Susil Crags

Disaster has struck!
The Crags are a series of rocky formations with small caves and crevices throughout. Many of the lower-lying areas of the Crags have been flooded, however, with water pouring in from the Northern stretches of Moladion. Some paths have been completely submerged, and some are nothing more than a few rocky peaks sticking out of the water. The water is fairly slow moving but begins to pick speed up towards the Grotto, becoming a series of intense rapids and waterfalls as it nears the Grotto's entrance.

The area itself is still traversible. However, it can be risky. Large amounts of debris can enter the waterway, creating bridges at times but also creating dams that break and cause ocassional flash-flooding. Be careful, travelers! One wrong step and you could end up finding out where the water goes.

Note: Susil Crags will return to normal once 25 posts have been completed (or at Staff discretion). During this time, new threads will receive a 'Surprise','Disaster', and prizes.

Return to Lunar Children

Do not go gentle into that good night

This overwhelming urge is not entirely uncommon for Blackthorne and yet the intensity is greater than ever before. A driving need to claim, to dominate, and almost to protect seems to push him to the limits as he attempts to slam forward and tries to unsuccessfully knock her down. There is defiance in her bright eyes, in the white mohawk that seems a match for his silver cowlick backed by brilliant obsidian. They are two halves of an imperfect whole but in this moment it is a struggle not to consume her half. There is grace in the sleekness of his movements mirrored by the power of her own, both warriors in their own right, and she refuses to balk or to back down. It is infuriating and titillating, making his blood sing at their closeness. Her scent is heady and powerful and saliva pools in his mouth as he darts forward.

She flashes fangs and strikes back, her own compact body pressing into his. He is indeed smaller but no less strong for he has focused his whole life into fighting and strength. His muscles ripple as he presses back, paws digging into stone and the sound of claws scraping barely heard above the ruckus of the heavens. A few inches are given but now they meet in a press of bodies and warning growls, his flashing charcoal and silver eyes fastening upon hers. Her movement jostles him until their crowns seem to slam together, noses brushing down opposing muzzles, and he takes the opportunity to scrape his teeth against the tender flesh. Not in an aggressive maneuver but possessive, laying his scent against hers and also consuming hers, inhaling deep.

She is demanding and fierce and he exalts in the tenor of her voice while his eyes flash in commanding defiance. His body remains frozen, unwilling to obey whatever she commands. He hates authority and taking orders and yet he secretly finds he likes the way she stands against him. She is his, after all, and what would he want with a weak soul? "No," he says simply, smooth vocals strong and clear. "Why do you fight this?" There is anger in the thrum of his voice but also a pleased sound. She could shove, bite, and do whatever she wished to try (with equal repercussions) but until he was damn good and ready Blackthorne would not be leaving.


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