Post by carcinoGeneticist on Dec 29, 2008 3:24:01 GMT -5
Smile
Characters: Rhiannon, Apocalypse
Word Count: 1199
Warnings: Gore, language, sexual innuendo. Lots.
Rhiannon watches him as he rests.
She knows that he's not asleep, not really. She can tell by the curve of his lips, the way he reacts to her touch. She lays her head against his chest, soft fur sliding against the smooth curve of his muscles. She knows that the way he shifts and yawns is a play, something he's putting on for her amusement. It's play. He curls his arm around her body, supporting her almost effortlessly and tapping her nose with a slender finger.
"Good morning." He says, and she beams at him. For all his pretending and play, she's found herself becoming rather fond of him. He returns the smile, closing his eyes to complete the look of content.
Deep down, she wonders if his smile, lovely as it is, is covering up something he'd rather she doesn't see. She wonders if it's a game to him, just like the rest of his behaviors.
Of course, she knows this is just her paranoia speaking. His touch speaks of true affection.
For as long as Rhiannon can remember, she's wanted him, or at least something like him. When she was young, she would tell anyone who would listen that one day she'd have a scythe, a scythe that would be her best friend and constant companion. She wanted something deadly but soft, someone who's company she could enjoy to the fullest. When she got her wish, she'd laughed, saying she got the soft and the fun and lost out on the deadly. He had the body of a fighter and was quick-minded, but he'd always struck her as being rather gentle, slow to anger, and perhaps even a little soft. But that was okay with her. It was a time of peace, and all she really needed was a friend that was hers.
"It's like all he wants is to lay around naked," she jokes to her mother, a small grin spreading across her muzzle as they walk down the long hallway. When she looks down the hall, she can see him standing at the end of it. His arms are crossed over his bare chest and his hair is falling into his eyes, but when she approaches he looks up, pushing his burnished-gold locks aside.
He smiles at her, and it's a smile filled with teeth sharper than her own.
~*~
The news comes to her in the middle of the night. Xiven had always played it safe and managed to avoid making too many enemies, but one threat was more than enough to set Rhiannon into action.
She travels in the dead of night, a cloak pulled tight around herself as she quickly makes her way to the place where the deal was going to be made. She calls Apocalypse, drawing him forth from her marking without a sound, and practically in her hands he shifts to his familiar human form. She drapes her cloak about him and brushes his hair into a short ponytail, letting her fingers linger on his cheek for the briefest moment. This is the first time that they have been in a dangerous position like this one together, and it makes her heart twinge with worry.
How can her gentle, loving Pale be involved in assassinating an assassin? It doesn't seem possible to him, even as she kissed his cheek and whispers a farewell in his ear.
"Be my eyes and ears for me, Pale. We cannot let them reach my Queen."
She watches him scale the wall, slipping in through a dark window, and she waits. She had no idea how long she's standing there in the shadows, only that with each moment that passes without her Pale one creeping back through the window is another set of worries.
And then, Rhiannon hears a scream. She rushes forward, throwing caution to the wind as she slams open the front door, expecting to find her weapon, her friend, held at knifepoint. She readies herself to send him back to wherever it is that he comes from in a last-ditch attempt to save him. She can't lose him.
She couldn't ever prepare herself for what she sees when her eyes adjust to the dim light of the room.
Apocalypse straddles one figure, a lightly built bipedal magpie colored in the bright tones of Midori. The man holds the magpie by the throat as he pins it with the weight of his body and doesn't notice his summoner as she stands in the doorway, dumbstruck. The bird's eyes roll with terror as its body spasms. There's blood coming from a gash on its forehead, a similar smear on the wall behind it. Its beak is shattered, and it makes a soft creening noise, turning terrified eyes at the human that's done so much damage to its body. Even through all of this, Rhiannon is dimly aware of another figure slumped in the corner, something that looks vaguely Lowlander and mustelid under all the blood that covers it. There is blood, too much blood, and the canine hybrid falls back against a wall in a quiet horror.
What brings the strong taste of bile to the back of her throat, though, is the look on her Pale's face. His eyes glimmer with delight as he speaks in a low tone to the bird, a wide smile on his mouth. She's seen that smile before, wrapped safely in his arms as he tells her a story, or on his resting face after sex.
He's still smiling that happy smile when he sinks his fangs into the bird's throat and rips, the blood spraying across him in a curtain and soaking both his body and the body of the magpie. Rhiannon watches in silence, her yellow eyes unsure as the man she'd thought to be gentle stands slowly, spitting some shred of trachea into the blood that's pouring from the ruin of the bird's throat.
He turns to his summoner then, wiping his mouth clean of blood.
"Sorry I couldn't get you, love." he says, still smiling serenely as he takes a step towards her. His voice is cheerful, a bizzare contrast when she looks over his grotesque form. "They were going to kill her. Didn't like the idea of a Torque in a seat of power, and now that the Spades dog is dead, she was top of the list. Then they were acting like they'd seen me, so I had to do something about it, hmmm?"
He drapes an arm around her shoulder and bites her ear affectionately, letting her feel his hot breath tickle the sensitive flesh. She shivers with the memory of what those teeth could do, but she can't help the soft and pleased whimper that is her reaction to the touch.
It's as unavoidable as the way she feels now that she knows exactly what it is that he's hiding from her, the way she feels with the knowledge that she has him as her ally. Something about the thought of the darkness inside of him lights her on fire and makes her shake with anticipation.
And so does the smile that he wears as they walk to a nearby stream to rinse the blood off of his body. She wants to fuck that smile onto him again and again.
Characters: Rhiannon, Apocalypse
Word Count: 1199
Warnings: Gore, language, sexual innuendo. Lots.
Rhiannon watches him as he rests.
She knows that he's not asleep, not really. She can tell by the curve of his lips, the way he reacts to her touch. She lays her head against his chest, soft fur sliding against the smooth curve of his muscles. She knows that the way he shifts and yawns is a play, something he's putting on for her amusement. It's play. He curls his arm around her body, supporting her almost effortlessly and tapping her nose with a slender finger.
"Good morning." He says, and she beams at him. For all his pretending and play, she's found herself becoming rather fond of him. He returns the smile, closing his eyes to complete the look of content.
Deep down, she wonders if his smile, lovely as it is, is covering up something he'd rather she doesn't see. She wonders if it's a game to him, just like the rest of his behaviors.
Of course, she knows this is just her paranoia speaking. His touch speaks of true affection.
For as long as Rhiannon can remember, she's wanted him, or at least something like him. When she was young, she would tell anyone who would listen that one day she'd have a scythe, a scythe that would be her best friend and constant companion. She wanted something deadly but soft, someone who's company she could enjoy to the fullest. When she got her wish, she'd laughed, saying she got the soft and the fun and lost out on the deadly. He had the body of a fighter and was quick-minded, but he'd always struck her as being rather gentle, slow to anger, and perhaps even a little soft. But that was okay with her. It was a time of peace, and all she really needed was a friend that was hers.
"It's like all he wants is to lay around naked," she jokes to her mother, a small grin spreading across her muzzle as they walk down the long hallway. When she looks down the hall, she can see him standing at the end of it. His arms are crossed over his bare chest and his hair is falling into his eyes, but when she approaches he looks up, pushing his burnished-gold locks aside.
He smiles at her, and it's a smile filled with teeth sharper than her own.
~*~
The news comes to her in the middle of the night. Xiven had always played it safe and managed to avoid making too many enemies, but one threat was more than enough to set Rhiannon into action.
She travels in the dead of night, a cloak pulled tight around herself as she quickly makes her way to the place where the deal was going to be made. She calls Apocalypse, drawing him forth from her marking without a sound, and practically in her hands he shifts to his familiar human form. She drapes her cloak about him and brushes his hair into a short ponytail, letting her fingers linger on his cheek for the briefest moment. This is the first time that they have been in a dangerous position like this one together, and it makes her heart twinge with worry.
How can her gentle, loving Pale be involved in assassinating an assassin? It doesn't seem possible to him, even as she kissed his cheek and whispers a farewell in his ear.
"Be my eyes and ears for me, Pale. We cannot let them reach my Queen."
She watches him scale the wall, slipping in through a dark window, and she waits. She had no idea how long she's standing there in the shadows, only that with each moment that passes without her Pale one creeping back through the window is another set of worries.
And then, Rhiannon hears a scream. She rushes forward, throwing caution to the wind as she slams open the front door, expecting to find her weapon, her friend, held at knifepoint. She readies herself to send him back to wherever it is that he comes from in a last-ditch attempt to save him. She can't lose him.
She couldn't ever prepare herself for what she sees when her eyes adjust to the dim light of the room.
Apocalypse straddles one figure, a lightly built bipedal magpie colored in the bright tones of Midori. The man holds the magpie by the throat as he pins it with the weight of his body and doesn't notice his summoner as she stands in the doorway, dumbstruck. The bird's eyes roll with terror as its body spasms. There's blood coming from a gash on its forehead, a similar smear on the wall behind it. Its beak is shattered, and it makes a soft creening noise, turning terrified eyes at the human that's done so much damage to its body. Even through all of this, Rhiannon is dimly aware of another figure slumped in the corner, something that looks vaguely Lowlander and mustelid under all the blood that covers it. There is blood, too much blood, and the canine hybrid falls back against a wall in a quiet horror.
What brings the strong taste of bile to the back of her throat, though, is the look on her Pale's face. His eyes glimmer with delight as he speaks in a low tone to the bird, a wide smile on his mouth. She's seen that smile before, wrapped safely in his arms as he tells her a story, or on his resting face after sex.
He's still smiling that happy smile when he sinks his fangs into the bird's throat and rips, the blood spraying across him in a curtain and soaking both his body and the body of the magpie. Rhiannon watches in silence, her yellow eyes unsure as the man she'd thought to be gentle stands slowly, spitting some shred of trachea into the blood that's pouring from the ruin of the bird's throat.
He turns to his summoner then, wiping his mouth clean of blood.
"Sorry I couldn't get you, love." he says, still smiling serenely as he takes a step towards her. His voice is cheerful, a bizzare contrast when she looks over his grotesque form. "They were going to kill her. Didn't like the idea of a Torque in a seat of power, and now that the Spades dog is dead, she was top of the list. Then they were acting like they'd seen me, so I had to do something about it, hmmm?"
He drapes an arm around her shoulder and bites her ear affectionately, letting her feel his hot breath tickle the sensitive flesh. She shivers with the memory of what those teeth could do, but she can't help the soft and pleased whimper that is her reaction to the touch.
It's as unavoidable as the way she feels now that she knows exactly what it is that he's hiding from her, the way she feels with the knowledge that she has him as her ally. Something about the thought of the darkness inside of him lights her on fire and makes her shake with anticipation.
And so does the smile that he wears as they walk to a nearby stream to rinse the blood off of his body. She wants to fuck that smile onto him again and again.
