Misty Mountain is opposite of Rainbow Cliff. Mists hover year-round at this high altitude, mistaken by some to be thin clouds. Thin layers of snow cover the mountain, making some areas slippery and hazardous.
Some think it romantic, a place to bring their mates, while others come to play and romp. However, all must agree that there is some level of mystery and spookiness hovering about with the mists...
IP: 38.110.0.7
Posted on February 15, 2018 at 06:05:10 PM by Diosa
a vexatious kiss
Alive. For the first time in forever there resembled some sort of life within her eyes. Those luminescent jewels betrayed the lack of essence that inhabited the heiress of Caidir Olc; or the fact that her bodice was hardly sustained by the slow throb of a dying heart that was strung up in the cavity of her chest. It was too easy to look into the effulgent pools of sanguine fluid and assume that somewhere in that light there was an entity. And maybe to some extent this was true, there was something sentient in there, but it was no guarantee that what resided in there was humane. There was no vampire untainted by their delusions; whatever they may be. No one escaped their own psychosis, not even the most pure of heart. Sometimes it was the most pure, who ended in corruption. And the more her thoughts wandered in this direction, this twisted logic, taking her deeper and deeper into the crevices of her mind, she worried that she could not escape fate. For it seemed, that destiny had it written in her future to become that replicated image of a walking nightmare as the future Vampire Queen. A label so tainted and wreathed in darkness, blood, and psychotic tendencies that it seemed nearly impossible to make her own character devoid of the connotation it carried. So why was she so hell bent on trying to? Diosa’s chest heaved with the exertion she had just forced her body through, and she felt the slight tears in her muscles from pushing them so far beyond their boundaries. It was not that she was not fit, but she was not the picturesque image of a warrioress. She was lithe and finely built, with a layer of musculature that betrayed her weakness to the world for she was not finished in development. She laughed incredulously at herself; she had a lot to work on before she fledged into adulthood. Those petite shoulders would broaden only a tab bit more and that lithe figurine would fill in with lean musculature giving her the curves of a woman, but more taut and defined. And underneath it all would be hidden the personas of her identity crisis. No clear definition existed between them any longer, that fine line of good and evil had dissipated into the boggish depths of Caidir Olc. Swallowed whole by the alligators of her mind, her emotions and characters to switch on a dime to match the situation. The cocoa painted hellion felt so conflicted and two-face, she wondered who she truly was any longer. That teenage angst was amplified by her heightened emotions and the crushing weight that rested across her shoulders. Tonight though she needed to feel freedom, but she needed company also. And who better than the brute whose body and blood she had laid claim to? Rogan was Diosa’s first creation. And so it seemed fitting that she shared her night with him, and she knew that it would not be long before he came beckoning to her call. And she was answered dutifully by the scrape of claws against stone, and the subtle lambent glow that his rubies cast across the clinging snow at her paws. Needed a break from your kingdom, princess? A soft tumbling laughter escaped her mouth, girlish and small in that vast open space. There is only so much of that suffocating paradise I can handle, Rogan. Only so much of the screeching calls of my crows, on occasion I find it liberating to look across the land like I am a mortal loner exploring these lands, but you would know that feeling wouldn’t you, Rogan? Diosa’s gaze flicked downwards to the hooded figure, their luminescent rubies locking together. A crooked smile, flashed the smallest inkling of her extended ivories. She showed no foul intent, it seemed a genuine expression. The heiress leapt down from her position, landing with feline grace next to her soldier, she peered curiously at him. She could see the writhing hunger written in his orbs, the inconstant anger and restless scanning of the terra. Do you not understand what it means to be a vampire, Rogan? You can no longer feast on the flesh of prey… You must satiate that rooted hunger with the precious life of the living. She stared curiously at him, wondering how it seemed so lost on him. Had he not stumbled across mortals, heard the soft thump of their hearts in his ears, felt the rising craze that sound seemed to draw out of their species? Diosa stood and crept that small distance to Rogan, Stay. She commanded him softly with that singular word, before she stood and placed both forepaws on his shoulders. Her claws pressed lightly against the soft flesh of his neck and her bodice shimmied closer against his dorsum. Her cool nares pressed into the base of his ear before tracing a soft line down his jaw. Her fangs lengthened, in her heightened state, their tips dragging ever so lightly against his skin. Don’t you remember when I first kissed you? She whispered alluringly into his ear, Now it is you that must bestow that gift upon another to maintain your life. Diosa’s tongue swept across the blood mark. Mark them as I did you. a bittersweet abyss
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Replies:
- VICTORY! - By ROGAN April 13, 2018 at 01:22:49 PM
Lullaby of the Crucified - By Diosa June 13, 2018 at 01:25:55 AM
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