Silence. It seems to follow him wherever he went. It clung to his armor, a deadly poison awaiting the moment to slip deep within one’s veins. As it did his own. Eyes narrow, piercing mercury orbs striking into the heart of the girl as she prances. His shadows blurring as they war within his mind, wanting to engulf her, to ingest her joviality and oh how they shriek! The pitch rises until rich piceous clad radars twitch, reacting to the ungodly racket within. She would be his, if only to consume, to degrade, and to lay waste to. She would be the first sacrifice in order to subdue the murmurs.

Slender legs move, paws cupping the earth like a cat, lithe serpentine cadaver seeming to make love to the space about him. His aura courting the world, a beguiling demon to charm then to ravage. To make thee fall in the most purest of ways so that he may partake in the most morbid of pleasures. There is nothing sweeter than the destruction of hope. It is like a hit of cocaine, bitter but titillating giving one such a high, such a ride that one searches for it over and over again. They will work themselves to the bone, bleeding and broken only to find that it was naught but an illusion while he watches. Oh he does enjoy the show and will cackle like the mad hatter he was.

Sardonic smirk ghosts his pale lips as saliva pools within his cavernous jaws as slate cesspools take in the femme, her svelte chassis causing a stir within nether regions. The bitch’s gown was as vividly marked as his own yet his was quite a patchwork. An inky mask extends from his dark nose up around his eyes, bleeding into slate gray as it reaches his raven hued ears. Yet, it does not stop there, oh no it flames out some, the grey inferno blazing down his spine until it explodes into his tail. The tip of his whipcord adorned in the ashes of those he consumed, blacker than the soot of hell. Each sentry that holds up his torso is armor clad, the same hue of mercury that withers as it reaches his belly into the truest ivory ever seen. Truly ironic that his base is the same holy hue of virgins.

Heat begins to stir within his belly as she flexes, her delectable derriere raised just so for his viewing pleasure and he contemplates taking her right there. Murmurs rise to chaotic shouts, slipping him visions of her pressed against the cool stone. Her whimpers a lullaby as he thrusts, as he rips her wide open from the inside out. She might even harbor his spawn, so that they may burst free from her womb. They may claw their way to breathe as would be their right before they turn upon their incubator. His spawn would nip viciously at her, lap at her blood as it pools betwixt her legs. It was an glorious image, one that set fire to his loins and gave rise to a even darker intent.

Closer he draws, optics never leaving the place where she disappeared beneath the surface, his shadows slipping him another vision. This time she is held underneath, his bulk staring into the windows of her soul as she thrashes. Her body would buck and writhe as it struggles for breath, for survival. He would press her deeper, noting the gleam that passes over vision as she realizes and accepts her fate, her body involuntarily twitching. It would be then that he would lap at the cool liquid that separates his tongue from her face, a final kiss from the reaper. This vision gives rise to goosebumps and what ultimately leads him to reveal himself as she settles upon the earth beside a bird. Yet, that is easier said than done for the shadows cling greedily to his chassis. The darkness unwilling to relinquish him to the light, resolute that he stay a child of hell. His gait is easy, choking on confidence as he all but materializes beside her, his voice dripping with honied venom. ”That you are.” His speech was slipped into the being at just the right time, nipping at the heels of her earlier speech. ”You wouldn’t mind if I took a bite?” Mercury depths take her in before sliding to the bird, his souls roaring to the surface in attempts to rip the avian to shreds. They recognize it’s importance and want to silence it before it jeopardizes everything. Little matter, for their master did not fight by conventional means. None held him, neither angel nor demon. Lucifer himself would shrink from his depravity for unlike those who inhabit the land he had a conscious. He knew what he was doing, knew the ramifications, could understand and fell what his actions begat. The thing that made him different, more horrifying, is that he just did not care and at times rejoiced in it, just as he reveled in his proximity to what could only be a divine being. Mmm what would she taste like upon his tongue?

Just one little nibble.

†Czech
†I have walked this land for 6 years
†Nowhere to rest my head
†Handsome sire of children