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The Grotto
Disaster has struck!
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IP: 70.182.97.238
Posted on March 3, 2014 at 01:02:17 AM by Kiska
These last several years though, I've deprived myself of such luxuries. At first I was too stricken by grief over the loss of my mate, still harboring some semblance of loyalty to him even though I knew he was assuredly spending time in the company of his Imprint. It was the result I had been wanting after all, since I had decided to erase myself from that picture and allow him to cease his ridiculous obsession, that craving he could never control or reign in- to be close to her. I was an unnecessary asset, and had only been holding him back. And afterwards, it seems I was holding myself back. And then I just didn't give a fuck. I didn't care to see romance blossoming between ardent couples. It sickened me when I detected the aroma of another woman in heat or a male overcome with the flood of testosterone that laid seige to his cologne. But now... now my life was changing again. After it's stagnant halt, a metamorphosis was taking place, and things were gaining momentum again. I suppose that could be the catalyst in all this. The reason that this Season, after so many seasons prior have come and gone without my so much as batting an eye-lash, it was all suddenly hitting me like a brick wall. On more then one occassion already I've caught myself giving a passing male that old 'come hither' look. Painting on a sultry smile that creates a radiant and sensuous cameo that spreads from the petals of my lips. My hips and shoulders add an extra flare to the sashay of their sway, drawing many leering eyes from sex-fiending audiences. My skin itches to be touch, the coil at my core burning an infernous heat that demands satisfaction. I had a void needing filled. A Need that has gone far too long unfulfilled. It makes me uncomfortable. Restless. The nights pass sleepless and the days transpire with some measure of irritability. Tonight is another of just such insomnia. It is insufferable and I cannot deny nor extinguish the flames that burn and simmer beneath the obsidian sheen of my corsets. I do not even bother to attempt sleep in my den. Driven by this ceaseless ache, I am compelled to leave the borders of Taviora, slinking beneath the light of a full winter's moon, a Dark Lotus giving off the most siren-like of fragrances. I don't know what I seek nor what the Night will bring to me, but I know it won't be found in my packlands. I hunt the freelands instead, for a prey I cannot place name to. An irmine ferrets across Enocra Woods as I'm passing through, and I give chase because it is a welcome distraction. I hunt and I slay because the blood staunches some of my appetite and channels some of the stress that makes my muscles quiver and dance beneath the languid silk of my flesh. I carry the small carcass of the weasel, it's limp body dangling in my jaws as I glide fluidly through the night. I am a Wraith, a massive creature that outmatches almost any within Moladian, and yet I am a picture of lethal grace, hypnotic poise. I flow across the snow, locomotion gyrating like a belly-dancer's exotic choreography. That's when I spy the opening in the face of the Crags. I'd heard about the Caverns that had been unveiled during the last Earth Quake that had shook the land. Apparantly the seismic activity had given way and revealed a new network of Caverns that burrowed deep into the Earth's Crust. This particular Cave mouth was massive, an arch worthy of a cathedral, it's many stalagmites dripping down like stony fangs and chipped teeth. It was alluring in it's necromantic facade. I feel that ball of frustrating Need clawing at my insides, pulsing with renewed vigor, and I realize suddenly, it is because there is a figure, veiled in shadow standing in the lee of the cavern entrance. Harlequin eyes sparkle even as they hone in on the shrouded figure, and I set my prize on the ground between my paws. "Who lurks with me on this night...?" I ask, though it is not so much as a demand as a rather succubine invitation... 17 years of Sin - Alias is My Alias - Haunted By Picture (c) wolf250 :: Wolf Depicted (c) Darcia |
Replies:
- DON'T LET THE WOLF INTO YOUR BED - By ARTiMUS March 6, 2014 at 07:22:30 PM
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