The stark blackness of the Cavern veined out into a labyrinth of tunnels that bore down into the unexplored depths of the Earth. Chasms created invisible death traps along the narrow paths, and every so often a bat could be heard somewhere in the bowels of Hell, chittering and screeching as it hunted for insects.
Indigo sclera adjusted to the absence of Light readily, already highly adapted to the shadowed elements from my Reign in Mirovis. The catacombs of caves had always been my fortress, and I had long ago conquered the blackened depths and learned every crack and crevice by heart. Within it's heart had been a cave of Wonders, a grotto created of gemstones in every color and facet, with an open-domed roof that allowed the moon's glow to pierce the penumbra and ignite a rainbow of fiery colors along the cave walls where it reflected off the crystals.
It had been an eden, for myself and my mate and our children.
Such a place no longer exists in Moladian... or if it does it has yet to be discovered. Perhaps it lays buried somewhere in this grotto, waiting for another heathen king to unearth it.
Still, this cavern gave me some semblance of peace. A feeling of the familiar, and as such, I for once allowed my guard to slip from my Being, sprawling out across the cool damp rocks of a ledge over-looking one of the tunnels, that I might entertain myself by watching others come and go.
The cave breaths as fresh air filters in and out of it's distant entrance, and with it is carried that tantalizing aroma. My lids are lax, half-closed as I allowed my draconic mind to drift in and out of conscious thought, and at first I believe it to be a figment of my imagination. That dark primal side of my carnal desires dredging up the perfume to tease my senses and tingle through my veins and stir my loins with erotic fancy. I let the images come as they may, tongue rasping across double-canines as I let my mind run rampant with all the delicious depictions of what I might do if I could have my way with the object of my current fixation.
I am so engrossed with the daydream, that I am only half aware when there is a dark figure within the path, blocking out what little light is able to linger along the cave walls. I was content to remain unnoticed atop my stilagtite throne, content to remain undetected by the passerby so that I may continue to dream my delicious dreams.
The fragrance of the ashen fury is potent now, so tangible I can taste it across the slab of my tongue.
But the spell is broken, by an even lovelier reality, and a crass, exasperated voice looms up from the dark.
I simply cannot get rid of you
Helm is given to rise from it's cradle between my forepaws, skull tilting so that black-light spheres glow eerily in the obsidian space between us. I grin, the expression slithering sanguine across my lips prior to their parting and a graveled chuckle slips past simpered lips. Perhaps she was not so enthused by this chance meeting, but I found great humor and irony in the fact that all I need do is dream of her presence, and she'll manifest before my very eyes.
Her agitation is of no hindrance to my mood in this moment, for hers is not the first feminine ire I've ever coaxed from a woman. Indeed, it is that very fiesty zest that lends to her appeal in my eyes. She is not a woman that would roll over for any man, a creature not to be leashed or subdued. And it is that untameable quality I find so entrancing.
"You mean to say it was not your intention to come seeking my company?" I asked with feigned disappointment.
"Seems you've wandered into my domain this time round, Bellatrix" I added after a moment's pause. I sit up, stretching the stiffness from my muscles, the plains and angles flexing beneath the thick armor of my coat before descending the rocky ledge in a surprisingly elegant leap. I stand before her in the corridor of the stone tomb now, looking so much a part of my element here that I could have passed for some hulking neo-gothic gargoyle carved right out of the stone. orbs search the depths of her visage then, looking deeper past the guarded shields of her eyes, searching for the key to her soul.
"Is my company truly so insufferable?" I am moved to speak, tongue shed of sarcasm and callous humor, offering up a genuine yet unspoken sentiment. "Surely it is better then the company kept with the Angels...."
BASTARD :: SILVER BRINDLE :: 15 YEARS :: NO CITY OF BEDLAM :: 195LBS :: 45" :: EZZY
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