Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Printable Version

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Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 03-30-2015



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<sub>In the pile, there was no sense of judgement. No awkwardness. No questions to ask among pack and pride when her bruises were showing across the expanse of her alabaster cheek. One eye was swollen, the other a bit less damaged, though the cornea stung as remnants of sand were feverishly blinked away. Injured grey hues gleamed dimly beneath the light leaking through the half cracked balcony window. The cling of cold was bitter, pouring through from the winter's washed streets like some sort of curse hoping to claim Cheswick's attention through her fatigued haze. It wouldn't, or perhaps couldn't, as she needn't acknowledge what was already known. The cold could be biting, and encompassing, and cruel- but the body among the tattered bedding was far more tempting to linger over. Predatory in her assessment, the creature stripped aged layers of winter wear off, casting them away as her gaunt physique craned over Braelin's fetal position beneath an indistinguishable pelt.

"Do you sleep?"

"No," Braelin began softly, his body remaining where it was, free of movement for the time being. "But I could try."

"Hm." Turning away again to kick free holey socked feet from weather combat boots, the Garou tucked them below the untouched bed hogging the other side of their room before slinking back to the pile. It consisted of torn linens; of ripped sheets and bedding, of furs and scraps and stray feathers. A hodge podge no Wendigo could live without, though hers was relatively groomed. No awkward bones were lodged in the gnarled driftwood frame, nor has there ever been enough blood spilled in the pile to stain the current decor. In many ways, this was her last real escape from the outside world, and in such, she took great pride in preserving the location for herself, and for her companion. They were not lovers, but were there a term more intimate than 'friend', the pair would likely fit the criteria. Cheswick didn't even think of her scarred body when she was nude, instead drawing a small circle through the air between herself and where the Golem lay.

"It's been many moons." Her other hand rose to rake roughly through her length of silver locks, nails pressed to her scalp as though an itch was being tended to. "Too many." Her frame was too thin, her skin taut across her broad rib cage so most of the ribs could be counted in their not-so-neat row. Bones had been broken in the past, dislodged and dislocated. Some were cracked and other were entirely shattered. Cheswick healed like many of her kind did, and though it was a process akin to human restoration, the time frame was greatly shortened. In days, she could be back to her old way, roving the unbeaten paths while searching for something that always seemed just out of her reach. Sometimes she would forget to eat in her travels, though often, she simply refused to do so. There were better things to accomplish; more to pursue with that unquenchable thirst for knowledge providing enough leverage to keep her going. A woman with many flaws, her curiosity was one of the most demanding. It took her from the safety of the pile for weeks and weeks, and just when the creature dragged her sore limbs back from the journey, something else would arise to the challenge of capturing her interests.

Nothing about Cheswick's routine was fair to Braelin. He knew this, and she knew this, though neither had the heart to speak of such things until the flames were fanned. It wasn't in either of their nature's to cause problems for one another.</sub>



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Qan’gaax - Title for thread

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Her visitor had vocalized such a unique scream, Angeveve found herself listening intently as though such wailing despair deserved nothing less than her utmost attention. A fine shriek with pitch she might describe as decadent were it not to end in mewling sobs. Wracking and weak, these pathetic chords stifled the overall composition of his pain, and within an inch of his life, Veve brought upon lashing and blunt force blows until he sang so mellifluous and clear that she knew no other sound. It was in his death that she found absolution; perhaps even closure regarding what heights her brutality reached.

Recollections such as these made time pass quickly. Meager attempts to alleviate her boredom.

In present company, these were idle thoughts of a day dreaming girl. Hardly fit for the boardroom congested with stratagems and financial bickering. Blinking to open her unappreciative eyelids, Angeveve's attention moved over those in present company. Circulating from the older shareholders to their younger counterparts, one point seemed as easy to get across as the chime of a bell on a quiet evening. Not a soul in sight was deprived of material wealth. Here sat the finest breed Metropolis was fortunate lucky enough to host, in their Giovinnici and Graucivino. Hand tailored suits, ties spun by hand, shoes polished to immaculate perfection. There was enough burdensome argot in their boardroom alone that Angeveve was certain they could fund augments for a family of four through thread count alone.

"-But managing the system authorizations for the department isn't guesswork, and there's clearly been a breach."

So the big wigs told themselves, though the more likely culprit was a Vesper employee lower on the totem pole than their collective, hooking for additional credits from outside sources. Angeveve kept her comments to herself as discussion moved to possible outcomes and how IT could handle further intrusions. Data jackers were a dime a dozen, or so they said. Always with what 'they said', because Vesper didn't know. As their elders sat portly and confused, piecing together what bright and youthful associates were trying to acknowledge, that much was obvious. Most of the Vesper figureheads knew little of the technology to their business, or the practices which maintained said business. All they knew was how to count their share of the money, and more noticeably, how to spend it frivolously.

On suits that didn't fit their stout figures properly. On shoes specially made to fit thick, gluttonous hooves. On their trophy wives who fucked their sponsored athletes. The list was retentive, but Angeveve had time to mentally recount several key expenses.

---

Ziggy held the note in hand, a splash of contempt playing her features. "It's a ransom note?!"

Errol had chores to cover (despite the nature of the building and its inherent capability to clean itself), so she washed dishes while musing, "What does that even mean? Like, okay- I get the idea of ransom, sure. I just don't get why anyone would steal your lucky zippo. Like, no offense, but it looked like any other generic zippo, yeah? Why go to the trouble of ransoming it? Most people'd just get a new zippo."

Shaking her bubblegum locks animatedly, Ziggy drew her index finger through the air in accusation while her other hand crumpled the letter. "It was special! It was one ov a fuckin' kind, genuine article! I've had that goddamn lighter for close to-" She paused, fingers wiggling at her side, "Goin' on thirty years! I stole it from Elvis himself, Er! It's a priceless heirloom!"

Errol made a face and paused her dishwashing to look at her friend. "Pretty sure Elvis has been dead longer than thirty years-"

"-That's what they fuckin' want you to think, alright? Look, take it with a grain ov salt if ya want, but you're talkin' to a professional necromancer, yeah? I'm the expert, you're a media digesting sheep." At all of 5' tall, Ziggy stuck out like a sore thumb. Dressed in a stark white tuxedo with matching black and white wingtips, her spill of messy pink curls was cut short so they fit comfortably beneath her white fedora. No one really knew how old Ziggy was, but if her looks were the only indication to go off of, she couldn't have been older than 21. Baby faced and blue-eyed, her tiny exterior was just as misleading as her accent was. Boston? New York? East end? Westside?

"Well, fuck. I'm not sure what to tell you. Like, uh... You could chase whoever took it?" Despite offering options, Errol was grinning like a lunatic, truly unable to squash how silly she found this situation to be. A missing zippo, a ransom note, and now-

"It was a fuckin' Leprechaun, Er. I know those two-timing sonsovbitches well enough to know I got punked for Patty's day." Like a ball of anger and energy, Ziggy shook while reddening, her lividity as impossible as the situation. "But I'm gonna show 'em this time, Er- Gonna fuckin' show 'em who fuckin' rules downtown!"

---

Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 04-21-2015


There was something about the dunes that fed a strange hunger deep in her gut. Like a reflective field of tantalizing treats, Pfifer combed the valleys and trekked the arcs of desert wastes, expecting nothing, yet coming to find a plethora of secrets. She learned of the stars, of the buried cities, and mostly, of the darkness the sand kept hidden beneath its wind swept surface. Undiscovered malignancy left an imprint on her tongue as quickly as the grit of granulated earth did. Azure orbs were ever watchful as her travels branched farther from the beaten path; her supplies a minor concern when truth seemed at arm's length.

Worlds burned and lives were lost, yet Pfifer was a woman consumed by her own misery.

Concerns circulated around those that had wronged her, and how, no matter the costs, she could right said wrongs. Hers was the tale of a poor little rich girl, but when one lives the fairy tale, they see beyond simple taglines. Poor little rich girl, married to a wealthy suitor as a means to further the family's standing in the eyes of Telaran society. Perhaps another would have fit into this blessed life of luxury better than the Elf. She did little more than ignore the matter completely until there was nothing more to be done, save let the brute have what his loins so desired. Even the memory of his flesh burned brightly in her mind, singeing away at what remained of her complacency and virtue. One could find reason to be virtuous when they were unscathed, but after the first assault, Pfifer was a woman scorned.

Pfifer refused to be the victim again. There was nothing to do but run away - and far she went. So far, in fact, that the faction banners changed from blue to red, and the skin tones darkened from years beneath a watchful sun. Shimmersand was no friend to the mage, but she would make it her home for as long as it suited her needs. Fortune Shore offered less in the way of assistance than it did rumors, but to every rumor, there was a fraction of truth compacted. Without enough coin to buy a guide, Pfifer had made the walk into Firesand desert with little more than what she could steal - and even those rations started to dwindle as the days progressed.

Perhaps the woman would have died in those scorching sands if it were not for a misstep on her part; purely accidental. A small bout of luck.

The fall dropped her into a massive cavern, and she was left among a savage nest of bones that bore sign of weathered souls the desert had done away with. The less fortunate remains of Eth tribes too adventurous for their own good. Scrambling among the filth, the Elf wailed loudly and groped for a means to return to her feet. As she ran fingers along muck slick walls, something attached a metal hold over her left arm and yanked her upwards, leaving Pfifer to dangle precariously over the horrors of the pit. If asked, she remembered screaming, but the rest was a blur. A bag over her head, shouting in a dialect other than common tongue, and her body bumping roughly over the sun-soaked hills of Telara's hottest location.

By the time the marauders ceased for the evening, her torso and limbs missed great patches of skin from the journey, rubbed raw and blistered.

But they soon fed her, uncovering her face to further examine their prize.

Considering how terrible the journey to their camp on the far side of Firesand had been, the destination was paradise comparatively. A large bullish male with an eye missing was her doctor, and by his calloused (mostly intact) hands, she would be slathered in medicinal herbs and bandaged. Robes she had worn were lost in the efforts of her captors, though they didn't take advantage of her state. If anything, she was pampered by their interest in remedying her condition. Nothing said made sense to the woman, their guttural language more than a hazy, dehydrated mind could manage comprehending-- but they knew what she was, and they knew something she didn't.

Their home was a hotbed for magical energy.

(wip)

---

Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 06-15-2015




"Are you gonna eat that?" Kade asked, eyeing the partially consumed meal with growing interest while her companion ate. "I mean, if ye are, I won't try and snag it."

"The bacon?"

"Yeah, you know it.." She murmured with a coy smirk, a hand creeping closer to the contents of Vale's plate. "So, yeah? Nah? What?"

Vale sucked his teeth before shrugging. "What's in it fer me?"

"Ass wiggling." Kade retorted quickly, fingers walking their way across the table at a slow pace. "Lots ov ass wiggling."

"Ain' like I need ta give ya bacon fer that." The Mathosian said with his mouth full, his attention focused below towards breakfast. Her pouting would have no effect on him.

"But Vaaaaaale-" She whined with a nasally complaint, legs beneath the table stretched so bare feet could settle between his spread thighs. "I want it, and if ye really love me, ye'll give me it!"

"Love ya?"

"Well, ye. Love me."

Vale's smirk was something she often caught herself focusing on, though try as she might, she couldn't copy it. Only admire it while making her own attempts at a similar expression. Hers was cute, sure, but his? A whole new level of mischief she found herself falling for. "Is bacon the way ta show my love then?"

"I mean, in a way, it's got a certain romantic value... right? Like, I dunno. If we were shipwrecked, and we only had one piece between us, ye could give me it and be like, 'Babe, I love ya, so dun' die' or whatever." Kade paused to purse her lips, nibbling at the bottom one while her wayward hand finally stopped it's trip. "Or maybe I'd give ya the piece for the same reason."

"Kade, ye know well enough I'd give ya the last piece." He began as said bacon rose from the plate to be jiggled her way. Teasing her with the strip, he continued. "But you are no romantic if you think I'd only value ya at bacon level."

"Right-" She started while a hand rose to try and steal the bacon. "Not romantic at all. Bad at it, I reckon. Bad at tryin' ta fake it, honestly."

"Ye don' have ta fake it though. Not with me."

Kadence found herself silenced, the bacon suddenly not as important in the grand scheme of things as she had once implied it to be. Her oceanic hues lowered to the table while answers were debated over. What to say, and how to say it. Finally, she shrugged. "Maybe I won't then."

Vale set the piece of bacon onto Kade's otherwise empty plate. "Good... Now eat that fuckin' bacon."

Doing as she was told, her smile was hidden behind the meat product. "Roger. Will eat the fuckin' bacon."

"Atta girl."
[/sub]

---

Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 06-30-2015



"A cactus?"

Vale yelped loudly as a particularly large barb was yanked from the backside of his thigh, but Kade had no interest in the show. Her eyes were studying his features, searching the chisel and the grain for something more than pain. "How didja even fall?"

"Tripped ova my own two feet- Fer gods sake, Kade, could'ja be a bit easier on the pins?!" Vale ground his teeth and tensed his mostly bare body across her lap, the tweezers still plucking at an almost automated rhythm. "I ain' sure yer doin' me any help with yer butcherin'.

Kade snorted, which wasn't at all ladylike, but worked to make her all the more adorable to Vale. He had grown to love those snorts, and her smirks, and the way his girl always wanted to be right, even when being wrong wasn't a crime. He didn't like to argue anyway. He certainly didn't want her to blow up on him, but her fiery temper wasn't a concern, and her happiness was- sacrifices were a constant reminder that he was committing, even if he didn't say it aloud. He wasn't shy about how he felt, but he was more humble than most.

Sometimes, it was better things be left unsaid.

"Gonna cry about it?" She asked teasingly when her hands moved away, tweezers soon replaced by digits covered in salve. Kneading against the tiny pricks to his skin, Kade clicked her tongue knowingly. "I hear ya might want ta look out fer Cactus or whatever next time yer stumblin' drunk. Where'd ya go? Back ta the Gorge?"

"Aye, for a bit. Needed ta see what was goin' on there."

"Reckon it was nothin' good." Murmuring as she finished, Kade bent to lower to the side so her body craned over his, and issued a small kiss to the crown of his head. "Missed ya when ye were gone."

"Aye, dun' doubt it. Without me around, who'd ye get ta open jars and carry heavy shit fer ya?" Tilting his features, he offered a grin before strong arms heaved himself back up. Flopped over onto the bed next to Kade, the Mathosian asked, "Didja do anything excitin' while I was gone?"

Without prompting, Kade sprawled beside her partner and shrugged gently, her eyes still drawn to Vale's expression like moths surrounding a well maintained flame. "I killed a rat tha size of yer leg."

"Where? Here?" Vale glanced around their adobe home quickly, his brow furrowing. Outside, ocean waves lapped at the shore a mere stone's throw from the bedroom balcony. Hardly decadent, there was salt and surf at their disposal, and gull cries filled the silence so there was never static complacency. His vision returned to Kade after the scan. "Betta' not have been here. I'm not gonna let ya live in a fuckin' rat nest."

"Nah." With an arm draped over her features, the other was free to wave off Vale's concern. "Was over in the Glade. Some guy came screamin' down tha street, talkin' about demon rats- figured I wanted ta see it fer myself. Sure as shit, rat as big as a dog. Bigger than any goddamn rat I wanted ta see, that's fer sure. Killed it so goddamn fast, it didn' have time ta try an' run..." Pausing, Kade released a tired sigh. "But ya know what they say about curiosity an' such."

"That it kills cats?"

"...No, rats. It kills tha rat."

Vale blinked several times before his brow cinched in the middle. "Kade, it's curiosity killed tha cat. Babe, how do ye not know that?"

"No, it's fuckin' rat. When were cats ever goddamn curious, Vale? Fuckin'... Rats are tha ones always pokin' about, gettin' inta people's shit. Cats don' fuckin' care about nothin' but sleepin' an' eatin'." Kade didn't seem to be joking as she explained this, and to be fair, Vale could understand where she was coming from with her logic. Part of him wanted to keep arguing, but inevitably, Kade shot up from the bed to fix her positioning before slipping an arm and a leg over the male's body. She spooned his side while she spoke, sleepy and silly and ultimately done with the matter. "Anyway, was a big fuckin' rat."

Tucking his arm beneath her head to hug her inwards, Vale chuckled under his breath before commenting, "Aye, sounds like it. Big rat. Good ye killed it fer that guy, too."

"Well, someone's gotta keep that shit hole pieced together, and I dun' got much faith in the patrons." She kissed his bare shoulder before humming against the flesh. "Just happy ta be home."

"With me?" Vale asked as his lids closed, his face shifting so it could be buried in her hair.

"Aye. Only with you so long as there ain' no curious rats about."[/sub]

---

Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 07-30-2015




Fingers branched across plush cheeks, kneading the flesh as the spread gave way for Vale's cock to run teasingly between them. The arch of the body beneath him signaled Kade's arousal, her voice a husky purr as an inquiry was issued quietly through the dark of their bedroom.

"Mm, what're ye doin'?"

Vale only grinned, the woman he prowled over laying stomach to the mattress, with her rear parted by sprawled legs. A tease she was; both were well aware of what happened to teases. One hand firm around his cock, the Mathosian dragged the length aching slow against the crease of her ass, following the fold until his engorged head was beneath her rising movements. A reverse against her netherlips was next, though he never let himself travel far from his goals. Finally, coming to pause, Vale asked with a growl, "Which hole?"

"Oh, I got a choice then, eh?"

"Only 'cause yer such a good girl."

"Mm, reckon I've been real good..." Kade said as her body rose onto elbows and knees, her ass wiggling towards the other blonde. Pristine features wore a smirk that wouldn't quit as she asked, "So yer not punishin' me?"

"Keep talkin', an' I might." Vale remarked as his free hand reared back before issuing an audible slap across the meat of her ass cheek. In return, Kade gasped, practically recoiling from her propped position of sensual gyrations. "So, which hole?"

Dark lashes fluttered as sleepy hues tried to adjust to the lighting, seeking the male in the darkness. With his figure spotted behind her, upright and on his knees, she licked her lips before turning away towards the pillows. "Ya know what I want."

Another spanking was administered, drawing a hiss from Kadence. "Alright, alright- fuck my ass, Vale. Gods, yer so fuckin'-" But before the woman could finish the thought, Vale collected a glob of saliva to rub across the tip of his member. Clean strokes lubricated the shaft, pumps that could be made out clearly so nothing was left entirely to the imagination. With one set of digits anchoring at the High Elf's hip, the other set guided his sex back between those plump cheeks.

"Fuckin' Princess, ya are." He bent over to press a trail of kisses along her spine before returning to a more upright stance. The head of his cock shoved roughly through the tight barrier of ringed muscles. "My-" An inch earned a moan from Kade. "Princess." The rest earned a panted cry, leaving the woman quivering as Vale's girth filled the inside of her needy cavity. Muscles wrapped and hugged desperately to mold around the invading sex, leaving the Mathosian based with meaty cheeks spread against his groin.

And as he began to recoil, the act was a short lived relief as he thrust back into that tight orifice. "Aren't 'cha?"

With a meek whimper, Kade admitted through her passive sounds, "Y-yes."

Vale picked up the pace, soon finding a suitable rhythm to follow so every driving plunge kept his cock encompassed in that always expected tightness. The small spasms and shifts of ligature stole a deep groan from the male. "An' who owns ye?"

"Y-you do-" Kade breathed before Vale's free hand snaked around to fit between parted thighs, his spit slick digits immediately met by already wet lips. The pads of his fingers trailed against the juices, touching the outline of her cunt like he had never felt it before. An almost invasive process, but one that he regularly enjoyed indulging in, even if it left the Elf writhing beneath the inspection. Finally, he sunk between her folds to draw lazy circles around her clit. A smirk plastered itself over his portrait.

"Of course I do."[/sub]

---

Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 08-07-2015



She never appreciated the taste of blood. According to Gallows, it was an acquired taste; Kade didn't necessarily agree. In her time wiggling through the circuit, she had swallowed gallons of it from busted lips and bitten inner cheeks, but not once had she approved of the copper undertones. The memories of memories of blood made her stomach churn, so in present situation, the grimace she wore was expected. Almost too natural given the context.

Kade spit a spray of crimson over the segment of ruined Brevanic wall she perched on, watchful blue hues in search of something resembling a signal. Reavers didn't charge in with the team, but waited in the wings, and though this took much of the excitement out of a combat based profession, Kade considered ego battery a step up from her body receiving equivalent abuse. One hand rose so a finger could slip between blood stained lips, intent to prod each of her teeth to ensure none had been knocked loose. Countless war fronts won, and the Elf had yet lost a tooth; that was true victory. At the end of the day, Kadence Rhodion would traipse around the winner's circle with an almost perfect smile plastered over her features, and there wasn't a soul out there who could do shit about it.

She spit again before wiping her lips with the back of her hand. "We gon' move?"

"Dunno."

"Reckon yer not tha person ta ask, but I gisst askin' was worth a shot."

"Kade, you never shut up."

Licking her lips, the woman flickered her vision over towards the Kelari at her side. "I fuckin' do, but ain' shit happenin' righ' now. Why'd ye need me ta shut up?" Her tongue fumbled with the words, too busy poking at the damaged tissue of her inner lip. "Not like I ask'ta be here with ye, ov all people I know. Reckon ye could've picked a better place ta stand than with me here."

Frowning, the Mage motioned to his attire with a sweep of dusk toned hands, bare of protection. "I'm in robes."

Blinking a few times as she followed the darker figures train of thought, Kade clicked her swollen tongue lightly before asking, "An' what ov it?"

"I don't belong on the front lines if I'm wearing nothing for protection."

Kade looked down at her own gear, a bikini-esque ensemble barely enough material to cover more than what a set of lingerie articles might. There was no mystery surrounding the Elf's buxom figure. Even so, there was a great deal of appeal towards her appearance and these choices in costuming, so her sponsor had pushed this fashion direction as opposed to one with practical garb fit for genuine battles. Warfronts were not real. That was the first thing one was expected to accept concerning this line of work.

Joining up as a fighter for the factions was little more than agreeing to being part of a showcase. A cookie cutter way for Ascended to be put on display without becoming test subjects. How better to show the mortal population there was nothing to fear than by pitting Ascended fighters against one another for entertainment purposes? Injuries were a non-issue, and deaths only boosted ratings. Fighters like Kade catered to a specific demographic, just like rail thin Kelari mage's had their pocket of fans somewhere, rooting for them to Dominator. Sheepish little Kelari always wanted to be the dom in the fray, but that was a joke she had long since gotten tired of hearing.

Like rogues, and their penchant for doing it from behind.

"Yer overdressed." Kade finally mused with a smile, claret stains branching from her upper gum line. "Figure yer a bigger target in yer dress than I am in mah underwear."

"Is that what you call that outfit? Even my boxers use more fabric than your 'armor'." The Kelari kept his quotation marks wagging in the air for a moment before letting his hands drop back to his sides. "Did your sponsor tell you to suck their dicks while you're flashing your tits at them?"

Kade's eyes narrowed slightly, though her tone remained steady. Friendly, in some ways, despite the slight made at her expense. "Ye sure 'ave a pretty mouth. Shame ye dunno how ta use it properly."

"Isn't the time nor the place." The mage remarked with growing seriousness.

"Not time ta talk about all tha dicks ye've sucked? Ah, I always got time ta hear about what'cha got caught doin' ta Errick-"

"No, no- Just, stop." The Kelari straightened stiffly before issuing a clear warning of, "We don't talk about that, Kade. Not now, not ever. What you saw wasn't... Anything. There was nothing going on between us there-"

"Oh, fuckin' bullshit there wasn't, Nyym. Ye had a fuckin' Bahmi's cock crammed down yer throat like ye thought ye could use him like a goddamn snorkel." Kade puffed out her cheeks exaggeratedly before adding loudly, "An' ye brought up my goddamn outfit, ye prick!"

The mage groaned, bringing a palm to his features as sculpted ebony cheeks turned a shade of blackberry purple. "Just stop, Kade."

"Righ', righ'- I can stop, aye. Only fair tha'cha see my point though. Ye wear yer dress and suck dicks in tha locker room, an' I wear a shoe string thong, an' haven' seen a dick ta suck in..." Kade counted the fingers on one hand while her eyes wandered the area. "Mm, dunno. Last time I saw Vale, I reckon."

Nyym shifted uneasily before trying to change the subject by asking, "Are you two still engaged?"

"Ye, still engaged. Dun' like ta call it that though... Just sounds like we're waitin', but ain't nothin' ta change. We live together, and he sees me wake up daily, so it ain' like it's gonna do nothin' but... Well, I dunno. Guess it's a fancier way ov sayin' we're fuckin'." A nimble tongue ran flat over the fronts of her incisors to ensure the blood was gone before she flashed another smile the mage's way. "Why ye ask?"

"Small talk."

"Oh, then yer lookin' tha wrong way. If we're talkin' abou' Vale, it's big talk." Kade nodded slowly, assuring Nyym as her hands made an indication of what she meant, spread and held vertical as measurements were made. "Like, his cock-"

"NO! No, Kade, please don't start this conversation again-"

"IS SO MASSIVE THAT YE'D THINK HE WAS PART BAHMI AN' I-"

"KADE! I SAID STOP TALKING ABOUT IT! WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?!"

"MY PROBLEM IS YE GOT CAUGHT SUCKIN' DICKS AN' YE GOT THA NERVE TA TALK ABOUT MY GODDAMN OUTFIT, YE MAGIC SPITTING JIZZ BUCKET!"

Nyym made a sharp gasp, a hand placed palm flat to his chest as he backed away from Kade. "How dare you!"

Stepping away from the male, the High Elf clapped her hands together and offered loudly while turning away, "But ye can wear yer dress all ye like. Ain' like I'm lookin' ta see ya in a thong." Kade wiggled her butt playfully before sashaying through the mountain corridor that fed into Karthan Ridge, oblivious to the string of profanity Nyym spewed in her wake.

At least the taste of blood was finally gone.
[/sub]

---

Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 08-26-2015



Drunk, Kade announced at the top of her lungs, "An' ye can fuck righ' off, ye fuckin' piece ov shit, ass grabbin' motherfuckin'-" before familiar lips kissed her quiet. She was messier drunk, her tongue adventurous and her hands seeking to rip off Vale's shirt by way of incessant tugging. Despite many attempts, his shirt remained intact, though hers draped loosely around her shoulders as if threatening to reveal too much to prying eyes of nearby patrons.

"Babe," she said through groping and tasting, "What 'er ye doin'? Where we goin'? I was jus' try'n ta, jus'... Babe, dun' ignore me. BABE!" As she protested, Vale shielded her from the crowd in the Quill, his features shooting Davek an apologetic plea that lasted only long enough to be caught by the bartender. Careful steps sent them backwards, the woman babbling the whole way towards the door.

By the time the duo made their stumble out of the tavern, Kade had managed to break free from Vale, which meant she was prancing away with a jovial cackle. "Fuckin' Babe, c'mere now. BABE C'MERE-" Her giggles were easy to track, even when her scantily clad figure traipsed out of sight.

Vale had a perma-smirk plastered over his equally drunk features, though he wasn't nearly as peppy as his companion. "Oi!" He called out after the other blonde, "Dun' get lost on me, Kadence!"

He only used her full name when he was angry, or looking to fuck her senseless.

Even when hammered, Kade was well aware of the state of her beau. As Vale turned to follow her footsteps through the narrow alley behind the Blunted Quill, Kade peeked out from the shadows to push the larger figure into the nearby wall. There, he was met with a feverish barrage of kisses, all equally invasive and demanding, blocking his airflow as well as hers before Kade managed to state, "I'm gonna be so good ta ye t'night, Vale."

And just like that, Kade sank to her bare knees on the ground before Vale, her hands fixated on undoing the scavenger's belt. Vale did his best to assist, large hands fumbling only long enough to be batted away by Kade. "No- I fuckin' got it!" She slurred before a new giggle fit hit, her cheek affectionately nuzzling Vale's groin through the barrier of his slacks.

The metal chimed and clicked until it was finally unbuckled, allowing the Elf to move on to his button, and then the zipper, which made more noise than anyone nearby needed in order to piece together the two were up to no good behind the local dive bar. Kade yanked down the pants like she was saving his life by removing the article of clothing, her mind commending her for the efforts while her words spilling like ink blots on a blank page. "See, ye thought I ran off on ye, but I didn'." When Kade nodded then, her forehead brushed Vale's erection like it wasn't even there. "Nah, I jus' had ta scare ye because 'm scary sometimes."

"Ain' eva scary ta me, Princess." Vale mused, his hips moving eagerly as one of the woman's hands wrapped around his exposed shaft. Fingers traced the veins, her lips seeking the appendage in the dark of the passageway. "What're ye gonna do, huh?"

"Gonna suck ye off." Kade said bluntly before unceremoniously throating Vale's length. Her features sank towards his base, her throat tight when the head of his member met the back of her mouth. Kade gagged, her eyes blinking a few times in protest to tears forming on her lashes. The Elf pulled away to expel a cough afterwards, her free hand raised to indicate he listen as she explained, "Okay, this time, I'mma suck yer fuckin'-"

Already ahead of Kade, Vale smeared the spit soaked tip of his cock against her lips to silence her, his voice remaining a soft usher through the darkness. "Jus' open yer mouth then."

Flickering her lashes, Kade obediently opened her mouth, and Vale took the opportunity presented to shove his length back down the woman's throat. She gagged again, slobbering over his cock with a small sputter, but Vale ensured she couldn't get away this time around. No, this time he held the back of her head with fingers tangled in golden locks so with each quiver of vocals made against the tip, he could ride the reverberation even as her hands grasped desperately at his thighs. Vale fucked Kade's throat until he shot his full load into the back of her mouth, and the gasping, teary eyed woman servicing him sucked the last of his seed free just to make him squirm.

He didn't mind when she did; plump lips sealed over his throbbing cock. That was his territory. All of Kade was his territory.

Still, finished for the time being, Vale groaned weakly and released Kade's features so he could hook hands beneath her underarms. "Up ye go, Princess-" He said softly, righting Kade as she woozily stood before him, grinning a guilty grin towards the Mathosian. "Ye look awful full ov yerself, don'cha?"

"Aye. Ye popped like a bottle ov Champagne, babe." Snickering, Kade licked her lips before trying to step away, though mid stumble, Vale was steadfast with his grip so before she fell forward, he had her hugged close to his chest. "AW FUCK- I guess I'm a bit lightheaded righ' now." Mumbling, the Elf asked, "Will ye carry me?"

"Darlin', I would carry ye fer the rest ov yer life if ye wanted. I'd carry ya, an' yer dingbat sista, an' that bahmi bastard ye call yer brotha, an' that goddamn dog ye guys keep as a pet-" Vale stopped with a howl of a laugh, his action quick as he scooped Kade into his arms like she weighed nothing at all. "I would do anythin' fer ya, 'cuz yer my Princess."

Instinctively her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and as they walked home in the dark, she found her visage resting in the crook of Vale's neck. "My knight in salvaged armor."

"M'Princess with scraped knees."[/sub]

---

RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 11-16-2015


Rhailo popped her gum with her gaze hooded, and her expression displaying clear dissatisfaction.

The chase wasn't nearly as exciting as Demagol had promised, though in his defense, the Auroun wasn't entirely sure any such chase had begun. The two were propped against the bar counter within the cantina, Demagol in his typical Mandalorian armor, and Rhailo in the equivalent to a body suit if the body suit's sole purpose was to outline every curve and swell of the woman's figure. Very little was left to the imagination, and when Demagol was busy speaking with the locals, Rhailo acted as a beacon for their curiosity otherwise. She was a time sink for hungry eyes, and a pitfall for those advantageous enough to attempt closer encounters with the creature.

Demagol didn't stand for anyone closing the distance, but his anger really came to surface when Rhailo was turned into the center of attention. Rhailo couldn't recall just how many potential problems had been solved by the Mandalorian's temper, but she didn't kid herself into thinking the number mattered. He was possessive, and in this way, she was happy to be possessed. The collar of her ensemble was just high enough to cover the slender metal band she wore around her throat, with a small engraving laser etched in the steel, and the weight of the jewelry acting as a reminder of ownership. Rhailo wasn't in charge, but that didn't stop her from acting like she was, especially then, with her mixer in hand and a smile easing across lush lips towards a patron down the counter.

"He doesn't need to buy you a drink." Demagol, through his armor, only briefly turned to glance down at his Auroun. "You're just baiting him."

"I know I am." Rhailo said softly as her features dipped towards the cocktail in her hands. Cupped, she nursed from it before batting her lashes upwards at where Demagol remained stationed. "I just don't see why you have an issue with who I bait. You bait people- for money, no less. Yet, if I want to get another drink, you're on my case about it. Why?"

Demagol had returned to reading the stacking lines of information crossing the display field of his helmet, though his voice remained hers to hear. "I just think it's counter productive when I already buy you drinks. If you had a drink from every man willing to buy you a drink, most of them wouldn't get touched, and there would be a waste of time and alcohol on our hands. Now, I know you don't care where money goes, so long as the intention is that it's spent on you, but you're shaking down the derelict while sitting there in 5,000 credit boots." Perhaps Demagol smiled to himself as he added, "Which I bought you. Notice the pattern here?"

Feigning naivety, the creature blinked pale lashes from the Mandalorian to the man seated down the way, and inspected what she could concerning the other man's appearance. "He doesn't seem all that poor."

"Disheveled appearance. Torn jacket. Lack of a personal HUD. Balding." Demagol shrugged once before stating, "There are things to notice when you're staking out a target. If you can't make out the impoverish from the wealthy, you're not really looking at them correctly."

"Well, maybe that's my issue. I'm not looking at them as objects. I'm looking at them as the people covered in objects." Rhailo clicked her tongue before returning her opalescent hues back to her drink. "Besides, it's nice to get attention."

"Why do you need attention?"

"That's a really silly question." Rhailo straightened her posture and made an about face so her shapely rear wasn't in view for all the distant patrons trying to ogle her from the back. "Why do you like to kill things?"

Demagol didn't respond, though beneath the cover of his helmet, the ridge of his brows creased angrily. Before any time had passed between their topic change and his disapproval of it, Rhailo was already making for the door of the establishment with a breathy sigh escaping her throat. Like a ghost, she drifted almost weightlessly, earning eyes from all directions even when she had no interest in their potential drink buying. She would make it about a block or so, tipsy and careless, before the hunter caught up with a growl and a very quick hand wrapping about the top of her arm. "Where are you going?"

"I was going somewhere that wasn't that cantina, because it's dirty, and the people there are poor." Plainly spoken, Rhailo pulled away from the hold and danced backwards towards the mouth of the alleyway closest to them. "You don't like me walking out alone?"

"I don't like being walked out on." Demagol slowly followed, his visor helping in the dark of the passageway despite the glow Rhailo emitted from her person. "You think I won't discipline you here?"

"You can't in your suit..." Maybe she enjoyed teasing her counterpart, though it seemed highly unlikely he appreciated the jabs as much as she enjoyed giving them. Neither of them were especially cruel, but there were times when Rhailo was several drinks into an uneventful evening, and her favorite pastime became instigating Demagol. She slinked backwards still, and he followed, stalking through the gloom like some mechanized beast. Silent but always in her sights, illuminated beneath the weight of her gaze. "And that must be so frustrating, Daddy. Too wrapped up in packaging to punish me. Tsk."

A very fast set of hands had the Auroun pinned to the wall before the gasp she made had finished leaving her throat. His booted feet forced apart Rhailo's, keeping her legs spread as the Mandalorian coaxed a few weak whimpers from the woman. One hand remained tight on both her wrists, holding them in the cuff of his fingers, while the other set of digits groped and pawed their way to the seal of her suit situated along the swell of her crotch. While searching, Demagol pushed his fingers inwards, parting the lips of Rhailo's cunt while she remained covered in latex, and asked, "Are you baiting me, Princess?"

"Mm.." Wiggling, she arched and sighed to herself before replying with, "I might be."

"Might be, might be... Rhailo, I'm going to teach you a lesson on restraint tonight. Are you ready?" Demagol unsnapped the seal over Rhailo's sex, exposing the slick pink folds that the hunter had no issues sliding his gloved finger between. He didn't penetrate his pet, but he lingered there, rubbing aimlessly at the nub of her swollen clit while the Auroun panted and bucked helplessly in her captive state. "I know you want to roam, but you're not going anywhere without Daddy..." His pace picked up, sparking a series of guttural moans to breach the darkness as Rhailo remained feverish and wanton, her spread legs quivering around where Demagol solidified his stance.

"I-I'm sorry, Daddy-" Rhailo breathed, though they both knew she wasn't sorry. She would do it again, perhaps often, because she knew he enjoyed it just as much as she did. His gloved finger was dripping with cum by the time Demagol pulled it away, which allowed Rhailo a pause to wilt in the hold he kept on her wrists. "I just wanted attention." Rhailo didn't need to lie, and Demagol was already well aware why she acted out when she did. Still, his suited figure only seemed to move closer as the Auroun swayed on her spread legs, threatening to fall over without the brace the mandalorian had created for her with his body.

"We're headed back to the ship." Already working to snap and seal the crotch of Rhailo's suit, he finished reclothing the woman with a satisfied sigh through the filtration of his suit. "When we get there, I'm going to do something about that attitude of yours..." He let free Rhailo's wrists before waiting to see if she was capable of standing, and when she proved able to do so, he edged his finger beneath her chin and tugged at the metal collar. "Someone keeps forgetting whose in charge, and that's unacceptable..."

---

RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 12-07-2015


Kismet kissed his lips again and again until the taste was more than a memory. Stolen, kept. Hers to savor. "I said I love you. Say it back- please say it back."

He didn't respond. His eyes remained shut, his figure unmoved.

"Please."

It wasn't often that she cried, though these tears were as artificial as the snowy drifts collecting around the cottage. The Dreaming housed their reunion. Their harsh ending. It was a place of pretty lies and miserable truths. The sort of place Kismet wished and hoped and prayed to avoid, yet there she huddled in her discontent, with a lifeless body neatly laying before the false light of the fireplace. A cottage in the woods was meant to be romantic. It had been meant to be theirs to share, but the dream was ending, and things had taken a turn for the worse.

Kismet wasn't familiar with death.

Not in the way many creatures were, having seen those around them perish to the bane of life expectancy and wasting disease. Fae didn't fall to those ailments, and a true death among her kind was rare. Rarer than her clan would lead others to believe. Cautious for much of her life, the creature found her carelessness had led to this accident, and the guilt already wrenched at her nerves. Uncoiling like a serpent of doubt, questions arose from the death like poppies in lush spring fields. Spiraling hues of pale green circled as they stared, vacantly looking over the male in question while shaky hands clasped at his shoulders.

She shook him. No movement. She was shedding tears over his features, which remained rigid and still. Again and again, the woman jostled and wrenched at the body until her crying turned to sobbing, and her shaking resembled a tantruming child with a rag doll. "Please wake up... I-I can't..."

But there was no waking him, and her eyes would find themselves bloodshot and sore before her wracking sobs ceased. Her throat tightened, her limbs stiff in the position she had chosen to take, resting over his body like a wounded beast protecting it's young. There was defeat in this stance; swathed in resentment. Kismet left her mouth agape as she finally pulled free from the corpse to dissolve the background of their cottage confinement. The shifting of the Dreaming churned in colors of the spectrum few would have a chance to see, so vibrant and bright that they threatened to blind the viewer.

Yet, she looked on like there was more to see besides the prismatic background swallowing the fallen Fae into its light. He ceased to be just as soon as the dream was released, replaced with the engulfing shroud of otherworldly light. Back into the soul stream he went, to feed lae lines Kismet prayed she never found herself a part of. On her knees, the woman stayed, still knelt and panting through her constricted state, though quivering fingers dragged painfully through blonde locks. Knotting in the tangle of her hair, Kismet screamed. Again and again and again, screaming into the ether that stretched beyond the cosmos known, and onward still.

Kismet would continue to scream until a voice spoke from behind her, silken and deep, with a curious sense of familiarity silencing her wounded sounds. Surprise dotted contorted features as she scrambled to look at the figure hovering precariously close to her position.

"You brought a mortal here." Dark haired and devious with his smirk, the standing figure arched one brow in question. "What did you expect?"

There were countless ways Kismet could have answered her company, but even as the distant light of the Dreaming receded back into the endless expanse of the realm, she found herself mute. Perhaps taken back anyone had found her here, of all places, or simply because it seemed so torturous to ask her that now. Of all times. Her mouth closed.

"Don't let me interrupt, if that's what I'm doing." He was taller than she would be standing, a towering presence donning a dark suit that clashed against the pastels of the pale plane. He pulled a cigarette from the breast pocket of his blazer, and the object was lit before it managed to reach his lips. "Halflings aren't true Fae. They get snuffed out pretty quickly here. Too much energy for them to handle. Like mortals, you know." His inhale was sharp, released as a hiss through his teeth. "Essentially mortals. There's no room for lesser Fae in the Dreaming."

"I didn't know."

"Wouldn't expect you would. No one teaches these things. Not back in Arcadia, and certainly not in that shit hole plane you've been living in. You're Kismet?" He flicked ash into the nothing of the Dreaming with little regard to the woman beneath him. What fell from the end of his cigarette drifted over her, but was gone before it managed to land on her slouched figure. "I know you. I hear things here that I shouldn't."

Craning her neck further, Kismet squinted upwards in a meager attempt to take in the details of the man speaking. Why he seemed so familiar, she couldn't place. His visage bore similarities to many she had seen, though not enough that she drew unnecessary conclusions. Instead, she asked, "What happened to your wings?"

Seemingly taken back, the stranger shot a look backward to the bound bundles folded and captive against the back of his jacket. "They're still there?!"

"Yes..." Kismet answered hesitantly, her own wings neatly crossed where they were, adorned with studded piercings along the arches of their bodies. "Were they not supposed to be?"

He chuckled darkly before another inhale was stolen between thoughts.

"Of course they're supposed to be there. Are you always so dense?"

Frowning, Kismet gathered up her skirt hem and rose to her feet, teetering only slightly as she shook her head. "No, but you didn't really answer my question at all. You insulted me... All you did was pretend like they weren't supposed to be on your back and-"

"Hush. You'll know when I mean to insult you. For now, just be happy I came to see you." His free hand made a sweeping motion of the area and it's desolation before he continued with, "See all of this? This is mine. This has been mine since I was put in the time-out corner by your dear, sweet Matriarch. You, Kismet, stumbled into my Kingdom." A pause was issued as that same hand moved to graze long fingers against the curve of her jawline. "You're a pretty young thing... Spitting image of your whore mother. Tell me, Kismet, do you know all the same tricks Chance does?"

Instinctively, Kismet stepped away and shook her head. At first, in regards to his forwardness regarding her mother, though it soon related to his latter inquiry. "No, I don't... No. I'm not like her at all."

Sighing, the stranger flicked away the remainder of his cigarette to be swallowed by the Dreaming. "What a shame. It's always so hard to break Fledglings in. I figured you would know a thing or two before I went to work on you, and that makes it easier." Hands now free to do as they pleased, they busied themselves rolling up the sleeves of his jacket and shirt to bear tanned forearms while his sentiments continued. "Not that I plan to take it easy on you. I've been away from pretty young things for too long, and Ki never comes to visit. That one, Kismet, let me tell you... That's my pride and joy."

Her frown only seemed to furrow deeper in her neat features as she listened to his statement, recognizing the name despite misinterpreting the meaning behind the rest of his words. "Who are you?" Glancing around quickly, the woman asked slowly, "Are you going to punish me for trespassing? I didn't mean to, but I did, didn't I? If this is your realm, then I guess I did..."

"I am Kayen Vereaux, and you are Kismet Vereaux." Finished with his sleeves, the male tapped one of his temple's lightly. "Is it coming together, Kiddo?"

Confusion replaced her previous expression, paired with several blinks upwards at the towering Fae with the bound wings. "No... I thought you were, uh... You're dead."

"Do I look dead?" Before Kismet had a chance to reply, Kayen breached the gap between them and wrapped his arms around the smaller figure's torso, just beneath the swell of her breasts. "Better yet, do I feel dead, Kismet?"

Gasping as she was held pinned to the larger body, she struggled with a shriek, thrashing at the physical restraints his arms created. "Get off me!"

"Or what? You'll tell your mommy? Go ahead. Ask her how I fucked all her tight little holes too. I've already had all she has to offer-" His head bowed over Kismet's hair to take her scent before he continued with a guttural growl. "But you're new, and you look like you'll be fun. Don't struggle so much, precious. You might even like it."

Physically hoisted into the air, Kismet fought tooth and nail against the hold even as she was carted off through the light, though the farther they moved, the dimmer the area got. Eventually, the two were in a state of twilight, with chirping crickets serenading their ill-fated meeting. Marshy fields stretched on for miles, a mock sky hosting pinprick stars high above their location. He trudged onwards with his prisoner in tow until they had entered the mouth of a gully beneath the dark shade of heavy Cyprus trees, and only there did he unceremoniously drop Kismet onto the illusion's ground. She hit the dirt hard, scraping her hands and bare knees as she scrambled away from where she landed.

"So, we can do this one of two ways." Kayen began speaking as his massive hands worked to unclasp his belt buckle. "You can do as I say, and I'll be gentle with you. So gentle, in fact, you'll enjoy yourself. I'm cruel only when I need to be. Otherwise, you can fight me, and I'll fight you back, and I'll break that pretty face of yours, and I'll rip off your wings so no one will ever take you in again. No house, no clan." Licking his lips slowly, he added under his breath, "Even I got to keep my clan when I was banished. Funny how that works, isn't it?"

She was crying again, and her lashes blinked away the tears as they came, though she didn't try and wipe them with her bloodied palms as shock settled. Kismet looked at the other Fae with an almost frightened gaze, though beneath fear, a spark of curiosity had begun growing. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you doing this?" Sniffling quietly, injured hands finally lay across her lap in the messy sitting position she had taken.

"Because..." Kayen ran his tongue against the front of his teeth while humming low in his throat. "Well, firstly, I want to fuck you. It's that simple, you know. You wander into my neck of the woods uninvited, and I'm just supposed to leave potential prey to run free? It's awfully presumptuous of you to think I wouldn't fuck you." He laughed, and it was a sound she liked despite everything happening. Kayen was incredibly likable, regardless their state of interaction, and Kismet resented this fact. "Second, and perhaps more importantly, I hate your fucking Matriarch. I hate your mother. I don't hate you yet, but I know it's a matter of time before I do, so I might as well give you plenty of reason to hate me. That way, you'll give me reasons in the future to hate you, too."

"That's stupid," Kismet said immediately following Kayen, her head shaking in disapproval. "And you know it's stupid. Why would you even say that?"

Kayen paused, a puzzled glance shot at Kismet before he inquired, "And why is it stupid?"

"Well, you could have just asked me. Or just, I don't know, tried to hit on me? You know... Normal things. Normal fucking things." Her voice raised slightly, the lilt hinting at that sense of distress eating at the back of her mind. "I may have fucked you without you carrying me here and throwing me on the ground!"

"Yeah?" Moving to crouch, Kayen made himself eye level with the younger Fae, his smile returning in devilish style, with the brightness of his swirling hues casting faint light over her features. "Why would you fuck me?"

"Well, you're really hot-" Kismet said quickly, though swallowed hard to cut herself off. To take a moment to think, she looked away towards the walls of the trench before adding softly, "I don't like them either. My mother, Lucky... I don't like anyone in the clan."

"Oh? And what did they do to you?"

"They abandoned me," Kismet whispered, her voice wavering as she looked back to Kayen. "I don't care if you fuck me. I don't want you to hurt me, though, okay?"

Eyes narrowing in the pitch of their outdoor meeting place, Kayen studied the shaking form of the creature before him before very gently placing his hands on her thighs. They ran slowly, and smoothly, along with the extent of her bare flesh, right up to the crumpled hem of her skirt. "You want me gentle?"

She would nod, and his hands would continue stroking the skin of her legs as though he wished to truly study her body. Slow, methodical movements up and down against the grain of the finest follicles a being might possess. "Please."

"Why did you bring that little Halfling into the Dreaming?" When he asked, his touching ceased, save for gripping each of her knees in his palms.

"I loved him. I wanted to show him the Dreaming because I thought he would like it here."

"But your love is fleeting." Kayen chided quietly, his vision lowering from her face to where his hands pried apart her legs. "You haven't gotten used to human emotions. You love everyone, don't you?"

"Not everyone."

"Not the clan, but those you meet. The strangers you make friends with. People down in the Fleshlands, regardless what their intentions are." He had dragged his hands further up her thighs so they were hidden beneath her skirt, the tips of his fingers brushing lightly against the front of her panties. "You would probably love me if I promise I wouldn't abandon you too."

"Why do you say that?" Shivering, her arms became anchors behind her back while her hips gyrated ever so slightly in their attempt to further his effortless grazing. A craving had already begun to seed in her stomach, twisting like the serpent of desire invading gardens of old. "That I would love you?"

"Because I know what it's like to be young and lost." Removing one of his hands from the tent of her pleated skirt, it was moved to cup her cheek so as the towering male leaned inwards, she couldn't draw away from his lips brushing her own. "And I know what it's like to love someone without reason. Love is blindness, after all. Our kind isn't supposed to feel love, but I know we do. I've felt it before." He kissed her slowly, taking the small whispered purrs she issued in time with each swirl his fingers made against the moist garment keeping him at bay. He pressed it inwards, forcing the material between Kismet's folds so he could stroke and tease at her damp sex even after he pulled his face away. He watched her, though, hawkish. He watched each and every quirk of those lovely features while the tips of his digits coaxed against her swollen clit.

"I feel sorry for Fledglings, Kismet, and I regret the evil this clan contains. Evil like me, like your mother- Part of the problem at large. I know I am, but I won't change. Even when I see tears on your cheek, I'm still using my powers to control you. I'll still fuck you senseless while you're under my control. I'm going to ruin something pure because I can, and the only Gods left to face for my crimes are those of our kind arrogant enough to claim that title. This is my existence here, and you- you were concerned enough to ask why my wings are bound? Because I ruin pretty little things like you." His teasing ceased then so he could yank down the lacy undergarments she was wearing, just enough to expose her slick soaked cunt. Not bothering to remove them completely from her long legs, Kayen's voice lowered as though what he said was a secret between the two currently present. "You're worth more than being fucked in the dirt, Kismet, but this is where I want to fuck you."

He nodded with his chin towards the blonde as he added roughly while lowering his slacks, "Get on your hands and knees."

Kismet was caught in a daze, her reactions airy and graceful despite having her underwear bunched up in a wad at her ankles. Shifting, the woman did as she was told, balancing on her scraped hands and knees so her bare ass was presented to the Elder Fae. Her wings parted to either side in a sleepy slump, and Kayen hummed approvingly before claiming the display, sinking long fingers into the thick flesh of her cheeks to knead at each while pulling them apart for a better look at the details of her spread cunt. Beneath the light of his gaze, hunger grew in his stomach as one hand dropped down to tend to his erection. He spit on his right palm for posterity's sake before giving his cock several invigorating strokes as the woman beneath his attention wiggled apprehensively while left to wait.

"Little slut you are..." He began under his breath. "You're desperate for this cock, aren't you?"

Where she stared outwards, Kismet bit her bottom lip and nodded at the question as her thighs spread as wide as they would go with her ankles still bound. Kayen took advantage of her eagerness by directing his cock with one hand while the other returned to the blonde's shapely hip. Pulling her inwards as the head of his cock squeezed between her tight folds, he forced himself through the constriction of her tight inner walls while growling low in his throat throughout the sheathing process. Kismet whimpered like she had before, her tone sweet and saccharine, even as her cunt molded to fit the girth of Kayen's cock. He made her take every inch, stopping only when the dark tuft of his ebony pubis tickled at the spread of her ass cheeks.

He couldn't help smiling to himself as he bucked her forwards, just to pull her back along his length. Her tightness made his blood boil, and a flush rose to his cheeks while she cried out in ecstasy as a response. Under his spell, she was nothing more than a glorified cock holster, but he needed to feel her quake and writhe in time with his pounding hips returning her back to his groin. Over and over again, he possessed her as much he could, with the hand not holding her hips snaking around the smaller Fae's body to grope at her breasts beneath her blouse. He could really get into this school girl appeal Kismet had, with her thigh highs and her mini skirt, traipsing around in dimensions she had no business being in, with a pair of panties as the only barrier pretending to keep him at bay.

He wanted her spread and wanton, begging for his cock while he coveted that pristine appearance she boasted as a prize to receive. He couldn't keep her, but he could pretend for a little while she was his to keep. This was his kingdom, and she was his prisoner. If nothing else, he could teach her what happened to pretty little things who wandered too far from home. Kayen snapped out of his rhythmic thrusts when he felt Kismet clench tightly like a vice around his cock, and the shift in her thighs left him struggling not to cum just yet. He may have been successful had it not been for the moans she made as her body convulsed beneath his; that broke his will. His hips locked in a paused state as he shot the buxom blonde full of his seed, a groan breaking the chain of his shallow pants. Pump after pump until he had emptied his load across those pink insides of hers, though he remained based in her constrictive orifice long enough to allow her to ride the aftershocks of her orgasm.

Kayen was no stranger to guilt. When it came upon him, he remained unapologetic.

Yet, with the concern she would topple over if he released her, Kayen pursed his lips and exhaled deeply through his nose while keeping her hugged against his chest. "You'll hate me soon enough, Kismet. They always do." He knew little of the girl in his grasp, but he knew enough regarding what he had done to her. One earned no favor by taking advantage of a wild youth.

"They always have."

---

RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 01-11-2016


Ziggy Stardust sipped her overpriced coffee over the morning post while a disgruntled barista giving her a dirty look from across the counter segmenting the cafe. Eyes wide, the article was read several times through with every word in the piece scrutinized over, though registering the facts was often more difficult than the act of actually taking them in. Moments would pass before the pint-sized performer finally gave way for the rush of nine-to-five commuters, her immaculate wingtips shuffling across apricot colored tiles until a seat was stolen next to the recently scrubbed storefront windows. With the holidays coming to an end, celebrations were out of season, and as a lump formed at the bottom of her throat, Ziggy knew she wasn't particularly festive any longer.

For once, she followed the proper etiquette for being indoors, and removed her hat without being asked to do so. Settling it next to her drink and the ruffled newspaper, she rummaged for a cigarette in her breast pocket. Soon after came her zippo, with it's set of infamous initials engraved in the silver sides. Her hand trembled as she lit her cigarette, and once the initial drag had been choked down, she knew it was too late to extinguish the tide of feelings attached to the news she received. In the middle of the coffee shop, surrounded by strangers uncomplicated by the death of their heroes, Ziggy Stardust stared vacantly outside towards the crowded street and wept. Quietly, but not without a few sequential hiccups breaking up the monotony of shallow breaths.

"I guess you heard the news." Errol took a seat across from Ziggy and unshouldered her bag, tucking it behind her feet before slowly crossing her ankles. "I'm sorry, Ziggy."

"Not a whole lot to be sorry about, Kiddo." But it was a lie, and both of them knew better before a forced smile crossed the shorter woman's features. "He was in bad shape, ya know- in a real bad way towards the end."

"Yeah, that's what I heard." Not ordering, the Albino placed her hands in her lap and hummed softly before admitting, "I never really had a chance to listen to much of his music. You know, like I listened to the songs you sent me, but I didn't download his discography like you told me to."

"Well, wouldn't be surprised if they use this opportunity to rip ya off. Always happens that way when someone's gone, ya know. They're fuckin' vultures." With her free hand, Ziggy wiped her eyes with the back before taking another long inhale of smoke. "Ain't like he wasn't incredible before, but they'll cram him down your throat now that he's gone just to make a few extra bucks."

Errol couldn't quite mirror the magician's disgust as she nodded solemnly. "I'll still pay full price. It's out of respect for the artist."

"Well, he's fucking dead now, so what does he fucking care if ya pay or not?" Bitterly, the remainder of her cigarette was smashed into the ashtray situated between the pair. "He doesn't get a cut of the cash up there."

"Up there?"

Uneasily, Ziggy repositioned herself with one leg crossed squarely over the others knee. "Yeah. Up there, like in heaven. Ya know, pearly gates and beyond."

"No, I know what you mean." Errol replied quietly. "I just didn't peg you as religious."

"Kid, if there's one thing I'm not beyond believin', it's that heroes end up in heaven."

Bringing up both sets of digits to rake carelessly through the coif of her bubblegum pink hair, she went on to explain, "I've spent all my time resenting having this name. Real gimmicky name it is, right? I've spent all my years thinkin' my parents were fucking idiots to name their kid after a persona- but you know what's worse than being named after a song? It's knowing that connection ya had with the name is gone- that somewhere, a family is mourning their loved one, and all you have for memories is this name ya never really liked, but it suddenly ties ya up with the loss."

Silently, Errol looked away to where her friend had been gazing, off towards the pedestrians all filing neatly through the city on their way to work.

"I lost my parents a long time ago, Errol. They're gone. Now the name they gave me is all I have left, and their inspiration for naming me it is gone, too." A laugh escaped Ziggy as she added bluntly, "It's been a shitty morning."

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 04-06-2016

Malcolm had been trying to give up smoking.

Trying. That was the key word. Trying.

The thing about trying was, it didn't always pan out. You either ended up successful, or you found yourself shit out of luck. This wasn't a luck game though. No dice were thrown, no cards held; it was all about mustering the will to stop the act. Hell, he'd even told some of the saloon rats between rented time, and they were as mock encouraging as a few gold would provide. Now though, his nerves were a mesh of static, collectively working against his resolve. Trying wasn't an option when bigger issue were coming to light.

Rubbing the tops of his knuckles, Malcolm Graves released an unceremonious grunt before taking time to rummage through his side satchel. He kept a few spent casings in the pack, along with a cigar that had been lit and put out more times than he cared to count. When the cigar rested between his lips, he thumbed a match head to light it, and inhaled heavily from the stale tobacco. Assuring himself this didn't make him a quitter, sharp blue eyes found smudged print on the lamp post where a poster had been haphazardly tacked to the aged wood. A brief scan earned a snort that shot smoke upwards into the atmosphere, his expression falling on subdued disappointment.

"They got my eyebrows all fuckin' wrong." The image was his, illustrated in cheap black ink, though some of the details were rough. The artist had gotten lazy with his beard, failing to fully shade the facial hair, and his eyebrows appeared to be afterthoughts similar to squirming caterpillars. "Ain' never seen a mug shot look so sloppy."

Malcolm took another quick drag from the cigar before rough fingers, squared from use, held the grasped end firmly and jammed the cherry directly into the nose of the image.

"Fuckin' shoddy work." His southern accent growled as he turned away, the cigar tossed back into his bag. "Lazy work never gets the job done."

Trying, in most cases, didn't hold the same results as doing. Bounty hunters had been trying their hand at catching the outlaw, but they hadn't done it yet, and Malcolm Graves had no intention of making it easy for them.

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"THAT ISN'T FAIR!"

Well, obviously. Sarah Fortune didn't fight fair.

"You have until the count of five, Cowboy. Put your hands up, or I'll blow a hole through more than your ego."

The situation was a precarious one, though Sarah wasn't the one caught with her pants around her ankles. The target had barely enough time to shake his dick after a quick leak behind the tavern, and out she had come from the shadows with a grin bigger than her reputation. Auburn hair settled in wavy curtains around her bare shoulders, accenting the the blouse she wore. The cut gave ample reason to stare, though the alarmed man didn't waste time on her curves. Instead, over his shoulder, he glanced back with a hint of confusion.

"I can't even pull up my slacks?"

Were Sarah less experienced in her field, her answer would have been something to the tune of, 'Sure, pull up your pants' - but she'd had too many pistols pulled on her, and too many rough encounters with targets seeming compliant in the moment. Instead, her smile seemed to shrink to little more than a ghost of it's former self. "Nope."

[wip]

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 06-10-2016

For safe keeping:


When hair burned, it had this sort of acrid and pungent smell that lingered in the air long after whatever fire had been put out was long gone. It just hung there, and it was awful, and try as he might, Manny couldn't seem to get rid of the smell. It was on his clothes, his skin, even in his own unruly locks. Cursing, he drew back from the room; retreated to regroup.

What was he supposed to do with this body?

Better yet, who was he supposed to blame for the body? The victim wasn't his. They never were. It was just some up-and-comer, with dreams too big for their pockets, and wide brown eyes that currently stared lifelessly at the stucco ceiling. His body was charred and blistered over available skin, indistinguishable at points where clothing meshed against ruined flesh. Manny thought of summer barbecues, and the occasional steak left on the grill too long. Manny couldn't even tell if the body had actually been male, but it wasn't his place to start picking at pieces for details of the corpse's previous life.

He didn't get paid to pry.

Manny plucked at the thick plastic gloves covering his hands, checking the elasticity to ensure they wouldn't tear at any point in the process. A bucket of bleach water sat nearby, as well as new sponges and towels and a spray bottle with an ammonia cocktail for blood splatter. The boys hadn't just torched the poor bastard, but they had dug their claws in deep. Deep enough to gut the guy. There had been entrails pulped at the stomach, skin split before fire was brought into the picture, and now Manny couldn't help thinking of thick strings of Italian Sausages from Cuzimano's down on fifth.

He cursed again, wishing he had eaten before he showed up. Then, after a string of expletives, he was glad he hadn't. The last thing he needed was a pile of his puke at the crime scene.

"Whatever..." He breathed before stalking off to get his tools. "Don't think about it."

Emmanuel Parker sat with his face cupped in his hands, elbows propped against the cold polish of his dining room table. His mother was prattling on about the neighbor's daughter. Alexis or Alice. Something. "-But they keep askin', Manny. They want you to meet her, an' they say they'll make you both dinner. Isn't that worth givin' it a shot? A free dinner with a pretty girl?"

"Nah." Manny admitted quietly as his body shifted, his legs crossing while he leaned back in his chair. "They probably don't know what they're doin' in a kitchen." His head shook, sending his unkempt curls into disarray. "Look, Ma, I ain't interested. I got other shit I gotta deal with, and I don't got time for dinners and hookups and whatever else ya got planned."

Her retort was priceless; a half growl, half whine of frustration. "Manny, you're too young to be too busy for a date."

"Tell me about it." He said as a hand instinctively rose to point out the scattered grey hairs caught in the mess of brunette. "Too young for grey hair, too, but I got 'em."

"I don't know what's got you so stressed, hon. Working for a nice young couple, cleaning their house a few times a week- that isn't the worst job to have at your age. When I was twenty-four, I was workin' for that hard assed jamaican woman I told you about. Sheila? Yeah, I was workin' for her, cleaning close to ten houses a day. And your father was stuck with Ralph at the plant, puttin' up with the worst conditions, and working like 70 hours a week for less than minimum wage. They hated us then, and they hate us now. There's never been any love for immigrants in New York city."

Manny held his tongue because anything he said might make his mother cry. He didn't want her to get caught up on his father, who died in '93, but had settled as a ghost in her consciousness for the entirety of Manny's life. A pipe had ruptured, and the water had scaled his father so badly, they said he died in less than a minute. Despite his mother coming away with more money than she would have ever seen with his father alive, she continued to live as though it were still the early nineties, with her thoughts on hard work and diligence and how New York City didn't give a damn about their family or their struggles.

Sucking her teeth after the silence of her previous statement seemed to smother their kitchen, Manny's mother shrugged from her place at the sink, a rinsed plate still in hand. "All I'm saying is you need to live like you're still young, Manny. I know you wanna be responsible, and you always wanted to make your own way, but this? This is just stress you don't need. Tell those Cooper's you can't get caught up in their business. I know you think I don't know what it's like, but I did it, too. I know that when you're working around those sort of types, it's easy to get caught up in their business. We ain't like them though, Manny."

"No, I got that much. Believe me." He scratched behind his ear before standing up, and with a lazy step, he gave his much shorter mother a hug from behind. "I'll try an' ease up, okay? Just don't worry about me so much, eh? I'm fine. Gettin' paid well, too. I just stress myself out, always have."

"You're all I got, Manny. Just don't make your poor mother cry, alright?"

Laughing, he pulled away and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair before pushing it in. "Never. Never gonna make you cry."

Not if he didn't fuck up, he wouldn't.


"Daddy," Emily cooed quietly from where she lay, Egyptian cotton sheets framing her slender torso like petals around the stigma of a flower. The room was done in rose accents, with a cherry finish to the

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 06-27-2016

Mock Cover 1 (For ideas and such)

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 07-23-2016


Coffins were once made of wood, Cyprus and Mahogany and Walnut; all sorts of materials Rhailo had never ever seen first hand. They were cushioned and contained, meant to bury the dead comfortably so they may rest easy in the afterlife. They had a sense of peace attached to their very presence. An almost ethereal quality of assurance that no matter what else might occur, the dead would receive their proper send off, and no harm would come to those resting below sacred earth. Now, the Auroun was left only with a memory capture to send into space while her brother and his entourage watched somberly.

She didn't know where he ended up, in pieces or entirely intact. He was simply gone. Perhaps she should have waited longer. Years. Lifetimes. Eons. She had such time to wait and wonder, but Rhailo resigned herself to whatever fate had humbly offered as condolences, and seized present opportunity to suture still fresh wounds in her heart. The ache was seething like burned skin, sensitive to reminders and to memories. The memory capture especially, where the light in his blue eyes held a mirth almost uncharacteristic of the hunter. Her lips quivered as a voice she didn't wish to use broke the silence aboard the vessel.

"Can you tell me how?"

Brax turned vacant hues off towards the stillness of space, knowing no way in which to answer that didn't seem entirely cold. He was cold outside and in, yet his twin deserved more than a frigid rebuff. The acting captain had joked that the twins could use a two-for-one coupon for their journey given how identical the pair appeared, yet it was a bond deeper than appearance, and when Rhailo ached as she did, Brax couldn't help but ebb with similar feelings. Strange as they were, they were precious in times like these. Times when he couldn't provide any true comfort to someone in such great need.

He cleared his throat. "How what?"

"How to detach myself from someone," She began, her voice betraying her, "who I can't promise is dead. How? How do I give up on something when it's all I remember?"

His eye twitched, a strange tinge of distress forcing expression to his otherwise steady gaze. "You remember me, and the Crystal Fall, and the prism sky we were born under. You remember home, even if you hate it. You remember things, Rhailo. He wasn't your life. That you cannot give to anyone so willing to vacate it." He paused briefly before a sternness overtook his message. "If he lives, he's given you up. You are no longer his, and... Well, he is no longer yours."

Fingers tightened around the image so hard, prints threatened to shatter the glass display. "Then he's dead." So clearly forced, her throat tightened in protest as tears found their way to her pale eyes. "Dead. He didn't... N-no, not while he lived would he do such a thing."

Brax kept his silence in wake of her words, again feeling the grip of fear subduing inner commentary. His intent was never to cause his sister pain. Never. Not even to shine light on the abandonment she likely suffered; another misstep in a life often led astray.

The pallbearer was a stranger, and the remnants of the hunter handed to him weighed nothing in his hands. To Rhailo, she had carried his very existence in those last shreds of his belongings. Handing them over had been the worst part, but cry as she might, the deed was done. When the man stepped away to place them in the designated ejection capsule, her teary gaze found it's way to the depths of space, though unlike Brax, she didn't see the vastness. It wasn't so cold in Rhailo's thoughts, but peaceful as any of the graves of days long forgotten on worlds she never visited. The mystery of where he went would remain mystery, but to Rhailo, he would live forever in a place time couldn't take away.

"Are you ready?" Brax asked quietly, long arms crossed at his chest as his tall stature remained perfectly straight. Respect for the deceased.

"Yes."

A distinct WOOSH was audible from the sealed compartment where the belongings had been placed, and in moments following, Rhailo tracked the progress of the capsule as it drifted through space until it wasn't distinguishable from distant stars. Even longer she remained to stare, even as the gathering dispersed and she was alone with Brax still as a statue. When he finally walked away and the room had been emptied by all but her and her thoughts, the tears came back. A palm pressed to the reinforced glass, twitching and desperate to grab hold of what was long gone, but she couldn't.

Never again.

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 08-03-2016


"Don't contaminate the clan's lineage with your worthless creations."

How he laughed then with his teeth bared as if he meant to take a bite out of Lucky Vereaux, who seemed far more insulted by his nonchalance than he was by her demands. "Angry as you might be, you can't stop me."

And between the two of them, in that moment, there was an unsettling silence that seemed all too familiar. Kayen could taste her doubt, and relished in what thoughts might inhabit a mind such as hers. Did she truly fear his pollution spreading through her dynasty? After having worked so hard to obtain a level of order, it was almost criminal that the older Fae would start releasing his heirs to roam unsupervised. Even if he had been there to police the actions of his fledglings, both he and Lucky knew he never intended to do such a thing.

Without a reply given, Kayen accepted what could only be defeat by nodding a few times while issuing a dismissive wave of his hand. "You might as well leave, Lucky. I'm sure there are things you need to attend to elsewhere, and I surely can't follow. Banished and all. I'm sure you understand." His geniality belied the cunning he was so well known for, though Lucky wouldn't have been fooled. Not for millennia had the other Fae present been naive enough to think anything good of him. Even Kayen was honest about his lack of sincerity and general admission of guilt. If it wasn't one thing, it was another; his reign of terror couldn't be countered by containment in the Dreaming.

So in his prison he would stay, even if it wasn't such a terrible place to remain. The Dreaming provided what he wished to have, and when shaped by one as old as humanity, there was no limit to what he could create to suit his needs. Adon had been his first creation, a little of himself and a bit of that crazed Englos woman. Perhaps the experiment had worked. Kayen didn't know for sure, as the youth was beyond his grasp in the fleshlands, and that distance wasn't one he was able to close. His second adventure in creation was Ki, who seemed so much like himself, he hardly knew whether he loved or hated her. His narcissistic nature ensured him it was the former, but there had been occasions that she disobeyed his commands, and for that, he felt a familiar pull of anger choking at his insides.

His latest creation was neither like Adon or Ki or even himself. Instead, she was a very close replication of Kismet Vereaux. Had he forcefully taken Kismet hostage for a few hours to ensure he knew just what to make when replicating her? What a silly question. Of course he had. All the past women in his life were members of the clan, and he had no intentions of ceasing the practice. Kayen was a creature of dark intent, true, but there was a sense of pride that encompassed even his carnal needs. No humans would do, and Fae outside the Vereaux were entirely foreign to the bound elder. Besides, assessing the other clans was difficult for those in the Fleshlands. There would hardly be a chance he could communicate with any of their members while trapped in the dreaming.

When Lucky finally left, Kayen returned to where he had been settled before the summon. His estate was larger than any singular being would ever need, but extravagance was his blood, and frivolousness his spirit. Having built the behemoth over the course of many years, it was safe to say the property was exactly as he wished it to be. High ramparts and towers, long winding stairways leading through drafty halls, and magnificently large chambers embellished with finery the world outside the dreaming would never be privy to seeing.

When one is banished to the Dreaming, they have little else to do but create. His first years were maddeningly silent. Just him, speaking to himself, while he struggled to understand how he might manipulate the lae lines to work in his favor. He made one single room over the course of a decade. By the time that was finished, he was capable of finer detailing. As the story goes, practice made perfection; he was one of the best at creating, Possibly better than Lucky, though he would never compare to Panzer or the old ones the lae lines had taken for recycling. The Fae before his generation were fae more sophisticated and articulate with their creations than the new breed was. Generation loss, unfortunately.

A colorful splash against the pillows alerted him she had followed directions. Promising. "How do you feel, Vian?"

"Fine, I guess." Her voice wasn't at all like the other Fae. It wasn't so magically altered that it was fantastical and moving to those who heard it. Instead, it was quiet and thoughtful. A delicate sound. "My eyes are adjusting to the light."

Kayen glanced around in question, unsure if she meant the artificial lights of his castle, or something he couldn't quite make out. "Are they too bright for you?"

"No, not really. My eyes are new though. It will take getting used to. Light, that is. Light will take getting used to." She brought up her fingers to rake through her plum shaded locks, the color seeming to ripple and change depending which way the light caused a sheen. "Where did you go?"

A valid question considering he was alone in the space between worlds most of the time. Besides Ki, who visited infrequently now that she was his eyes and ears on the outside, Kayen rarely received visitors. Just the lost souls who hadn't meant to trespass, but somehow found themselves wandering through his neck of the cosmic woods. He closed the gap between himself and the bed to take a seat on the edge of the mattress. "The Matriarch came to visit me on account of you."

"Of me?" Vian looked flattered, her luminous hues searching his face for hints of why this was the case. "What did she say?"

Rather than completely trample Vian's personal worth by admitting that the Matriarch wished she had never been created, Kayen instead shrugged. "Just that she was surprised I had made another Fledgling. Perhaps the two of you will meet one day, but no time soon, I'm afraid. You're no where near ready."

(and then more stuff I need to add still.)

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