correctly. Her hackles were raised and her tail fluffed. Her odd golden eyes glinted so dangerously only the foolish would step any closer to her.

How dare this stupid fool come and make fun of her dead kin’s memory after hunting on her dying land. She wanted to rip this cat’s face from his skull and she would if she had the chance. Her viciously hooked claws reached for his face and ached to grip his flesh. “You shall die by my hand, jaguar!”

(sorry its short)

[Trench]

i’ve got an eye for top tier women

They fight, one falls. Stage directions written in simple block text, unfeeling, uncaring; a story told again and again, the same outcome every time, the same directions being followed. A flash of sword, a few angry words; interpret them as you will, but the story’s the same each time it is told. Stage blood spills, or real blood; it makes no difference, it all stains just the same. A retracting point, a fake stab? Maybe a real blade impaling an unknowing victim? Does it ever matter? Does the audience really know? The stage lights dim, the stage goes black; does the actor get up, or is his body dragged off? What truly goes on behind those thick, red curtains? Does the audience even care? The show goes on, regardless the fate; the actors are disposable, anyone can play the roles. The cold, dark letters on the script won’t change, the story’s the same whoever acts it out. What difference does it make, if a new person falls each time? Does any actor care who acts beside them? The character is the same, the lines the same, no flair, no interest; same old story every time. Stage directions written on a page; all he can do is follow those cold, dark words.

with legs so long they go straight to heaven

Fury saturates the air, but fury is one-sided; anger cannot make another person care, hating them won’t change their mind. Claws flash from sheaths, a paw flies, they fight, but one does not fall. Not even a flinch, to spare his face from the tearing daggers unsheathed from heavy paws; stage blood spills, real blood spills, three thick gashes across ebony maw; but there is no make-up, no fake blood, and pain sears into his face, yet not even a flinch pulls him from her range. Cool smirk pulls across his lips, tugging at gashes, extracting crimsons from the dark wounds, yet only does the smirk widen more, defiant, condescending. ”Oh-ho-ho…” pain lances at each word, a dull throb turned sharp by movements, yet this, too, is ignored. ”Kitty’s got claws… My, my, a little violent, aren’t we? Didn’t your parents teach you any manners, missy? Where I come from, children respect their elders; or is this place so heathenish? Hm, hm, hm…such a shame, if it is. Or are you just that rude? Hm, guess it wouldn’t be the first time that a pretty face is a girl’s only asset. Really is a shame, though, don’t you agree?” A pause, he laughs; stage directions flashing on an inner eye, memories of words written on pages. ”But I guess you wouldn’t, now would you? Hm, don’t guess it matters, either way. But I’m curious, just what makes you think you can play with the big boy, hm? You think you’re so tough, girlie? Now just where does a thought like that come from, hm?”

but tonight i’ll take what i can get
_{incubus
475
lyrics © dashboard confessional}

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

Shadows were dancing before his eyes, flickering between the dangling branches that arched above his body, shielding him from the false heat that quickened winter's pulse. Instead, nestled among the rocks and the snow, an indistinguishable blend of colors that made him nearly invisible among the hard stone, the giant snow cat had been dozing, muzzle cradled along the stiff peaks. To some, uncomfortable, to him, looking more like a broken doll than a live creature, it was bliss; the stone was cold, sucking at the heat which gathered in the creases of his body, made even winter unbearable when the sun was too brilliant in the sky. Drifting among the currents of amorphous, shadowy thoughts that impressed upon his subconscious with the lazy indifference of cat, Kotori lingered between the folds of existence, content in being where he was.

Naturally a loner, feeling particularly pleased at his currently uninhibited state, his eyes opened -- well one of them at least. Dark scars pooled in the hollowed socket of one eye, dried cataracts nothing but an ancient dream of his perfect vision; instead, with languour, his other, furiously orange eye slid open, gazed at the world which was slowly revolving without him, turning on it's axis and living while the cat simply lazed, stomach fat on his latest meal; the carcass of the beast was mangled, legs twisted, head angled backward to bare emptied, glistening spine. Nose inching it's way toward the stripped creature tangled among the angles of rock and stone, Kotori's muscles pulsed, gathering for the haul to creep forward as his muzzle nudged at the creature's freshly destroyed hide. The memory of it's sweet, thick blood pooling on his tongue raised the hackles along his spine: flesh wrinkled, rolled together in taut, tense lines across his shoulders as his tail ticked at the very end.

A ponderous sniff at the carcass and the cat was stepping down from his self-made throne, body moving with an elegant grace of one potent with self-confidence, simmering over with the edginess of savagery. He belonged to the pack, but remained apart, let the feminine half of his soul do what she will with the darling children she had felt she must adopt - enough for him to chase off the males which would follow her, claim her. His brain skipped ahead of him to the lustful curves of her body, the fire in her golden eyes as she launched herself at him -- daring to do such a thing. So bold, so stupid. Affection as condescending as it was indulgent slithered through the flanks of his spotted body, moving in a world of black and grey with oily ease.

Until her scent blended with that of male -- at first the cat paused, muzzle wrinkling in a display of sharp fangs, incisors thick and sharp as individualized knives, then the rage, as he slid further down into himself, withdrawing from the world as the darkness consumed him from the inside, flames licking along under his skin. He didn't deign to sniff twice, but the rage was rich with temptation, heat curling in his belly though he had just eaten, though he had had his fill of blood but the bloodlust of claimship was different from that of hunger. It was hunger, an addiction and a visceral need to seek, dominate, destroy and it began with the whiff of musk, and ended with the pungent, metallic taste of blood. Claws flexed as his muscles loosened and he followed - followed where he had no right to follow but for the right of one so full of arrogance he did not think twice on his recklessness, or the potential distrust that was already abundant between the two unmated but physically bound pair. Kotori did not take left overs.

The steps proceeded him, darkness as vile as the poison that urged him on with each pulsing beat of his heart seeming to snarl out from the very emptiness in his eyes. There was a waiting sickness there, swirling in the burning orange of his eyes, a phosphorescence that saw keenly through his own manifestations and into the hearts of others. He was arrogance. He was pride. The reincarnation of evil itself he seemed to have manifest from the very shadows that curled and writhed around the flickering shades of the trees; the leaves trembled as if they were aware with that sixth sense the trees have, that danger was on it's way.

Silence was profound, deafening as the world gave way before him, parting as the Snow Leopard emerged from the very shadows, thick two inch fangs glimpsed beyond the toxicity of his madness -- the very air around him burning with the richness of tension, of the anger which rode him hard, fast, brutally -- and he gave into it, gave into it as the insane gave into their own unique cleverness. Jaws gaped open in a silent snarl of displeasure, his eye churned with rage. Walking with a tenacity of brilliance, his paws left deep imprints into the soft soil, the virgin white of the snow dulled in his flame colored eyes. He was intensity, he was distortion as his image flickered in the shifting currents of water that gushed over rocks and . But none could surpass the sickness in his mind, nothing could impose goodness in a soul that was so corrupt it barely registered that the things around him were living, and their purpose was to live.

Death.

Death walked the earth with more compassion, more mercy. Unmovable, dispassionate and treacherous, there was but one cat he had ever truly owed allegiance to, and she was gone. Gone by the very jaws which trembled for Andee's throat betwixt his fangs, for her blood to soften the harsh edges of hunger -- then the male. The male last for his audacity at claiming what was already his. Paws nearly silent on the ground, Kotori slid through the bracken, a rough purring growl ticking out from his throat as he stalked up from their side, his eye ablaze as he beheld the creature she was with. The creature who bleed -- goddamn his desire for it! The monstrocity parted the way, the echoing silence heralding his presence. He was here again, and he was not to be stopped.

Excitement pinched his heart, blood surging through his ears as he titled his muzzle, growl sliding off into nothingness as he spoke, voice rough, "And you are?" his tail twitched, ticked at the end as his gaze bored into the creature, claws flexing into the dirt as muscles writhed with restlessness under his pelt, bringing life to that which felt at the moment, quite lifeless. Mine! the beast inside of him howled, and he could only smile crookedly, ears twitched to the side and back. Never once did his gaze look to Andarial.

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word count;; 1148
tags;; Incubus, Andee, anyone (I assume) <3
OOC;; Next post will be better, I promise, I've
been rping a completely different character all day so
the transition was a little difficult for me.

[Andarial]

Furious at his mocking but knowing better than to act, Andarial just narrowed her eyes dangerously. She would have raised her brow if she had one, instead she hissed out a laugh and said,"Big boy? I've seen much bigger." She was fighting to keep her cool. She was both worried and angry. This cat just kept poking fun but he didn't even seem to notice the deep cuts she had made in his cheek. If he continued to act like this she could only fight him with words, wound his ego.

Then cameher hero.Her partner, her alpha male, Kotori. Sudden rushes of relief, affection and strange pulls of lust slammed through her body. She forcedherself to walk calmly over to the other snow leopard, instead of rushing. She didn't rub her head against his body like she wanted to, instead she just stood about three feet away from him. Electricity seemed to spark from him to her and she felt herself ache withthe need to touch him. Still she ignored him.

"Jaguar, this is the alpha male of the pack whose land you are hunting on, he only answers to me. I am the alpha female of the Lashia pack. I would be a lot more apologetic to me, now that i have introduced myself," her voice was calm but her tail lashed showing her anger. She felt the need to kill the ingrate who stood before her.

She still glared at the catwhose name she didn't know. Daring him to attack her or to mock her. Right now all she needed was one more wise-crack andshe would attack him.

[Trench]

i’ve got an eye for top tier women

Dim the lights, spotlights on, search the stage, find the edge, the audience is restless—what’s going on now?—count the seconds, slow and steady, follow directions, don’t look around. He knows what’s coming, has rehearsed so many times, the story never changes, the players never change, never, never, but he doesn’t look around; stage directions, written in bold block text, cold, dark font spread out on the page, he knows his part, knows it all too well; don’t look, don’t look. Let them wait, don’t cue them in; but there’s the light, searching the side, back and forth, back and forth, scanning the edge, but when the time comes, all movement ceases, and unerringly the spots have found him, singled him out of the forest, not a single extra jump, he makes the same entrance every time, rehearsed, rehearsed; everyone knows their part. A gasp, the audience moves to the edges of their seats—who is this newcomer, this new strange character, and what will he do?—but nothing has changed, no, nothing has changed; he knows his part, the same as the rest, and he follows those cold, unfeeling letters on that cold, unfeeling page, those simple directions written in the plainest of language. There are no surprises here, not for the actors, those all-knowing players, only the audience is new, only they left in the dark, the dark left on the edges of that spotlight, the stage lights; and here they come, off the dimmers; three players on the stage now, three actors, three characters, all playing their parts. But nothing has changed; no, not at all, nothing has changed. All part of the play, all in the script, but which script, which script? No longer the two-part play he had expected, but he knows them all so well, so well, so very, very well; switch gears, run lines through head, he still knows his part, for his part never changes, but now there are three parts, a new script, but one he knows all too well. Lines are delivered—good show, good show—but he is the star, and all eyes are on him, and now it’s his turn to deliver his own.

with legs so long they go straight to heaven

Jealousy; jealousy it is now, saturating the air, soaking his pelt, searing his nostrils; yes, jealousy and hate, anger and lust, such powerful, powerful emotions, all over them both, yet he washes his hands of them all, lips curled easily into signature smirk, that condescending look; what threat is this? None at all, no, not even a little, not to his mind, a mind bent by superstitions into begging perfection, believing perfection. Spawn of a demon, like it or not, and demon himself; how can he be killed? There is no answer, this question not one even entertained, for why question the impossible? Arrogance is his friend, it clothes him in tendrils of warmth, grasps him and does not free a single thought for self-doubt; yes, arrogance has moved in, and so it stays, settled comfortably within his mind, among his thoughts, turning them all to entertain perfection. Chuckle rumbles out from lips curled comfortably into a smirk, amusement alight in dull yellowed eyes. He tosses a look over his shoulder, does not turn, does not face him; what threat, what threat? ”Hm, hm, hm, so rude, so rude, indeed; hasn’t anyone any manners about here? If you want her, you’ll just have to wait your turn, I’m afraid; after all, it’s only fair, for I do believe I was here first.” He turns, he watches, but there she goes; of course, of course, now follow those words, those unfeeling words written out on the page, follow, follow, go to him, but he doesn’t care; he expected this, for the story’s always the same. More lines, delivered in feminine tones, so bold, too bold, so very, very, stupidly bold, but the same answer given: a smirk, a quiet chuckle; why look, why look at the girl, playing her role, acting so brave, so very, very tough; for that’s all any of this is, an act, a play, one big, fake lie. ”Come now, my dear, do you actually believe that gives you any real authority?” Head waves side to side, tongue clicks quietly against rough palate, tsk, tsk. ”Little girls playing dress up, pretending to be big, tough men, thinking their in charge; that’s all you alpha faes are good for, all you ever do. And him? A shame, a strong man answering to a woman, but if he gives in so easily to the little girl just moved to big girl britches, I’m afraid he must not be so strong after all.” He smirks, tosses a taunting glance in his direction, eyes back on the girl; she’s all he wants, this fellow main player; the other is just a distraction, a side role easily disposed of, but she, she is his goal. ”Let me tell you something, my dear little girl, titles are nothing; they don’t feel, or breath, or kill; they aren’t loyal, they don’t care who wears them, they won’t miss an owner once dead. Call yourself what you will, but that title doesn’t belong to you; it won’t save you from the big, bad boys out here, and neither will he.”

but tonight i’ll take what i can get
_{incubus
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lyrics © dashboard confessional
XD Incubus is fantastic, Lol. And this isn’t at all bad, considering I just got off work.}

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

Oh, this wasn't good, not good at all. In the end, when there are three instead of two, blood is spilled and a third comes to life, but the beast, oh, the dark animal who's emotions are silent but all-consuming as they ride the very tension in the air is neither puzzled nor confused. Empathy, impossible, improbable, clicks into place: a piece of a puzzle he had not even known existed switches in his head, brings nothing but stillness to his writhing muscles. Stoicism does not describe it. Pride does not even equate. No, in the endlessness that moves behind his eyes, his potent all too feeling eyes, he has been worked up for reasons he cannot understand. Provoked by misunderstanding, by a thing that does not truly live in the same world as the feline he had claimed for his own. Oh no, oh no, there is nothing but a slithering spark of joy that slashes through the anger, convulses in the quivering restlessness put at ease by these thoughts, these circles he walks in his own mind.

He knows. Kotori knows the words that rasp over the tongue of his opponent, the arrogance, the impossible certainty that tastes like metal in his mouth. He's met this kind before, was this kind, could feel the anger drinking off of this similarity, knowing it, recognizing in it a piece of his own soul and it turned the path of his eyes. He could see the way Andarial's muscles locked into place, the way she checked herself, wanted to do things that he would let her do if they were but alone -- but it was a quieter impulse, a desire muted in the impossibility of this situation. Not what he had thought, no, not at all and the more Kotori thought about it, the more he wanted to know this creature, to follow the paths that his mind would take, to judge, to see, to feel -- it was a physical thing that pulled at him, instinctual for the words that taunted them, that would rile the feline beside him did not affect him but bounced off of him like oil.

It could not be -- Kotori was known to be reckless in the face of anger, when consumed by his physical, bestial lusts for ownership, for domination, but it was so hard to feel chained to that path when it was his own voice being spoken to him, when it was an animal that thought on wavelengths so similar to his own that he could barely register that he should be offended, that he should feel protective. But he wasn't, and Kotori knew that he probably won't ever feel protective of the land that Andarial had claimed for her own, or the cats that she had adopted into her guild. They were not his cats, and they had nothing to do with how he would live. His life was pursuing her, in owning her and wandering the lands. He walked where he wanted, he lived where he felt he should - and it was in this window that he stepped in and out of.

She allowed him claim dominion over the other cats -- he would bow to none. Not even her, though she had felt the implication was suffice to say he would. She spoke, and he listened, but was unaffected. He was the third wheel here, the witness, the strength to back up her fiery temper and it was a place he found himself squirming in, violated by the ownership she had claimed on him, like the she who had done it before her. But Olya was more powerful - he had lost an eye and an ear to her hateful lusts, to her queer desire to birth another creature in the world. Besides him. Though he didn't know she had been barren since birth, Kotori had shouldered the blame, had followed simply because she pursued when he left.

Death tasted fine on his palate, and it was here again, looking at him in the face with a disdainful discoloration of eyes as the brute watched Andarial, spoke to her, drew her further into the anger he knew she was easily persuaded into following. It was one of her faults, a flaw she did not see in herself, and it was one that Kotori had found easily manipulated. His eye slid to the side, watching her, the way she reacted to this creature that wanted, and though the jealousy flared up in his heart (he did not think anyone would dare to covet what was his by right) Kotori followed the darker path, the one not lit by emotion though it was often the track he followed. Easier to kill in hot blood than cold, and it tasted so much sweeter when he fell into the habit that even the addiction to flesh he should not admit to consuming was quieted by it, satiated by it.

He moved -- the first in a long series of motions, his ears flicking upward, one torn and looking unbearably disfigured, the other round, tight, pale as the snow which covered the ground. Claws sheathed, pelt sliding over bones, the creature's lingering orange eye settled on the jaguar. Those words were the ones he would have uttered had he in his sights a delectable fool, teasing him with their nearness, with their scent and their false bravery. Those motions, those intentions were so familiar an ache settled in his chest and the pupil in his eye dilated to a slit.

How to argue against something he believed in? Kotori could not and would not and instead of rising to the bait to defend the noble (and all too moral) feline, he found himself laughing, the sound almost sibilant. "Oh how stupid we all must seem." the laugh petered out, quieted to a rumbling purr of amusement as his eye flicked over the heavier, if smaller of stature creature. Big boy, indeed. "You, superior of wit, provoke her, and she, little darling that she is, attacks. But then, what will I do?" he drew closer, ponderously ticking his tail as his eye slid over the creature's power, his arrogance and his surety. "In one thing you are mistaken: you were not here first."

word count;; 1050
tags;; Inc, Andee
OOC;; w00t proofed! ^__^

[Andarial]

How dare he not listen to her title! How dare he think her weak! HAtred swirled in her golden eyes andshe meant to takea step forward. Meant to leap upon his head and rip his ears from his cranium. But before she could do either of those things Kotori stepped forth. Andarial turned her angry glare toward him, ready to attack him instead for getting in her way. Then he spoke and she knew in his weird way that he was defending her. Andee felt her heart skip a beat.

If they were alone and it had happened some how, Andarial knew she would somehow show her affection. But right now they weren't alone and Kotori was practically calling the jaguar out. Excitement shook through her body and she felt like laughing and crying and squealing all at the same time. Instead she settled for a secretive smile.

Suddenly the smile dropped from her face. What would happenif the jaguar won? Would Kotori be killed and the jaguar force Andee to breed? No, Andarial would never let that happen. Besides Kotori could never lose a battle. He beat her that one time didn't he? That means he's a really good fighter. All Andee had to do was make sure nothing bad happened. That's all.

[Trench]

i’ve got an eye for top tier women

A gasp, the audience grows unruly, grows too loud, but the show must go on, their reactions are nothing, nothing at all, they aren’t in this show. All that counts are the actors, those conforming little players following those unchanging directions, simple block text, dark and cold on a page. But what’s this? What script is this? Have the lines changed so much? Have they changed at all? Yet nothing is betrayed; an actor he is, and acting is his life, his sport, his thrill; no, nothing is betrayed, yet these lines he doesn’t know. What script, what script? What player is this? Those cold dark letters don’t fit this part; there’s never been room on a page before for two deviants, two lusting demons; never before, never again; he’d not see this day come again, this he knew, yet he’d learn this script, same as any other. What new script, and what new fun? Yet still he knew the end, he always knew the end; what other end could come? A cycle was a cycle; it could bend and it could turn, but the cycle is never broken; so it was, so he knew it’d always be. A single glimpse, a decision; add a player, maybe two, but the actions set in motion find themselves unchanged, the result is always the same, the result can never change. Bend the cycle, bend the mold, but nothing ever changes, never truly changes; fleas jumping around on a planet too big in a galaxy too huge to have any real effect, do as they will, try as they might, the cycle is always the same. Surprise fades swiftly, just another script, just another play, but all the shows end with the falling of the curtain, a single sweep of thick red fabric; he knows what is to come, he knows all too well, a few changed lines make no difference at all, the story is the same, and he’ll play along as always he has. The show must go on as always it does, and he’ll give a show, alright, yes he’ll give them all quite a show.

with legs so long they go straight to heaven

Dull eyes shift at last to fall fully in the male’s face; oh, how the roles have changed, how it all has shifted so easily, yet still his comfort leaves his muscles at ease, languid and loose, unworried, unperturbed, still only amused, playing along as he knows to do. Head tilts easily to one side, considering this fellow brute for the first time since setting sights upon him, since he had made that triumphant entrance as the jealous boyfriend come to save the day; yet where was that jealousy now? Where had that tangy scent on the wind gotten to? He almost missed the taste upon his tongue, almost; yet he found this new script, this new game, so much more interesting. ”Indeed, that is the question, is it not? What will you do? I admit, I, too, am curious. Perhaps I should take the honors of the first strike? Or simply continue what she started earlier? Would that get a reaction? Would that get me the answer? Will you jump to defend her then? Or will you only defend her own foolish actions? Do you only dare defend the fights she starts? Or will you start something yourself, hm? What will you do, indeed?” Smirk plays across his lips, taking rightful place upon a maw so easily twisted to its form. Gaze turns from this fellow demon, this brute with which he shares some strange camaraderie, turns to the female, his fellow star player, the real target of this show, the tragic heroine, though she need not realize it yet. ”And what about you, hm? Will the dear little girl let the big brave boy fight for her? Or is she brave enough to step up and fight a battle all her own, hm?” Head slides easily to tilt to the other side, chuckle rumbles quietly, deep in his thick chest. ”No…no I don’t think she is. How will you fight, if you’re hiding back there behind him already, hm? Too bad…your blood would be so much sweeter than his could ever be, I’m sure.”

but tonight i’ll take what i can get
_{incubus
702
lyrics © dashboard confessional
Ohhh, Kotori is fantastic XD and oh, Incubus still found a way to pick at Andee; staying quiet won’t help her, haha}

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

-- and the rope ties them tighter and tighter; jaguar, leopard, male, female, it is all and nothing between two creatures who have been fashioned of the same make. It was there like a hollow echo in Andarial, a creature he had foreseen in his dreams though he had known it naught. It was in the way his false mother had raised him, changed him, molded him to be King to her Queen, to rule her as she thought to rule him and to roll his shoulders like the constantly shifting tides of emotions which would sweep them far out to sea. He was the current, the manipulation, the bald truth taken as a lie and he glorified in it, this power which stretched taut between two males seeking the same female, in different ways -- oh so many possibilities. They opened up before his eyes like branches of the same maze, breaking off and hollowing out as the bush grows older, stronger, fat on the lives stolen in their ever-changing paths.

It was so between the two, and it would forever be so between two males who saw the world for what it was, who knew it for reality when death came at the sound of their voices, at the strength of their jaws, and it was good, it was right, and he felt the thrill of amusement settle along the length of his spine. She did not speak -- one ear flicked back, broken and torn, but caught the catch of her breath, the exhalation, the sound of her paws, her living, her sheer existence in the world. Bold, so bold even when she shoved her throat into another's fangs - it was her beauty, this frail part of her, and it was a thing he coveted, admired, wanted to roll around in the forest to explore it, to know it without breaking it. But this one, oh, this creature with the dull, emotionless eyes did not see the beauty in her - or saw it for something else. It was at once exhilarating and frustrating to know that it was a thing he was only aware of, this power that she wielded over others that they only knew for stupidity. It was, it is, the mind told him, but the soul -- lonely thing that it would forever be cried a different message, and torn between the two, the cat did what he did best: balanced between the two realities with the ease of one walking along the very edges of the river that gushed and slithered beside them.

The sound of the water over rocks was a thing of the past, and he was in the present -- no, he was projecting himself into the future, and he would take them with him, he would show them the possibilities here that were endless, that were beautiful in the sheer physicality of their beings, entwined as they were by Fate's frigid, cold hand. This world could be theirs if they but wanted it, and it was in that wanting that the world would take on color, would take on meaning as it hadn't been for some time. Guidance, it was all they needed, all they really wanted, a sense that they were doing something, not just a blank spot in a pattern that they would not see until death. Until death -- and that was sweet as well.

Those words, they brushed over him with a delicious tenacity to provoke, to incite and bring forth the creature that this other knew instinctively must reside under his own flesh. Jealousy, domination -- these things were as part of Kotori as his broken ear, as his lifeless eye and they were things he could not eradicate, would not eradicate from his being even if he were offered a new shell to reside in. Appreciation sparked his eyes, brought heat in a condensing wave that rolled up from the depths of his soul and poured through his body, washing through the doubts, the wondering, the what if -- he was not on the world anymore but lifted up, up, up to a place where it was so easy to see clearly, to see with all eyes, and he knew the way it would play out, knew it the same way this creature, this jaguar, this brute, could lift his muzzle and scent the changes in the wind.

Oh, scarred one, harbinger of dangerous forces, bringer of change, you are the thing to unlock the stagnant waters that the snow leopard had begun to see, to feel, sloshing around his body. Her body, her temper was all he desired, but the package that came with her was not so sweet and there were times --- do not mistake him she-leopard! --- when he would gladly take her throat between his own fangs and extinguish that which he owned, that which he kept alive because he fancied keeping her around. So dangerous to play with fire, and she had opened her land to it, let it ravage and eat what it will, but never think it tamed when it encircles you, when it rubs it's hot, pulsing body against you, when it purrs so deeply in it's throat it simply cannot be but putty against your warmth and your light! It is a thing which seeks the other parts of his scattered soul and Kotori was not known to share so lightly. A triangle opens up before him. One corner the female, tempest of his soul, the other, the anchor, the cool, unfeeling nightfall that engulfs all in shadow. Oh, oh.

A shiver of pleasure sinks into his flesh as Kotori acknowledges the barb, the wit sharpened against the stone of his flesh! If the creature had carved out the very rossetes of his pelt, it would have felt as sweet. He did not chuckle, though the others voice sought the flaws in his armor, sought to provoke that which did not wished to be provoked. Like open arms, he heard, he let the guard down and danced just a little closer to this other, darker flame that sparked and shook with the same force as his own. "So very clever," he nearly purrs, his voice so different from the other brute, the nameless one, the sacred one which offers to open the door he had not thought would be opened to him. Take it, whispers his soul, crying out it's desires unto his inner, softer hearing. A rolling chuckle, a mocking mimicry; Kotori stretches out, muscles loosening as his claws unsheathe, work the very earth as his spine arches, tail ticks. "You are wrong - again, of course." muzzle ripples slightly, a glimpse of fang, of black gums, sparks of amusement, of puppet strings cut. "I defend what is mine the way you might defend that mangled prey of yours had it still life in it." he paused, tail twitching as the thick rope of muscle rose, slid along the ground to his hindquarters, "Unless you would simply give it up. You do not seem the coward, but there are few times in which I am very, very wrong." a lilting challenge, an implication of weakness. Oh, this game was sweet!

He walks toward the female, Andarial, beautiful in his eyes, for reasons she probably did not know - or never would know. Almost in spite of herself, of her recklessness (though that, too, was something they shared in common). "You know this creature, this beautiful thing before you." and he half-circled the Alpha of this territory as if presenting her, much like he had circled her the first time they had met, when her claws had seared into his back. The pelt shivered as if in delighted remembrance of their shared mortality. "Is mine." ears flicked up, toward the other. O shadowed one! "To do with as I please, to eat, kill, fuck as I want. She dies, she lives, she breathes because I wish it to be so - so tell me, stranger, by what right do you threaten what is mine, and mine alone?" ears flick down, pin against skull as the hot flank of his body rubs up against the delicate thing beside him.

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word count;; 1378
tags;; Inc, And --
OOC;; OMG! Andee
is going to kill Kotori when she
has the chance!

[Andarial]

Andee cocked her head and listened to him. When the jaguar said that she wasn't brave Andee knew right then and there she would attack him. But then Kotori came to her aid. She smiled as he called her beautiful. She stared at him sweetly. She never expected that to come out of his mouth. But then what followed after he said it made her mad. No, it didn't just make her mad, it made her furious. So furious that her pupil practically disappeared into the gold of her eyes.

How dare he! How dare he! She was not his! She was no one's! A snarl ripped itself from her mouth. As he touched her flank she turned to face him quickly and, with her angry gold eyes, she openedher motuh and struck like a snake trying to sink her teeth into his shoulder. She was so and she had forgotten of the third party either that or she just didn't care, not even Andarial was sure.

"Go to hell!!" She screamed.

[Trench]

i’ve got an eye for top tier women

A shift: a change in scenery, a change in theme, a change in characters, perhaps, as well; and here? A change in all but one; the river remains unchanging as the cycle seen in his dull eyes, unfeeling, uncaring, rushing by without pause to observe the scene which unfolds with so much drama upon its bank. The scenery does not change, but he can scent it, can feel it, the changes in the air, the tweaks, the white-out and the scribbles, the words on the page scratched out and re-written, penned in rough hand-writing, font that has feeling, font that has anger and jealousy, but a twinge of something darker, the hand of a demon akin to himself, a demon looking to turn a world inside out, to break her spirit same as he would do; his role has not been changed, no, not at all, but his role has been joined, shared now by two players, two characters facing each other upon the stage, now turning to face the third, a united front with a rift of species, of intentions, yet the outcome will come the same, whoever the victor. One fights, who falls, who falls? The ink and the white-out make things so unclear, yet still he is at ease, still he can see, can feel, can taste the outcome, whoever bends her and breaks her, she still falls the same way, the tragic figure with that tragic flaw, that one flaw which encompasses and entangles and enslaves them all: beauty. A pretty face is all it takes, and misfortune falls upon them, around them, pelts them like furious rain, clinging into their pelt, and she? A pretty face is all she has, enraptured by her own beauty, arrogance and a crush on herself, all spinning her faster and faster to the downfall, offering no shelter from the lust of men, the actions they all take when that web of beauty entwines them, when they prove the more witty to entangle the web to their own uses. And she? No wit, none at all, nothing but temper and arrogance, and the web is turned so easily, so easily. What does he care who does the turning, who takes the pleasure? These new words on the page, this new script, this turn of events, it all has been enjoyable enough, would not the pleasure of breaking her, so same as all the others, be anticlimactic to this play? Let him have her, but he’ll have his fun first; the show must go on, and he’ll play his part to give the show. Sit back, audience, sit back and wait, sit back and watch.

with legs so long they go straight to heaven

Smirk meets approach, hide shivers across rippling muscles, a twinge of anticipation, of excitement, waiting for strike, meeting with words; a player all to his own heart, one breaking without touch, striking without claw, without fang; what use is muscle when words can harm so much deeper? Yet these words do not taint his thoughts, do not pull at his calm, his collection; these words he knows, these baited words placed to pull him from the shelter of his mind, the very same bait he uses himself; so easy is their stench to recognize, so well does he know them all. Yet bait cannot sit within the water without meeting its death by one way or another, and what better way to meet bait than with bait of his own, vocal strikes of his own? Tongue slides slowly out of mouth, rasps roughly across ebon-tinted lips, taking in the moment, enjoying it, the challenge, the thrill, all so sweet, all too sweet. ”Is that so? Yet I’ve seen no strike from you? But then, neither have you from me, so close to my recent quarry. And why is that, do you think? Why have I left it to rot, outside my defending reach? Because it is trash, used beyond all worth, worthy now only of rotting. But do you have the sense to recognize when that happens, that change? Or will you defend this trash until she is worthy not even of rotting into the earth? Will you waste your efforts on something so easily replaced? Beauty is a commodity swiftly losing its value, you’ll find.” Gaze slides easily to the female, baiting her as well with words meant for fellow brute’s ears, a taunt in every look, every shifting of his gaze. He only hopes she feels it, feels it to her core, where her spirit won’t let her refuse that challenge. Yet there again, three players becomes one too many, no matter how interesting, for her slides into view, in the way, stalking, preying upon her, playing the same game, the same role as the ebon-hued deviant has played so many times, wishes so badly to play now. Yet enjoyment sparks across his pelt, sharing in the role of this fellow demon, taking in words tossed so carelessly to him over an uncaring breeze, and smirk can do nothing but grow wider, more flashes of white splitting the sable of his face. Viper strike, snake that she is, comes so quickly, yet not without expectation, and chuckle rumbles loudly from his still-crimson-tinted maw; so violent, so quick, so much of a temper, this one has. Yet he is not the target now, but a spectator enjoying the show. ”Oh-ho-ho, she’s got fangs too, has she? And vocabulary to boot. Yours, is she, my friend? Well, let me tell you something; women, all these pretty faces, they’re about as loyal as titles. They don’t care who rides them, who wears them about like the trophies they are; as soon as their fancy changes, they’ll jump straight into bed with the next one, straight onto him, if they can manage it, actually. So is she so much yours as you think? I think not; I think you’ll find that she’s a little whore as much as she is a viper; she’ll not stay with you, should a more pleasurable option come up.” A pause, a smirk, a challenging glance, ”That is the right by which I challenge your ownership; will you still defend such trashy a prize?”

but tonight i’ll take what i can get
_{incubus
1031
lyrics © dashboard confessional
Ohhhh, Incubus is getting nasty XD And heck, I was not expecting a thousand word post fifteen minutes before I need to go to work, Lol}

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

Kotori, creature of liquid grace, oil slithering through water, contaminating, polluting, parting the purity in silence; it he who silence heralds, it is he who the birds still their squawks when he passes for they know his temper, his moods are as shifting as the self-same tides, as the wind which will caress your fur one moment, slice through your eyes the next. As wont to kill for the needlessness of it if he so desired, as to eat, he was a thing carved especially from the dark clay of their creation. There is good, there is bad, and then there is Kotori - a manifestation of all things condensed into one, boldly unique in his ability to pursue weakness of mind as well as body. Cats, giant cats of the world have not seen such a creature in a long time, especially here where dog and feline meet, purr, howl and rub flanks together in a disgusting display of friendship that this beast would never understand. This empathy they bind themselves with, is a thing of grotesque camaraderie, binding them with a worldly unity that is unnatural, and therefore against the very tones of Nature's sweet hand. She would damn us all, he thinks idly, in reminiscence as if he were a separate being from the triad of emotions rising, (or spinning lower into the vortex of singular thought), as if the creature beside him was not trembling with rage, as if the creature before him was not mocking him, provoking for the sake provocation - and it was right, if not termed good by most others.

Still, it was with a sense of foresight that he knew she would strike - how could she not when he had fairly belittled her hard-won efforts? He expected it, no ... oh no, he had craved it the same way he had craved her explosion of emotion upon the bottom of the rocks, when the world was simply divided by male and female. Now the dividers had been split and he had united himself to her, had joined his flesh with her spiritual one without her consent for he had spoken those words with honesty, I won't leave until you do.. He had forced her paw, had forced her to bend to his will, to accept him as Alpha, King to her precious Queen, but she knew he had no interest in other, inferior cats. There was only her, his prey, his prize, the thing he had won because none had been let as close. She had run her tongue along the rivets of his injuries, and he had known she had been caught in his trap; he would not let her escape. He chuckled, much like he had when she had first struck him, but this time did not let her strike as she would have -- oh no, enough of that -- paw raised, claws extended, brutal, ruthless as they struck through air, slid through fur, pushed against the thick muscle of her neck; he did not snarl -- flame colored eye ablaze! A fire ripped through his fur, motion turned to liquid condensation as he moved, ethereal, no longer of the worldly make but a creature of mist, everything, everywhere - senses heightened but for his poor eye, but that was nothing in comparison to the quarry he was to keep for his own. His own -- the soul would have no less.

His by right and he flung himself to the side, flanks shifting as muscles bunched, tensed, uncoiled with a deadliness that all cats are capable of, but few knew how to truly use. Such as she - darling little tempest with her snarling and her vulgarity. She was everything nasty in a shell of beauty and he was drawn toward the hypocrisy which sat so well on her shoulders, almost wanted to feel that nastiness sink into his flesh, to know it for it's own: a little treat of heaven given to him unto his keeping. Oh yes, little leopard, you had given yourself away too soon with your rash sense of timing. In front of the other was not a good choice, for when the leopard might have indulged in a little game of cat and mouse, now he was too focused on this otherworldly jaguar, this other brute that was so much more fascinating than the little kitten could ever be.

So much like himself! Bards never knew such a sweet tongue to bring a male down so low. A rumbling laugh, quiet, pleasure curling in the pit of his stomach. Kotori moved from the female, precious Andarial, spoke as he stepped before her, ignored her though he knew she might attack - was waiting for it, his insides twisting with delicious tension. Oh, it had been a good choice to follow this trail, and the giant cat, who always followed it to the end, who was always, always, the center of the show, flicked his tail, saying in that darkly purring voice (so obvious he is enjoying this spar!) "Trash that you would covet no less, so perhaps less trash that you would make it seem."

A slithering step, a wry glance, "Youth is beauty, whether it has blossomed, or has sunken deep, it is still her temper and her sense of importance that matters, that draws. You seek to take her from me -" a rolling wave of his shoulders as his ears flicked up, muzzle trembling with excitement - glimpse fang! "Well, I have kept her from many before, and you will not be the last to try."

Kotori's tail flicked upward, the thick muscle rising to brush against the she-leopard of which he spoke. "Perhaps I should run my claws tenderly over her face, make her beautiful only to myself." a laugh this time, heavy chested as he found immense pleasure in the idea. What had Olya done to him but that? Was he truly made in her mold? Oh, so sad, so possible, so ... satisfying. He had, after all, found himself a little bit in love with his mother (false though he did not know) and it had been her superimposed face over Andarial's that had first drawn him.

word count;; 1044
tags;; Inc, And
OOC;; eh, muse is a
little flakey but it came out
alright. BTW >loves< Incubus

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