Oblivion [closed] - Printable Version

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Oblivion [closed] - Kat - 05-03-2015

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Oblivion [closed] - Kat - 09-19-2015

[/img]"http://i.imgur.com/JZBd50w.png" style="avatar" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]"Master, I praise you..."

Thighs spread wide against his groin where the woman sat, their skin tones forming a mesh of fluid coated tapestry that reflected the deed. This act. This defilement of nature, where the sins she swallowed were of heavenly semblance while her own flesh was craven host to the unholy. Oh, how good his cock felt where it was enveloped, those undulating muscles wrapped taut and merciless around the circumference, squeezing mercilessly while Pfifer's hips moved in languid rhythm. One of her hands had taken to holding his hip, grasping it firm for leverage like it could anchor her, but the other roamed to Elven features. Digits brushed back his feathered bangs, gentle in their demand to seek hues as blue as her own. Between panting her pleasure towards the pinned male, the Mage continued to mouth words of the message.

If they were to become bound, there was a ritual to initiate the act. Incantations were important in this regard.

"I-I've come here to tame the demands of the flesh..." Lids fluttered while the tension built, that familiar flame alight in her stomach sending desperate pleas to weary muscles. How long had they been at this? Their lust was palpable, drawn in lines across each figure as dotted globes of sweat slithered over their bodies. Bliss had a way of finding the pair, creeping upon their heated discussions and worried whispers to instill a new found sense of longing; theirs was hedonistic in nature, but pure. Unattainable outside this damned union that caused no issue with the outside world, yet found them enemies among all those they once represented. Crime of passion? Hardly. There was no crime in consummating one's vows, regardless how diabolical a certain female on top may have been.

Knees dug into the bed to lower her pale frame, burying his pulsing member as deep as it would go, effectively basing him. Ass spread where her cheeks rested, his hands forcing them apart so his cock was swallowed in tight demanding folds. There, Pfifer quivered as roseate flush covered her visage, lips still parted as the remainder of the hushed devotion was shared inaudibly. Hips bucked forward to plunge him further, ensuring he wouldn't have a chance to get away from those rolling, hungry gyrations capturing his waist. She was so invested in this duality, had Leon thought it possible to contain her passion, she would have resorted to violence; there was no pausing the rites.

"I've come to forget my name. In you, I am whole. In me, you are free."

Between them, malignant currents surged, comprised of endless pleasure. Wave after wave struck their duo, and when her physique made to arch while his followed suit, keeping his manhood clenched in the coiling embrace. Lighted orbs sought his for recognition, as this divinity she offered him was free of shackles and rhetoric. Her Gods were long ago dead, yet they never stopped their tireless toiling, always present in the affairs of man. So when taking Leon, Pfifer wanted every fiber of that quaking shell as sacrifice-- His Gods wouldn't forgive this treachery. She didn't care. Her affections rest solely in strained cries and satisfied groans as the wash of seed coated her insides.

This was only the beginning.


---

Blood stained the ground.

As though a great sea had been parted to release crimson tide, the small town within Stillmore's bastard bergs was a ghost of it's former gloom. Even the rats had been laid to waste. Yet among this filthy scene, a cloaked figure stood tall. Proud in their demeanor, the shielded body shook a gloved set of fingers over the barren patches of earth, further coating their expanse in quickly drying vitae. Blood had a way of saturating not only the landscape, but those in it's presence. Pfifer scoffed quietly at the mess, though mostly seemed unbothered; one did well not to linger over their deeds. Eyes were everywhere in search, and Pfifer's reputation in Telara was quickly becoming inescapable.

Light steps trailed over the carnage while the tails of onyx robes and cloak indiscriminately dragged ruined corpses in their wake. The aura that swallowed her was devious, lashing and licking bruise shaded tendrils of corruption over fallen townsfolk. It had consumed their bodies, their souls, and the leftovers were scraps at best. How hungry it was, gnashing blind maws towards the flayed figures disappointingly. Expectant for more, Pfifer simply ignore the grotesque display, as though that would be enough to encourage it keep it's peace. The miasma would retreat back into it's host with a series of threatening hisses, allowing her to travel uninhibited by such distractions. There was work to do, and it wouldn't do to allow any more stops along the way, even if the demon within was restless and demanding.

Pfifer was the cage-- Her word was law.



The slap echoed through the open air like the crack of a whip. "Where is she?! WHERE, COLE?!" Pfifer cocked back her arm once more to issue a second slap, though this time with as much force as she could muster. The Bahmi staggered back slightly with the blow, confused.

"I don' fuckin' know what you're on about, getting crazy with me!" Coleman Vhaun wasn't the largest Bahmi to ever walk the face of Telara, but he was just as imposing as his clansmen, and still managed to possess a solid foot of height over the blonde Elf. Even so, she was undeterred. Unafraid.

Pfifer Rhodion feared no man, nor God, nor beast of Telaran creation. This was well known, and perhaps, would one day prove her downfall. "This one has NO PATIENCE for your lies! WHERE IS SHE?!"
But soon others from the tavern would make their approach, as Ardent Glade was as populated as any college town, and the woman saw the concern on neighboring faces. Even her palm stung in unison with the crowd as a means to level her head.

"Do you really wanna do this here?" Cole asked softly, his lids narrowing towards the Elf. "Is this really the place for you to be acting out?"

Pfifer hissed her response as she turned to leave, tolerance thin beneath the veil of covered attire. "I will find her, Cole- Do not think you can protect her forever. Any of them. This isn't even your fight!" With foot steps leading her back through the streets, the words muttered by the Bahmi weren't entirely lost.

"Why couldn't I put my cock in something simple?"


Leon had been missing for a few days, and in her usual way, she worried. Was he not in some sense hers to worry about? A new reminder of a life chosen in haste; the anxiety of waiting. Be it for him to return to their shared sheets, or for information concerning those she was seeking otherwise. Life was never so kind to Pfifer, and simplicity couldn't hold a candle flame to chaos. At least the hectic nature of things kept her on her toes, if nothing else. Her newest venture was coming along nicely, decorated in muted tones of torch lit brevity. Nothing stood out, and without complication, the blonde caster could feel at ease in the house.

Whether it would be a true home to her, she couldn't say.

Books were strewn across her chamber like fallen soldiers on the battle field, marked and messy. In some cases, forgotten in favor of other tomes. What she sought had yet to become clear, but this sort of obstacle was one she knew all too well. The bane of her experiments was not held in her own abilities, but in those limited details shared by others of cloth and sorcery. If there had been a spell to recite, she would know it by heart-- But searching was tedious. Time consuming. A task only she could be trusted with, as even Leon held ties to an order she had no sway with.

The Inquisition was always looking for new and inventive reasons to free Telara from the clutches of the darkness. Unfortunately for them, such holy light had no place in her future plans. Marking a passage she found slightly more helpful than the rest of the work, her attention shifted back to the stairs, as if hinting she needed to leave once more. The night held countless opportunities for the tortured soul, and while she expected Leon would find her out in the open as he often chose to, it wasn't his presence that drew her from the sanctuary of silent reading.

Again, the demon was restless.


He slept... Finally.

Memories of bloodied kisses and sealing wounds with wandering tongue didn't fade so quickly for Pfifer as she lay with the battered body of her partner. Leon had suffered greatly. Perhaps beyond the injuries of his flesh did one manifest upon his ego. Those he trusted most, a calling he pledged countless years to, betrayed him. Such betrayal was met with swift action on Leon's part, but the woman held at his side expected there was more than wasted years he worried for. Whatever had taken to living within the male's skin now made itself known as drawn filaments of darkened veins. Scarred, damaged, and completely changed.

How she loved him where he slept, dreaming and lost. How she wanted to avenge all the experiences that created this newly marred image of his once godly appearance. Yet in this, she only envied his will; such fight Leon possessed. A desire to keep himself alive, be it selfish reasoning, or for the binding they were now linked by. A forced endeavor, Pfifer wouldn't apologize for her hand in ensuring they were tethered together by ethereal strings like two attached puppets. The show needed entertainers, and the audience would eat them alive should they not have this connection. It was paramount to the fabric of their story together. Perhaps he would come to learn this exact predicament of theirs, especially considering just how reckless his shapely companion could be.

Pfifer brought a hand towards his slumbering profile, delicately working her finger tips against these new defilements to a once familiar form. "But after what you've done, do you expect them to return for you? An order? An army? What have you done to us, Leon..?"

---

Oblivion [closed] - Kat - 09-19-2015

[/img]"http://i.imgur.com/JZBd50w.png" style="avatar" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]"Do you like him?"

The two sat sprawled in high September grass, where the farm was no longer tended, and fields were granted freedom to grow. To flourish in messy, dandered displays that cast pollen and petals through the air with every wayward breeze. Only a hint of cold rose on such winds, as there was time yet before autumn harvest, and the trees had yet changed their colors. Pfifer enjoyed the sun in the afternoons, where it peeked through the foliage when it wanted their attention, but otherwise kept to itself. Her sister bundled in a blanket of wool, complaining every so often of how she missed the summer nights. Kadence, daughter of the sunlight, all too keen to lay about in the rays while the rest of their family busied themselves.

As the oldest, Pfifer had duties aside from tanning. So, the question was answered in her usually calm tone. "Yes. He seems decent enough."

At this, Kade chided by scoffing, her eyes aroll within framework of thick lashes. "Oh, that's an answer, sure. He's decent... Doesn' it bother you though? I mean, don'cha wish you could have chosen?"

Perhaps behind the barrier of trained demeanor and drilled rules of etiquette, part of Pfifer was screaming. A silent scream, full of contempt and rage-- A pained sound in the bottom of her being. It would remain hidden, buried to some extent, as this wasn't the time nor place to explain her true feelings. That time and place didn't exist. No one cared... At least not enough to stop her from suffering this grave insult. Semblance of a smile crossed her features, pulling at the corners of her lips in the knowing way it often did. A condescending mask to hide her doubt. "You will understand when you're older."

"Fuck if I will." Kade said before yanking out a stalk of offensive grass to chew at, her attention flickering back towards the woods encompassing their lands. "I'd run away. Be done with it all if Father thought he could marry me off like a hog. I tell ya, Fifi, you could leave. Be done with it, if ye wanted-"

A sigh escaped Pfifer, one of her hands rising to silence her sister. "Stop. If things were so simple, do you think I'm really so stupid that I would just play along with their plans? An arranged marriage? I've never once considered getting married, and now I'm promised to someone? Trust me, Kadence. I would suffer this insult only under the most dire of circumstances, and such factors have some to pass. This isn't an option for me-- This is an obligation." The woman moved to stand, palms brushed against the backside of her dress to remove any accumulated fibers from the field. "You will never face such hardships thanks to my sacrifice, so don't speak of running." Pfifer paused the thought to renew her smile as her addition came as, "One cannot outrun destiny."


Fingers buried in flesh. Gods, she could feel their muscles tighten with slick elasticity like the bow of a violin to it's partnered strings. Such music they made when clawed grasp carved out room for itself at the base of their spine. Blood was everywhere, such a shadowing basting that seemed impossible to detach from. This warmth was stolen, this acceptance imposed on her victim. Tasting her lips, coppery drying essence seemed to cleanse her palette of resolve; uninhibited by the morality of her forefathers. Oh, how lost she was in this bloodlust, growling through vocals that weren't her own. An abomination, disfigured and grotesque, but inevitably victorious.

The body beneath hers ceased it's fighting. From behind, past a wall of flames as obsidian as the rocks of Ember Isle, a voice cried out.

"ARTEO! Don't look! Don't look at her!"

The creature turned lighted gaze towards the distressed sounds, trying to make out shapes from behind the hellfire barrier. Hunched and massive, the beast erupted with screams of it's own, distorting the audio of the area. The echos shook what walls still stood, threatening to topple the entire structure under their might. The two elves in the distance bolted away, one hefting the other smaller figure onto their shoulders so they could move with haste. Where were they going? Why did they run?

Ravenous maw returned to the prize beneath it, consuming as much of the purified pulp it could hold. Insatiable.


The stroking of his cheek didn't cease, even while he pleaded. Even when a cough stole Leon's sentiments like a spout of steam from an overworked engine. No, she continued this while the gears in her mind ground painfully over possibilities neither had expected to ponder in their midnight revelry. Their hole was a deep, dark pit, and their salvation wasn't above; they were meant to dig deeper. If they couldn't live quietly among themselves in the darkness, they would seek further for assistance there. Pfifer shifted to lean inwards, and crushed her lips to his forehead while words were forced through as attempts to calm her companion. "Don't. Don't, please. We will figure this out."

Pulling away, digits idly twirled the stained strands of her partner's hair. "I love you more than you know, Leon. This changes nothing between us." Yet her body slipped from his to rise, trailing steps from the bed to the shelves lined with tomes. her gaze settled over a select title, and upon removing it, she motioned towards the book with a nod. "There are still options for us. I've never been one to be caught off guard, and I would never allow others the satisfaction of swift retaliation." Propping it open with one hand, the other flicked through the pages until a familiar passage was discovered, decorated in knotted arcanum scrawl. A mage's writing, though one far more powerful than the two presently available.

"What if, perhaps, we entertain the idea that you've found yourself in similar predicament to myself?" Outwardly, there was nothing wrong with Pfifer. Her body was in pristine condition, her mind a ticking clock that seemed to never cease endless absorbing thoughts. What predicament could she possibly mean? "Leon, how do you feel right now? Are you angry?" To the page her eyes went, and her voice read the words as they were written, emphasizing when it was important for the other Elf to hear.

"A subject might find themselves exhausted... A demon's prowess has the ability to wear down their resolve, but it is guaranteed to sap their physical strength- How long the seed has been left to manifest can indicate the severity of the possession. With time, the urges the host body feels will become more powerful. The feeling has been described as insatiable hunger." Pfifer paused with a chuckle, her head shaking blonde bangs from her eyes. "Sounds familiar, doesn't it?"

---

Oblivion [closed] - Kat - 09-19-2015

[/img]"http://i.imgur.com/JZBd50w.png" style="avatar" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]The implication behind his words wasn't lost on the Mage, from where she stood at the book shelf with tome in hands, but Pfifer didn't know everything to do with his order, or their exact methods. Truth be told, she had ignored much of their dealings over the years as an attempt to keep from garnering too much pressure from that prestigious iron fist of the Inquisition. Perplexing as their devotion may have seemed to any outsider, Pfifer was a being of knowledge and resource; common sense came packaged into the deal. So when an order of unrivaled hypocrisy towards the arcane decided to teach those of the darker persuasion a lesson, it was pivotal to her end goals that she stay well hidden. Her mistake wasn't in allowing herself to be caught, but instead in relying on Leon not to sell her out. As it was, the slight was forgiven-- But there would be repercussions regardless how much devastation those of the council had suffered. If their collective was so easily downed, wouldn't another of equal or greater power have already stepped to the plate to rid themselves of this nuisance?

This question may have scratched up a shred of doubt within that crystalline gaze of hers while Pfifer watched Leon from her stance, back leaning into the shelving for the time being. Attention didn't falter through the entirety of her companion's story. What a clever liar he could have been... Did she see that in him when he reminisced? Was there a reason she bore holes in that battered frame like it had wronged her in more ways than there were words to express? Perhaps, in Pfifer's mind, there was a great deal more to their complications than she hoped to express in present company. Especially while Leon lay there, grounded, with memories he didn't have complete contact with. Partial truths to play games on an already exhausted psyche.

"So, you believe yourself under the influence of something other than possession? Or, rather, you see this as who you really are?" The message seemed cold, distance, with a hint of condescension lacing the tone. Unintentional to some extent, Pfifer couldn't help coming off skeptical. Gods be damned, she was straining to come to terms with so many new things already, and with every passing breath, there seemed another revelation from the other mage. Was this the sort of deal they made in their uninterrupted fits of passion? Had logic left them in that time, replaced by the most basic carnal instincts? This couldn't possibly be the end for them, so why did she find herself stumbling along boundaries separating irreparable loss and salvation? Coupled with this line of questioning, the book was snapped shut and placed back on the shelf, leaving the woman free to cross her arms just beneath the swell of exposed bosom her robes accentuated.

Even in weariness, she retained her grace. That was never forgotten.

"That much is manageable." Pfifer offered softly with a tilt of her chin directed at where his worries lingered. Flesh could be sculpted, changed, and inevitably, renewed for purposes other than vanity. If he wished to appear as another individual, it wasn't beyond her capabilities to recreate his person beyond mere mending kisses. But, selfishly, she didn't want her partner to appear as anyone else. While love wasn't so shallow that it would fade due to his deformities, the woman certainly didn't expect to deal with an entirely foreign entity taking Leon's place. Their bargain was eternal, but a pact between their couple didn't make her a lap dog, and this wasn't negotiable. "I can renew your appearance to some extent. Minimal scarring, removal of the damaged tissue..." Pausing, her arms lowered so she could make further indication towards that alteration of his eye socket and it's surrounding area.

"I might not be able to fix your eye. I'm not sure. What anchors that malignancy to you isn't something I'm familiar with, and for all my capabilities, I fear there would be a chance you could be harmed." Pfifer cleared her throat quickly to keep her composure, as such a thought immediately tugged at her heartstrings with a harshness she often reserved for hatred and other less savory emotions. What she felt for Leon was a new and overwhelming sense of devotion, and it was taxing to juggle among her other thoughts. A weight on her heart, heavily impeding her ability to stay rational. Such sway it had over her opinions now, it was stifling, and at times, she hated herself for every laying eyes on the creature before her. If she had been smart about her motives, neither of them would have met, and there would be no harm to either.

But without that pain, what did either really have to show for their lives?

Could Pfifer ever return to simpler times, even without Leon in the picture? Of course not. Her bed was made. It was where she was lying when Leon took her up on her offer to risk a chance encounter, and though it wasn't so comfortable on it's own, his presence warmed it's sheets. Love seemed so simple. It came like a cold breeze, quick and unseen. Yet, it didn't bother leaving when their libidos had calmed and their wits had returned. A slave to the feeling, she practically winced at how he mentioned 'perhaps' in his attempt to calm her. Perhaps was a broad, roundabout way of saying it could go either way-- But there was no other way. Leon didn't understand their dilemma any more than he fully grasped what past events triggered these changes in him. It was best Pfifer kept her distance then so not to shake him awake from his dreaming commentary about possibly not succeeding.

Pfifer did not fail. Not then, not ever. Failure was never an option.

"Stop." Turning, Pfifer began to pace with feather light steps over the flooring. Her robes, with their exposing cut, danced around pale curves to offer peeks at that shapely figure. One couldn't be ashamed of themselves in any regard if they sought to be truly great. Vanity wasn't something she pondered over; she simply embodied it. "Do you remember where this occurrence took place? Ideally, we could venture out when you've regained your strength... And if there was proof of this sealed door, it should remain as it was, shouldn't it? That will be our course of action in that regard." Again finding herself needing to clear her throat, the blonde mage seemed fixated on thoughts unspoken. There would be a moment or two pause to her pacing, though it would be broken with a quick nod.

"But we can revitalize your body... Yes. If we move our operations to Gloamwood during the full moon, there is room to work there, and I'm more than willing to take on the task." Her bedroom loft wasn't enough space, and the lunar cycle had a strange effect over her brand of magic. Why not magnify her abilities to their fullest extent for his benefit? There was no harm in trying this method, though it really depended on his willingness. Something of a dark chuckle escaped the woman as she made an about face. "Would you fuck me to save your looks?" Such a question didn't need answering, but in light of their current circumstances, any attempt at humor wasn't unappreciated. If anything, it made coping all the more easy to do. "Better yet, would you fuck me in the moonlight to complete a ritual to save your looks?" A hand was brought to run one of her digits against her bottom lip as attempt to draw away from her smirk.

"If you trust me, I will see us through this. Even if you don't trust me, Leon, I will not fall to such simplistic means as an Inquisition. They will see their mistakes in time, but for now, I am willing to correct yours."

---

Oblivion [closed] - Kat - 09-19-2015

[/img]"http://i.imgur.com/JZBd50w.png" style="avatar" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]Pfifer had never been very good at avoiding the obvious, and while her companion's state of attire hadn't been mentioned at any point in their conversation, that hadn't removed watchful azure hues from his figure. Leon was virile and vibrant, even with those new scars marring otherwise perfect skin. Vision dragged slowly along his torso, to the curvature of sculpted muscles and the paleness of exposed flesh. Sometimes the other Elf made it difficult to focus, though one wouldn't catch on to any lapse in her attention, as the woman knew work always trumped pleasure. A pity though. When he was standing in that half staggered slump, investigating damages to a once pristine shell, her heart seemed to ache. Holding him wouldn't necessarily mend such blights to Leon's figure, but Pfifer expected it would aid in calming that racing mind of his. Eyes were raised from their situated session when he met her gaze, and with his words of explanation, there was a moment of pause to assess stenciled onyx veins radiating from Leon's corrupted ocular.

"If it hides, there must be reason for it to hide." While she wouldn't make any claims on being an expert in this particular field, Pfifer was a student of many magicks, and several of which were considered forbidden arts. Such distinguishing marks often meant there was something to worry about-- But what if the source of their mutual angst didn't wish to be found beneath levels of Leon's psyche? Pfifer couldn't simply drag the intrusion from her beau's body. No, there would need to be great care taken for his state of being, even if he seemed to return to a state of normality with every passing breath. One did well not to let their guard down, even if it meant being wrong. Better to be overly prepared, honestly. "But with this isolation, there is less chance for interference... I wish only to grant you a sense of understanding, Leon. We are walking a fine line between safety and harm, but if I didn't think this was important to our cause, I wouldn't suggest it."

Trailing off as Leon closed the gap between their two figures, familiar hands were given access to her delicate hold, and Pfifer gave a smile. The sort of smile that spoke volumes of her appreciation. To have him close, to feel that presence he so willingly shared with her, it was almost enough to silence any sense of demand their current predicament sought from them. Irrevocably obsessed and eager to show such devotion, the woman's digits curled against his grasp so they were intertwined in steeple fashion. The kiss to the back of her palm only widened the acceptance of her lips, expression warmer than most were ever given privilege of witnessing from Pfifer. That was what she could give her lover; the core of an otherwise mysterious series of motives. With him, she too was free, and she didn't wish to forget such luxuries were available in Leon's wake.

"Don't fret, Precious. We will weather any storm we face." An embrace followed the commentary, and within that heated hold, Pfifer set her chin against bare shoulder and sighed softly. Not always was the witch so frigid, so cold, so distant. No, not always. Certainly not in such a welcomed caress, with tantalizingly warm air teasing the ridges of her tipped ear. Something in his vocals brought her body to life, and whether she be a puppet or pawn to his commands, she wasn't bothered. The Elven mage only knew lust as it occurred-- A swell of sensations rising from the space where stocking covered thighs parted. Ah, was he being obvious, or was Pfifer reading too much into the gestures? Her mouth parted over his battered throat, and lightly, teeth sank into the expanse of neck available. Just a nibble, with straight incisors careful not to cause him pain. Idly, her tongue slid against the captured palette for a taste of what she had been missing. It was well within her right to do so.

Had she been a weaker woman, their trip could have been postponed. Alas, poor libido, she was not. Leon would be released from adventuring teeth so the woman tight to his front was able to speak, though his groin would receive no reprieve from subtle gyrations. How her robes were cut left very little to the imagination, but that sort of clinging thinness acted only to taunt the male. He couldn't have her then, with only the barest hint of resistance acting as a barrier between two willing forms, and that must have been hell unto itself. How cruel Pfifer could be as one of her hands dropped to waist level to place her palm right over the source of his arousal, rubbing in time with her next message over the outline of Leon's cock.

"Once we start, you must know we cannot stop until the ritual has finished..." Smirking, her lids narrowed deviously while that intrusive hand continued stroking at his length through ragged armaments. Such was her way, after all. To keep him wanton. Hungry. Savage in his seeking. To what extents he would go to keep Pfifer at his side, she wasn't entirely sure, but there was no question towards how quickly she could work him into a state of hedonism. That's what she wanted from him; absolute enthrallment. Whether this would always be the case had yet been decided, but the blonde femme felt it best to trust in their arrangement. Leon had asked for her faith, and now it was given in more ways than words could attest to. "Do you wish to leave tonight?"

Questions would always arise concerning their future path, but these inquiries were of no concern to the creature coaxing reactions from her lover. Her mind was better used for plotting, for scheming, and inevitably, for solutions to those unforeseen problems their pair would ultimately face. Wasn't it fitting that her partner in these actions was also the one she was now bound to? By blood and magic, by promises made in love stained sheets. By the void. Inhaling through her nostrils, Pfifer began to pull away from Leon, though he would notice her hesitation in doing so. "A portal can take us if you'd like to hurry the process." Her voice dropped to the barest whisper as her offer continued, "If you would like to fuck me tonight... I would never keep you waiting longer than was absolutely necessary."

---

Oblivion [closed] - Kat - 09-19-2015

[/img]"http://i.imgur.com/JZBd50w.png" style="avatar" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]A moan was inevitable as those familiar teeth found flesh craving his attention. Every touch, every caress of skin from the fellow, and Pfifer was reminded of that connection. Her body was starved for his adoration, and perhaps it showed in the expression she gave when space had been made between them. A divide in the lines meant weakness. Why couldn't they simply find a home in their sheets with lips and tongues hungrily working to capture accompanying affections? Slowly one of her hands would raise to appraise this newest bite, digits padded against the tender marring. Leon would ruin her if she allowed him to. There was no question of this. It was just how, and when, such an occurrence took place for their doomed pairing, and such looming expectations weighed heavily on her psyche. Unable to grasp the concept of losing Leon, perhaps it was best her concerns didn't meet his ears. After all, the duo had a plethora of unresolved issues to tackle before they dwelt on distant possibilities.

Demands made in lustful tones caused the air to catch in her throat. Something in the way his nostrils flared and his gaze intensified left Pfifer all the more hesitant to step away. Slowly, very slowly, she made progress to back step, and when her rear was met with the bookshelf, that hold over the mage was lessened incrementally. In Leon's presence, one needed to be careful not to succumb to the pull of needs and desires. After all, had she not created this beast within him? That wanton, desperate creature lurking beneath pools of blue, undressing her even while her posture straightened to that proper decadence. At times, Pfifer stood with an almost inhuman grace; regal without the garnish. It helped to impose her commanding aura on others, as well as send clear messages regarding her intentions. With her beau, she had been blunt. Painfully so.

Their union was no coincidence. No stars aligned for such a bastardized pact. No, only one woman with ambitions far beyond her appearance could construct such a devious thread of events. A smirk met her lips as she spoke, words a delicate trill of warm vocals. "Then you will have me in the moonlight, and you will be restored." With that, the buxom blonde turned from her partner and led the way down the alcoved stairwell, back towards where they had entered the home. This shell of her humanity, decorated in tomes and texts, it reflected enough of the High Elf to give vague impressions she was well read. If nothing else, a collector of strange baubles and trinkets. One would be hard pressed to gleam more from a scanning of the dim indoors, but Pfifer never took guests in this place, and needn't had reasons to explain herself.

This had been Pfifer's private sanctuary. Now, it was a shared venue for herself and Leon to meet without watchful eyes keeping tabs. No one else could find them here, and while the rest of the world was set to fixate and question this bond the two shared, their inquiries wouldn't breach the dark manor. As her steps breezed them through the hall, the woman stopped near the entrance and motioned for Leon to stand his ground, as there were supplies to be gathered. In such, she moved back the way they came and spent some moments collecting the necessary works citing ways to partake in this particular ritual. Ceremonial dagger, Gnar bone marrow, a bit of twilight bloom roots. Here and there, bits of the whole would be sought, and eventually tucked within a canvas satchel slung over her shoulder. Where it hung, one could tell it had a great deal of materials situated in it's clutches, but of what greater purpose they served would remain a mystery for absentminded outsiders to ponder over.

Such was her way.

Pfifer would return with her satchel, eyes settled over Leon where he had been left to wait, and she made a motion for progress with directional tilt of her chin. There was nothing left for them here. "As I am slave to your demands, let's not waste any more time here. Gloamwood isn't hard to travel to, but it's also more populated than it should be... We'll need to be quick. Cautious."

A hum followed the warning, throaty with a soft lulling quiver as she brought a set of manicured digits through the air. Fingers signed the space, a crackle of static surging while the vacuous groan of rift energy parted a tendriled maw for the Elves to pass through. Obsidian lashers darted in their serpentine corruption, malformed visages hissing while snapping ethereal teeth every which way, though the woman seemed oblivious to such monstrosities. Too familiar with them to take heed. The vortex started small, barely larger than what hole a fist could sock free from drywall, but it expanded over a few seconds until it engulfed much of the foyer with deathly transparent energy.

Both knew this sort of passaging well enough to go alone, but Pfifer extended a hand towards Leon all the same. In this, she guided him in time with her steps, casting both of their figures through the warped porticulum, which bent while they entered-- Enough to pressure the void into snapping closed when they were safely within. There, they were met with the blackest abyss, where even Leon's unnatural glow seemed snuff like a candle after midnight. Their bodies didn't so much stay still as they did drift, but it was all sped along through a passage of time the unascended of Telara would never be gifted enough to experience. Pfifer wasn't one to gloat, but it was in her methods that she boasted superiority; magic granted her such advantages. She would be a fool to forget that. More foolish yet to dwell over what sort of superiority she harbored. There was a time and place for everything, after all.

In a heartbeat, both Leon and Pfifer would be set flatly in moss covered encampment near goblin ruins, bodies incredibly close with hands tightly interlocked. How she held him was affectionate in some light, but also shamelessly possessive. If this wasn't love, then what was?

"There is a clearing not far from here." Stormy hues peered through the fog of the forest before returning to her companion's portrait. "The sky will be clear there, and there should be room for the ritual..." Pfifer let the smirk return at thoughts of rutting and howling within the embrace of the treeline, though it would seem subtle in the darkness; a devious secret she needn't address.

---

Oblivion [closed] - Kat - 09-19-2015

[/img]"http://i.imgur.com/JZBd50w.png" style="avatar" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]The topic of sin interested her.

"Are we not all expected to sin?" She asked from where she was, bent at the waist and curious. Her features peeked just beyond the scaffolding, down to the show floor covered in specimen displays. A peculiar place as any, the tubes and vials all labeled with names and dates; arrivals times. As they had once lived, so had each of these creatures died, and in her youth, Pfifer questioned what reasoning the good doctor had for his research. "To live is to sin."

The chuckle he gave was infectious. Much like the specimens. Much like the focal point of this research. A truly terrible sound, regardless the magnetism it rekindled in her lower abdomen. A toxic mistake. "Sin is a creation of man. Not the Gods, not the Vigil- just the common, every day man." His hands were now quick when they met her features, palms to cheeks, warm. A slow movement. "These beings do not sin. They have no ties left to mankind. More beast that human, really... I'm sure you know beasts cannot sin."

"So I've been told." The mage exhaled deeply through her nose, turning outward as a means to shake the hands and the doctor's attention. "But what of their purpose? If they're simply animals, what good are they doing us?"

"Labor. The intensive kind. Mindless, grueling work that no pretty High Elf like yourself would want to do..." A smirk made his appearance more sinister than she had once thought it to have been. "So they will be made, grown, stored, and then sold. Like cattle. Like machines. Like all the modern conveniences you often find useful in your everyday life... Why? Do you find yourself seeing more than creatures in those cages?"

"No." she said softly, admittedly unsympathetic with the beings transformed by the doctor. His samples were dead ones. She had yet been shown what the live ones were like. "I was just curious how one such as yourself became so immersed in the act of defilement."

"Oh?" He inquired, letting his expression slip briefly. "Defilement?"

"Haven't you taken what the Gods created, and completely transformed it? This isn't what was intended.." The hands at her cheeks were lowered, finding Pfifer's throat in a resting embrace. No pressure. "I mean no disrespect-"

"I don't expect you to understand my work." Both seemed impossibly still, statues overlooking the hall of shaping. "I really don't. You have come a long way from your native Telara to learn an art few truly have the stomach for. I breathe life into these beings because they are otherwise mere husks. Listless, boring Brevanians with nothing guiding their motives or actions but the whispers of Crucia. If they want to be puppets, I will make sure they have no strings to hold them down..." Hands would release the captive throat to fall limp at the doctor's side. "So, the Gods long ago left this place if they're willing to let my 'defiling' commence."

Pfifer didn't answer for some time. What fear she harbored was thrumming quivering cords of her heart like a harpist plucking a shaky tune. "But you know how to heal? To mend?"

"That is what I do best, Ms. Rhodion. I'm a doctor, after all."


"My love, we have arrived. How will we start the ritual?"

Pfifer Rhodion allowed herself to return her wandering attention span towards the happenings in the clearing; familiar fingers bringing her scantily clad form closer to the other Elf. The two seemed to compliment one another, and though Leon was taller by several inches, she never considered herself a lesser to her mate. It was, in some ways, a mutual partnership- though there were times one needed to take the reins and lead. Expected behavior when part of a duo. Still, she was worried in that distant way. The fact Leon was able to move on his own was astonishing in it's own right, but long ago, the Mage had learned to silently question everything when it gave her reason to doubt. As long as her partner was well, and capable, his condition wasn't a pressing matter. At least now, given their new location, she could begin mending his outer deformities as a means to speed up the process.

"With fire and with blood." Her voice was a whisper, but it spoke volumes of intention- of why the two were where they stood, protected beneath the magically imbued shielding Leon had created. The night was quiet. Explanation was a story within a story, though she would choose brevity under these circumstances. Even while held, she was removing her gloves; long fingers as pale as the moonlight stretching with the motion. "I will grind the ingredients into a powder, and burn it. The act itself shouldn't take more than a moment or two..." Already trailing off to gather supplies, the woman broke away from Leon with a throaty purr before standing mere feet away, mortar and pestle pulled from her bag. She sank low to the grass, robes riding high on seemingly bare skin beneath; continuing to tease their spectator without pause.

"The smoke will fill the clearing... Or, in this case, your containment spell?" Her strangely glowing hues sparked between tending to crushing herbs, and bouncing upwards along Leon's figure. "Were you so worried we would be found? Or were you afraid I would run?" Such thoughts brought a smile upon Pfifer's visage, contrast to the dark ritual their pair worked to accomplish under the otherwise open sky. Her way was one of opposing moods and quiet revelry. Business as usual. Treading a fine line between seriousness without humor, and an almost intoxicating brand of mischief she seemed to exude with every pleased expression. Components readied after a few moments, the Elf settled onto her knees to begin sprinkling a dusted circle to outline where the magic boundaries lay. Palm to the end, she rested in flat in the trail just long enough to set a spark to the raw materials, and then pulled back her fingers to blow away the remnants that clung.

Around them, the circle of fire whooshed to life. Warm, encompassing, and in may ways, just as insurmountable as the barrier it paralleled.

Remaining on her hands and knees, Pfifer's head slowly rolled on her shoulders while she mentioned offhandedly, "Now, we start the ritual on our knees. The Gods have always been quite fond of this method of worship... Though, should you wish to play coy, I can make believe for your benefit." A set of bare digits sat at her hip, grasping the veil of garment to tug achingly slow upwards. Exposing a fair thigh and the hinted curve of her ass, the woman added quietly, "Try not to act so dour, Leon. Magic can be fun, you know."

---

Oblivion [closed] - Kat - 09-19-2015

Never once had the female High Elf genuinely complained about her partner's behavior in concern with possessiveness. The two seemed entirely enthralled with one another, and through their evenings of tantric exploration and forbidden sin, one would be safe presuming the pair had found their place within the presence of their counterpart. So they would be then, so shall they remain until the seas dried and the skies were nothing more than ash upon a charred and barren landscape. There was death in the cards- a choked world stifled while riding the back winds of their plans. Of Pfifer's plans specifically. Neither would make it out unscathed, but selfishly, the woman wished their duo to coast through the trials mostly intact. If by some demonic grace they succeeded in this, there would be cause for celebration. Until then, the whole ordeal with the Inquisition left an awful taste in her mouth.

The taste of defeat. The taste of lost time. The taste of silent judgement and inevitable disappointment.

Slinking through the dewy grass on all fours, she moved only to adjust the applications set into play. For the ritual, and for their safety, and in light of Leon's injuries, for good luck. Bones and bark carved effigies, scrawled with words in a tongue abandoned. Promises for those far too impetuous, and keen to suck down knowledge any way it would be had. Those like Pfifer, with their smirking lips and their sashaying hips, and diminished, their need to succeed so not to fall victim to the comforts of the complacent. This was Pfifer's life- all tricks and traps and secret rituals performed to ward the path least chosen. To protect what she owned. With Leon, there was going to be more than simple problems with minor solutions. There was emotional attachment she hadn't planned to carry, but extra weight wouldn't deter her from the ultimate goals. No. If anything, this was a test. A passable, reasonable test that would do little but strengthen her skills.

Honed, she was ready. Her body pulsed with energy while rough hands dragged her back through the cold of the ground. Testily, her digits gripped at blades of grass while her eyes seemed to spark static currents through the surrounding thicket. Alight with a presence unlike her own. The individual in Pfifer ceased to be; replaced by the collective. As words began to stream through her parted lips, the woman's features bowed slightly, directed towards the patch of earth harboring her body. Incantations were made, hissed at times, her attention only half captive to the feeling of the other Elf removing his clothing. Shed layers discarded, exposed skin tantalizing and near... All the while, they seemed to dance a fine line between Telara and Tartarus. The circumference of the fire didn't hide her flaring aura, nor did it seem interested in vacuuming inwards towards their joining figures. Instead, it rose to lap heated waves against Leon's barrier, perhaps testing the magic containing it's fury.

With her ass bared, and Leon moving in between her thighs, Pfifer murmured a very soft collection of praise. Spit slick fingers caressed her slit, saliva mingling with the trail of excitement she exuded for the other mage. How wet she was for him, and oh, how wanton she could be as she lowered shapely hips ever so slightly when long fingers dipped between her folds enough to ignite that ghost of desire bound to haunt their couple. It wasn't that he touched her, but how he did this, with hands graceful and bold; with fingers sharp and sincere and brutal. His intellect made him delectable to the woman, but his dominance solidified her appreciation for Leon. Since they first met, Pfifer had longed for no other, and even when he crawled back to her on his belly like a beheaded serpent from the garden of legend, she wouldn't dismiss him. This one wasn't an oath breaker- Pacts were kept, and promises were cemented in the bedrock of her understandably shaky foundation.

Pfifer's word was her remaining notions of civility and order. Of a life she had otherwise forsaken without a second thought.


"ܐܣܝܐ
ܙܘܘܓ
ܣܗܕܐ ܚܢܢ ܫܠܡ "

Having not run, this was fate, and in this vein of whimsical thought, she almost lost her attention to distant philosophies. Almost. Then there was guidance, her legs further parted while her companion edged himself inwards. A body coiled, his cock was engulfed in kneading undulations that gave no pause, nor held any mercy. She was expanded, her inner walls forming around the girth of his sex like there was no other expectation to future encounters. Only he fit, and she would have no sub par replacement playing surrogate to the real thing. Leon earned a moan, low and long, between her feverish whispers; in tandem with quenched ligature enveloping his shaft. All the way to the base she rode, stopped only by her ass cheeks coming to spread at the barest wisps of pubis and pelvic warmth. The magic would anchor there, an ethereal channel forgettable in lieu of their carnal decadence. An after thought.

In this process, Leon would feel patches shifting; skin rekindled at damaged nerve endings. Regeneration, Regrowth. Slow, creeping energy harnessed through the smaller physique as it fed torrents of spiritual flux to the ex-Inquisitor. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling. If anything, it was comforting in the way it numbed the mind and slowed the reactions of the two in their hidden glade- but it was natural. A sharing of essence through an already forged channel- their soul streams were better described as a multi-lane highway. Pfifer would bring him to climax eventually, but until doing so, they were traveling this path together. As they were meant to be, despite all that had and would transpire. In the greatest unknowns, at least there was this for them to cling to. To protect and to cherish. However dark and dismal it may seem from the outside, this was home.

"ܗܘܿܒܵܐ
ܙܘܓ
ܣܗܕܐ ܢܢ ܫܠܡ"

And so she chanted under her breath, through a distinct focal point of the forceful figure straddling her rear, with both hands pulling at turf and scorched greenery. The heat rose and funneled through the topmost portion of the barrier, but there was no question of their encompassing location, given how quickly her skin wore a sheen of sweat. Still, the mage wasn't at all thrown off. If honest about the conditions, Pfifer would admit finding her hungering partner's thrusts to be almost too good for any claims of assistance to be made. What she helped him do was a task neither argued necessity over, yet both claimed was priority. His greed and his vanity, her lust and her craven desires- these were the first and foremost matters in need of attending to. Whether their hedonism was inherent to their oath or not, it didn't matter. All that mattered then was the sensation of flesh overtaking flesh. Surmounting savagery. Pfifer quivered against Leon's base in their semblance of pause, waiting.

How cruel he was to make her wait, but she was a patient woman in this regard. A trained and eager woman, among other things. His woman. His property. Captured, kept, and never free- 'til death do they part.

---

Oblivion [closed] - Kat - 09-19-2015

[/img]"http://i.imgur.com/JZBd50w.png" style="avatar" style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;]Leon needed no answer to his question.

That arrogance was not forgotten in their passions, though it was, at times, something the mage found intoxicating- she wanted that ego all to herself. His pomp, his cockiness, his incredulous demeanor. Pfifer was drawn to this man for reasons other than fate and circumstance. She genuinely craved the sociopath buried beneath a once altruistic shell. She had broken him free from what good he clung to, and had taken all there was to take in terms of support. His brothers had abandoned him to the seductive unknown, and he loved her more than any other was capable of doing. Leon was Pfifer's conquest; the prize she was awarded in the midst of a blood feud older than most who still dwelt in the plane housing Telara. Her captive who held the reins only in show, and deserved no less than the inevitable despair she brought upon their linked heads.

Misery loved company.

Their bindings tightened with an elasticity of countless bands drawing them close to one another. In this state, Pfifer couldn't speak more than the barest utterances, and such words were meant to be incantations. Leon, in his greed, was interrupting. It simply wouldn't do to have him talking while her taut and craven sex hugged his girth so tensely. Among the magicks, the smoke and the sweat, Pfifer was dripping along the other Elf's thighs, smearing her affections as they oozed messily between them. A bend of her back fed into a forceful shove, basing his cock without any pause. Her body would quiver, the hum of electric intensity spiking through the enclosure like a storm possessed the woman. It left the blonde gasping, her heart thundering in the cage of her chest while normally blue hues seemed alight with amber radiance. When her eye lids flickered, and her lips hastily paused their words, so too did their joined figures receive a momentous surge of power.

Pfifer would be the first to buckle, her body dropping forward so only shaky elbows were left propping up her still clothed torso. Gossamer ripped audibly, tattered and trashed by the sharp movements, leaving her breasts to spill from the remnants of her robe. Nature had a way of enhancing their act, the open beyond their shielded bubble as dark and twisted as the two it housed rutting in it's clearing. Pfifer had never been fucked on the ground before, so with each violent thrust sent to impose Leon's length upon her constricting sex, the woman found herself taking note of the scenery. There was appeal in what threats resided beyond their field of vision; a quiet whisper of deviance that seemed unique to the couple. Such thoughts hardly had room to blossom in the grove of Pfifer's psyche, but in the same fashion a strong wind might blow through on a summer day, the barest passing of the idea was enough to knit her inner workings into a frenzy.

Every inch punished her.

It wasn't inherently cruel to be taken so savagely by her partner, but Leon gave no hint of working that strained orifice any less than he was, and the toll was great on Pfifer. He would only quicken while craving her cunt, demanding more from his whispering concubine until she was engulfed in an overwhelming aura of desire that started as the smallest irritation in the pit of her stomach. Teasing, the sensation swelled and grew until the petite mage shook in her knees, furthering that needy collective of inner workings to envelope Leon's cock. He was swallowed in her wanton, coated and molded around so the hugging walls of her stretched hole were impossibly restrictive. A cock too big for poor Pfifer- yet she took it all without a complaint. Such a good girl she was, quivering as undulating muscles shuddered in attempt to coax a climax from the male.

Hers was a wicked release; she cried out his name when she came all over the head of his cock.

No text she read ever demanded such worship from the conduit of power, yet she was the most devout creature Leon could hope to claim, going above and beyond to mend his injuries. What they accomplished in the flames, with their bodies smothered in otherworldly fire that couldn't seem to catch, was beyond the typical Telaran's capabilities. Ascension had stirred a great deal of potential in Pfifer, and such was paired with the woman's vast knowledge of the arcane- the planes were damned, should plans follow through. The old gods would devour this land while the mages watched their progress from dimensions away. Leon was her weapon, but beyond this, he was her lifeline. The anchor that kept the woman from being entirely consumed by a darkness that existed before the birth of man, or the rise of their gods.

"Give it to me-" Such words came on the waves of her orgasm, alabaster cheeks now flushed with color while Leon smacked the bared flesh of her ass. The ripples brought a tinge of pain in time with a pulse of pleasure. How she writhed for him then, grinding and desperate to saturate his cock with the juices he had worked so hard to earn. Her love was vicious, and even in this state of euphoria, she wanted him just as vulnerable as she was. To be broken so she could rebuild from his stripped and ragged remains, that was what she wanted then; he needed to cum. The hunger she harbored refused to wane. Her greed was just as prevalent as Leon's, if not more so, as her spasming cunt milked and kneaded the High Elf's cock. She would drive him past the point of doubt- she was his salvation. No matter how carnal, no matter how monstrous.

There was no room for holding back when she demanded his compliance. No, she would take him then without a second thought. "Release." An order, clearly stated. She owned him, and whether he would admit this or not, she knew in her heart of hearts. Such was love embedded in the core of malignancy. She would die to protect him, even if it meant killing them both. Psychotic, unhealthy love the duo had forged in the fires of Hell, piles of bodies paving the way. The horror of their love was beautiful and terrifying. Far too intense for anyone else to appreciate, but if Leon had wanted to be free of Pfifer, he never would have taken her offer to follow her home all those months beforehand. This was their life. Their grave.

Eternity would come too soon.

---

RE: Oblivion [closed] - Kat - 10-13-2015


Pfifer moved for no man like she did for Leon, be it to bend or to bow; the woman would not break due to their embrace. Her fragility was all in her dainty appearance. A show for those less informed to be misled, as she could appear to be prey and hunt with greater success. The unsuspecting often struggled the least, too caught off guard by the shift to put up anything one would constitute as a real fight. Even in their size difference, and in how Leon's hands could wrap and pin the woman's features to the turf, the aura around Pfifer crackled and expanded with each panted breath she stole. Always present, the abyss clung to her limbs and hugged her torso, a wash of ancient horror unseen by the untrained eye. An aura meant to consume. How she treated the union between herself and Leon related heavily to just what could be done with his aid. Their first nights together were proof enough of this, and how she had begged to hear his words was borderline shameful- she wanted to know where his loyalty lingered. Had she persuaded him, or did their love truly ignite a fire that burned painfully across the path of their respective pasts?

There was no slack in her stance, even when held face down in the grass, her bare torso taut to the sponge of greenery while an expression of eager passion waned. Leon was coming up from his nadir, and with each new surge of energy coursing through the duo, Pfifer's faculties shined even brighter in the bitter darkness of their clearing. The ritual smelled of sage, of the death flora and the remains of the fauna, of the lingering spirits and their residual memories. Pfifer only focused on the smoke and the scent of Leon's skin, her body forming as arc beneath the other High Elf's figure so she could accommodate the deepening thrusts even while held so viciously below. Muscles strained to take the pounding of his cock, her insides a mesh of twisting, writhing ligature all looking to milk the male's member for every drop of his seed. She had earned his favor, and in such, deserved to be treated as his possession.

A prize for the fallen Inquisitor.

Of all the things Pfifer felt for her companion, pity refused to register. They had come too far to fall back into the pain and the heartache associated with how the council had tortured him. It was beyond physical wounds; those healed relatively quickly. Instead, Leon was left knowing what family he was part of over the course of many years abandoned him as a lost cause. Trash to be hauled off to the curb. They had meant to end the male before he was given a chance to truly begin- to exist beyond the constraints of moral entrapment. Pfifer couldn't sit by and allow this bastion of potential to be squandered by the self righteous sheep of the Vigil's light. Almost diabolical that they might attempt to kill Leon as a way to retain what little control they actually possessed- but they had learned their lesson when taking the bull by it's horns.

Always make sure there's only one bull.

Where their hips met, and the space between her parted thighs, was dripping and expressive of just what sort of mess Leon intended to make of Pfifer. His wicked grin was met by her parted lips whimpering in time with the tightening of her cunt; the muscles seemed to strangle his girth as a means to aid his wanton. Each push received praise, with the woman's lashes fluttering as her body rocked with the enduring effects of her previous orgasm. Still quaking and locked at her knees, her bent over position was ensured by Leon's manhandling, though she preferred it when he was rough with the mage. She needed to feel every inch straining her tight cunt, and whether he demand things when he growled, or whisper his excitement at the lobe of her ear, Pfifer hungered for the physical dominance her partner possessed.

It was because of this that he possessed her. There was no question of her loyalty.

Robes forced to bunch at her midsection, she wondered if they would be intact by the time Leon had finished pumping her hungry cunt with his seed. The closer the male came to his climax, the tighter Pfifer seemed to become in anticipation for such a thing; she wanted to please Leon. If nothing else, she would be the release for his stress, and the conduit for his desires. All she asked in return for her loyalty was trust- she had many great plans, and they relied heavily on the bond the two mages had formed in secret. If not for their affections, Pfifer would never had thought to form any such alliance with the likes of an Inquisitor. She didn't think herself a fool, and only fool's put their trust in those who feared them... But Leon was an exception.

The only exception.

Perhaps it was best she succumb to another series of body wracking spasms, her figure slamming back as best it could against Leon's so her ass cheeks were pushed enticingly across the base of his cock. His groin was smeared in her adoration, her words struggling through the ragged breathing as the barrier surrounding them was destroyed by Leon's release of excess energy. The forest would howl, and the sounds of those startled, or wounded, could be heard just as Pfifer's moans became sensual. How she cooed in time with his thrusts, the bursts of cum filling her desperate orifice to the brim, but she seemed accepting; the mess was theirs to share in making. Only when he seemed to ease, dragging his teeth against the alabaster flesh of her neck, did Pfifer blink through the haze of arousal to stare out towards the decimated wood line.

Throat muscles instinctively shifted as the woman swallowed through the grip around her vocals to comment softly, "You seem to be feeling better... But I think it's best we leave this place before we draw any more attention."

---

RE: Oblivion [closed] - Kat - 01-05-2016

Once, she would watch the swallows fly south when the seasons changed, and though the brisk weather left Pfifer longing for the familiar warmth of summer, she never complained. It wasn't in her nature to cause a stir. The fussing done could be done on her behalf by others, but her independence started early. Years before meeting with the great ancients, she was a woman of few words and a practiced smile. The lesson taught came from humble beginnings, but recited the same way no matter who ushered the words. Even then, as she rose from the deviance caused for the good of her companion's state of being, it remained true. Her lips twitched ever so slightly before the pair vanished through the miasmic portal, finding the winds cold and the air particularly dry.

"Some things can never change."

Eyes closed for the journey, she didn't wish to see the vast expanse of the slipstream. She knew of the rifts, and of the endless possibilities for planes. Dimensions and pocket dimensions, countless options for hiding and plotting and escaping- but none she had taken to using. Her roots were in Telara, among the folk too fearful to speak her name, because those were who would receive the full extent of her wrath. Quietly, she assembled what was needed. Slowly, she drew the plans for exacting revenge. With every season to pass, she grew closer. Pfifer would bide her time until time dictated things would go exactly as planned. There was no room for error - she had already made enough mistakes to last her this lifetime, and the next.

The air was warmer here against her bared skin, though the remains of her robes seemed alive against the alabaster flesh. Stitchings reseamed themselves, and bit by bit, the fabric was mended and tended to without even the slightest effort from the mage wearing the cloth. By the time Leon had issued a kiss, Pfifer was once more pristine, with her bright blue hues searching the premises of the home. She hadn't been here before, to this place her lover now presented her with, and an almost hesitant step was taken towards the doorway. "Where are we?" Asked as though she didn't truly know, the question would hang in the air for several moments whether Leon intended to answer or not. When comfortable in her new attire, the woman journeyed further away from her partner to continue investigating this manor.

Pfifer had never been keen on surprises. She expected order, and reason. She expected calculation amid chaos. This location was nothing she agreed to. Her lips pursed and her nostrils flared ever so slightly before she crossed the threshold of the home. It was quiet, at the very least. Having seen the pools in the distance, vast ponds of highland variety, she gathered they were in Moonshade. No sight or sound of outsiders had crossed her thoughts, but that didn't mean much. They could wander this way if they wanted- strangers in their nest of vipers. She expelled a deep breath and furrowed her brow before continuing onwards, adamant to find the reason this was where he had taken her. To this place, unfamiliar to the mage.

"Is this your home, Leon?" Having to ask this didn't sit well with Pfifer, but she had never delved deeply into the superficial involvements Leon had been apart of prior to their pact. She didn't know of his past lovers, or friends, or of what he did within the Inquisition. She knew the important details though, and she knew what she felt, which perhaps had given the woman some sense of comfort when surrounded by Leon and his growing madness. Love was a frightening and diabolic emotion, but theirs was no different than anyone else's when it came down to the general basics. Any devoted lover would claim what the two had claimed, and their adoration was in such an early state, it was healthy to exaggerate. Of course, their extent of commitment was permanent. There would be no release from any mistakes they made with one another, besides the release true death would provide.

She kept her calm even when agitated. Pfifer was a like a great snake, serpentine still and watchful with her steps finally ceasing so a seat could be taken in the foyer. She noted books and notes, mementos in scarcity. Every bauble and trinket one would expect of a caster without all the immediate connections to loved ones they might have reminded Leon of. She noticed what he lacked, and at times, she considered how she fit into his solitary life. Changes would come for some, but for others, there would be no change. Life had a way of remaining exactly the same for those buried in their own arbitrary existences. "I'll have Juniper tea." One hand swept over her lap to smooth the creases in her robe while the other set of digits directed a wave towards where the kitchen was presumed to be.

"Lemon cakes pair well with it, as do rice wafers." Pfifer paused to look back from where she came to Leon, and added, "As you are now, I'm sure you're healthy enough to serve a guest. It's not that I wouldn't serve my self; I would. Just- well, this isn't my home, and I won't make myself cozy just yet. I have a few questions regarding this place." Running her finger tips against the visible bite mark just beneath the feathered collar of her ensemble, the mage tutted to herself. "Is this all yours, Leon? No servants or nosy neighbors?" Pfifer didn't expect he would answer incorrectly but she also didn't press further yet. She wanted tea first, for warmth, and to rest. While his body was supercharged with all that siphoned energy, her own had been drained. Fatigue gnawed at her insides and made her thoughts somewhat scattered. Again, she lingered on how quiet it was.

It made the sound of her pulse in her ears all the more aggravating.

---

RE: Oblivion [closed] - Kat - 06-01-2016

"Never think I would question your capability, Leon. I certainly wouldn't."

A place so pure of the chaos, Pfifer had almost forgotten their purpose hidden away in the tranquility of Leon's estates. Comfortably seated with her skirted legs crossed at the knee, the mage allowed the time her partner took readying the essentials for tea to simply exist. To breath long and low, her lips parted through the action as a mean to release any negative energy still clinging to her psyche. It wasn't as though she had never performed such a task before; healing was common. It was the extent of the mending that wore down her resolve, and were they left in the grassy knoll, she would remain displaced among destroyed fields and a decimated wood line.

Briefly, those piercing hues had closed in a lull amid the quiet, but as soon Leon made his return to the table with her request, Pfifer appeared completely cognizant and in control of her posture. Never did she slouch, or slump, or even waver from a picturesque pose fit for the highest seats of the royal bloodline. It was ingrained in the being Pfifer was made to be, and while Leon's roots were humble, her own were exalted within the hierarchy of Elven families all vying for territorial rule. Perhaps those attributes added heavily to the public visage the creature wore, so regal and strict; touchy at times. It couldn't be helped. One didn't shake their best qualities, nor did they bow to those deemed lessers. Hence Pfifer Rhodion wore a badge of corruption in face of the countless courts recognized by Telara, considered part of a growing problem bubbling beneath the otherwise calm surface of political and social pond.

Little did they know, Pfifer was no problem. On the contrary, she was the solution.

Absolution from the ashes of a ruined world.

"A hidden beacon?" Chuckling, the fair skinned Elf brought both hands gently around her cup and lifted it to catch the wafting aroma. A mild tea, almost lacking in scent. She nodded approvingly before setting it back down to work with the honey and sugar accompanying the beverage. Two sugars, two dabs of honey, and a wafer for the plate. The cake was decorative at the moment - best had after the first cup was savored. Quiet during the ordeal of preparing her drink, Pfifer eventually brought her sights back to the male, the faintest smile gracing painted lips. "What a good host you've been. Many thanks." With a bow of her head, Pfifer finally took a sip of the tea and had a few neat bites of the wafer before drinking once more.

"Servants are not my highest priority, though I can't say I'm terribly surprised you have none in your immediate employment. Given your missing status, the only sort that would really do would be thralls, and I know they're not quite..." Trailing off, she paused before finishing with, "hospitable to guests." That much she had witnessed first hand, though a mage worth their weight could put down a wayward thrall without batting a lash. "Followers come with each passing of the reigns. A ruler attracts followers without real struggle because sheep are easily corralled by a knowledgeable shepherd." Back to her tea, the first cup would be made short work of in time with her consumption of the wafer. Fork obtained, she moved on to the cake as she shared her thoughts, though fatigue was evident by the carefulness in which she ate.

"I stake no claim in your properties, Leon, though I appreciate being welcomed here." The digit he dragged against the bite marks brought upon another chime of laughter, the sound intoxicating and light like playful chimes in a spring wind. Nothing about Pfifer was outwardly menacing, save for the garb she chose to wear and that unsettling set of icy orbs that seemed restless most of the time. Now, as she looked upon Leon, they expressed no malice or threat. Just curiosity, settled behind a veil of indigo. "I would hope so, dear. Markings left by you belong on my skin, and if they were left by your doing, they must carry a great beauty in and of themselves." Shifting ever so slightly, the woman reached for the tea pot, and poured herself another serving for good measure. The need to replenish what was lost took precedence, despite the nagging urge to take up the offer of sleep.

"And upstairs, a bath tub?" Asked nonchalantly, Pfifer finished the lemon cake just before polishing off the last of her tea. "I couldn't bear to sleep without bathing. What sort of guest would I be if I soiled your clean sheets on the first night of my visit?" When all the dishes had been squared away and pushed back from her general vicinity, a napkin was raised to her lips to ensure not a crumb tarnished her almost statuesque appearance. Everything about Pfifer's routine seemed practiced, embedded in her motions after countless years of events and meals held in a similar esteem. Even in the privacy of Leon's home, with his walls lined with personal trophies and his dining room cozy and secluded, the mage couldn't quite relax to the extent her lover did. At least not openly.

"You did an excellent job concealing your base of operations, Leon. I hadn't realized how in need I've been of the quiet, but to be here with you as company, I'm assured things are moving in our favor." Lightly, she brought a hand to Leon's cheek to stroke lovingly. The veins distending from his seemingly damaged eye were far from forgotten, though this night wasn't the time they need speak of the peculiarities lingering in the male's features. "We've been running for weeks, haven't we? Come now, and lead me to the bath before I succumb to sleep."

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