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Carpe Noctem [closed] - Printable Version

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Carpe Noctem [closed] - Kat - 11-23-2015

[Image: FapkiZa.png]

A 1x1 between Kat && Deific.
Feel free to read along.


RE: Carpe Noctem [closed] - Kat - 12-19-2015

"We do not speak of those heresies here." An older woman ushered between sips of crimson, which painted pale lips in similar shades of lust and debauchery. Such was the color she envisioned when the once bright world darkened into eternal night, and the plane they inhabited succumbed to their most proper following. When the sun ceased to shine, humanity needed only the smallest push in their direction, as the Kindred wanted only what was best for their lessers. The Maquerade was now law. This world was theirs to rule. To maintain.

Humanity needed discipline.

The Camarilla brought Kitja Zykov to this planet for judgement, and only when she had accomplished her tasks at hand would she leave, fulfilled.

A smile wicked enough to tease the sequins and silk from the bodies of even the most pious seemed plastered to her delicate visage. "I speak only truth, Your Grace. I would never lie to you."

"But to the other Primogen you might, Lisichka?"

Kitja tutted several times before the ghost of a sultry laugh escaped her bejeweled throat. "Printsessa knows better than I, it seems. I wouldn't dream to argue with you, though think better of your Scourge in the future. How many years have I been here, watching the world around us decay?" A pause was given as the carriers of their palanquin stuttered their steps, though the two present in the box couldn't see what had them making mistakes. A distinct whine hissed through the skyline above. "You wanted decadence, and I have given it to you. You wanted peace, and there is peace here in this filth..."

The elder raised a hand and gestures outside as though referring to something beyond their reaches. "I do not doubt your allegiances, but the Masquerade does not need to be taken down. Do you trust those among us to live by a personal code, Lisichka? They would ruin more than the environment of this world. We govern for good reason, or the supplies would be drained, and there would be nothing left for us to feed from. Let the humans see us as whatever they care to see us as, but we will uphold the Masquerade. This is a court, not a circus."

"Then why do you allow clowns on the Primogen council?" Kitja's auburn brows knit as she tapped the small button on the side door closest to where she was seated. "Printsessa, you do not understand the trials the Toreador was facing-"

"Believe me, I know more than you might think." Milky eyes met Kitja's gaze as she asked, "Do you plan to leave now? Not even a ride back to court?"

"There is something going on outside I must attend to. Your grace." The hand offered was taken, and when the top had been kissed, Kitja was free to slip away into the dusky evening. It wouldn't be long until the first pod made contact with the planet, and the resonating boom jostled the creature as she moved through heavily populated streets towards the location streaming smoke into the already polluted atmosphere. The crowd watched, and she became one of these watchers, silent among Kindred and Kine, though the humans were gawking and frantic in how they looked upon the armored beast breaking free from it's shell.

A solid kick sent the door outwards, and the being soon emerged massive and heavily geared for far harsher terrains. Kitja's eyes narrowed suspiciously before she took several steps backwards into the crowd. More pods were landing, their insignia covered presences finding locations to destroy in their wake, though not quite as close by as this one had been.

"Who are they?" She asked of those Kindred near her, though their just shook their heads in their apparent shock.

RE: Carpe Noctem [closed] - Kat - 12-22-2015

Xenos.

Said like the speaker had something vile in his mouth.

His actions towards the cowering civilian sent a cold chill through Kitja; one that hadn't been felt in some time. Not quite fear, but revulsion. These despicable crest bearing men come falling down from the sky onto a planet long ago claimed by the Camarilla, throwing around obscenities they know nothing of. Xenos. The only alien in this picture was their invader, swathed in armor and cloaked in false privilege, with a body too large to be mistaken for human. The bartender would die, and those of the Kindred would stand statuesque in their decadence, with their finery on display, while their muzzled citizens stayed complacent. Obedience ingrained in their genetics, these beasts had long ago been stripped of their will to avoid situations just like this one.

The crowd would sway while watching the murder, shuddering and upset, but soon returned to that very same wall of gawking and gazing faces- all directed at the soldier.

Kitja narrowed her gaze as if attempting to understand just what this stranger wanted, but if no one else in the crowd knew, there was no expectation for information to come easily. Telepathy only made matters worse, the echo of voices belonging to the surrounding Kindred were all streaming mentally through her consciousness, confused.

'Xenos? Us?'
'But we have been here close to nine hundred years!'
'What else is there, here?'
'But we do nothing to have drawn attention!'
'-or perhaps they were summoned?'
'An Army?'
'Who is this army?'
'Someone called for them?'

Muttering a few words of disdain under her breath, Kitja's lids lowered heavily and for a moment she listened to the outside world. Those speaking in her head were silenced, or simply ignored, for the sake of time. No one in the crowd seemed to be answering the man though, silence contagious throughout- save for the wail of sharp sirens overhead as a high alert was issued. The paneled flat-walls of the city began to grind, and a few onlookers broke their attention from the male to take in the shifting of the barrier. Reopening her gaze, Kitja followed suit, but just as quickly as the woman realized what was happening, someone nearest to the back screamed, "LOCKDOWN!" and general panic ensued.

Their metropolis was massive in it's grandeur, with a high dome rising over it's Kievan Rus' architecture and Byzantium-esque towers. An alien earth, too far in the future to reflect the same places earth once boasted, but reminiscent in it's isolation. The Kindred had remembered enough of their home to build from it, though it wouldn't matter what history was restored here if this group of invaders were coming for carnage. It was the group that dispersed first, with Kitja left standing in it's frightened wake, as the high walls all encircled in lurching shutter to ensure the encasing installed would protect the city in the barricade design chosen. A partially submerged Scrith based dome shadowed an already dim setting, shutting above the main street while streets were sectioned off in accordance to zones. More sirens had sounded, their pitches an eerie cacophany of noise through which the screams of natives seemed almost pleasing as a means to break the monotony. This world was dying, inhabited by the dead, and soon to be drenched in blood.

Kitja returned her features to the stranger, her garments far too extravagant and flashy to mistaken for common, and raised one sculpted eyebrow in question.

"What have you done, Inozemets?"

RE: Carpe Noctem [closed] - Kat - 12-25-2015

Chaos didn't come subtly, though Kitja found it easier to acquiesce than to fight against the current of bodies making their way from the immediate vicinity. Cattle scared easily, after all. The Scourge of the Camarilla did not. So, when the streets were turned upside down by the the near immediate flight of frightened citizens, the woman's composure shifted only slightly to that questioning demeanor given towards the invader. Again, loud this time, Kitja found herself asking, "What have you done?" Of course, given the reaction of the populace, there was no question that the soldier was well aware of their deeds, and his smugness seemed impenetrable even when inquired upon. The city proper was soon encased in that Scrith protective barrier, cocooned, but those who managed to enter the metropolitan area were the true threat in the Camarilla's midst.

"Did you believe for a moment you would cast a shadow in the light of our city? Durak- Who sent you?" Kitja seethed her disapproval, her accent becoming thicker the angrier she grew with the stranger as residual company. Sirens wailing made it almost tedious to speak in the open of the street, but with sectors being sectioned one by one, she knew this stretch of high spires and Easter egg pastels would become quite familiar to her over the course of the evening. Was it even evening? One could never be too sure, given to location and the lack of a sun. Like many things, it had died, and much like Kitja refused to budge from her place, so too did the husk seem resistant to fade from the skyline. Even through the milky metal dome, a deceased star hovered ominously; it was almost beautiful. This city, her city, was in a similar boat. Decayed, appearing destroyed, with an eerie appeal to it's haunting structures and pale denizens.

The shot went right over her head, and Kitja didn't flinch. Instead, her face pinched while she remarked, "You think you can stop judgement, rebenok? Do you come here looking to find something specific? Xenos? There are none here. We are native- you are not." Both hands were brought up to her hair to brush back winded locks as a hawkish gaze examined the firearm. It wouldn't do much to the dome surrounding them, but it could easily blast a hole through Kindred and Kine flesh, meaning she would be wise to use more caution than she was. Still, pride had a way of manipulating an individual's priorities, and curiosity acted like kerosene. With the fire lit, there was no quick exit for Kitja. The brute lingered ever close, and her nostrils widened as the smell of smoke and blood wafted through the humid air in their direction.

Something stilled her for a second, but only a second. His hand grasped her collar, and as though she had never existed, Kitja ceased to stand in front of the male. The fragments of fabric she left behind were merely testament to her speed, and when she appeared once more standing still, it was at a greater distance than previously. "The rest of us? Why don't you tell me just why you're here, on our planet, looking for alien beings? I predate whatever genetic experiment you represent, and hail from Earth. You, creature, are the xenos." Attention was moved to rub her neck slowly, assessing the damages made to her ensemble. "You've set off security, and your men will remain behind scrith in their segmented prisons." Kitja's eyelashes flickered as she appeared to count something in her head. "How long do you think they will last without aid? You land here and what? Expect something less than a great machine?"

A trill of amusement echoed through the sector, at the crossroads of what appeared to be a town square of sorts. "You want xenos, and I tell you there are none. You kill our innocents, and I think you expect me to be intimidated. Unfortunately for you, I am not. I didn't leave Earth all those lifetimes ago just to answer vague questions from a spaceman on steroids. Otvratitel'no. You should run before the Gangrel are alerted. Flee to whatever dark hideaway you can find in this city... To us, you're little more than a rather large sheep."

RE: Carpe Noctem [closed] - Kat - 01-09-2016

Had she not seen worse, perhaps the woman would have blanched at the sight of her pursuing aggressor consume Kindred flesh, but Kitja was an elder. Her own history was smeared with similar accounts pertaining to consuming that which no creature should ever ingest. Evading the hulking male wasn't working, but she didn't cower when finally pinned; her back steadied by the wall of a local tailor. The mix of hyper futurism brought a sense of beauty to the city's old age charms, though her companion didn't seem interested in seeing the sights, and his bloodied face proved nothing but an eyesore to the Vampire. "The only prison a mortal coil suffers is that of death, and I have already escaped it's grasp." Defiantly, she tugged back her collar, even if she otherwise remained trapped between the storefront and the marine.

"If I underestimated you, I would have run farther away than a few hops across town square." Kitja flattened her jeweled palms against the fabric of her dress to smooth the crinkles his chase had caused. The material was foreign in nature, and seemed to catch the luminescence of the neighboring lights. "You have come to a world without need for your kind, so I ask this: Are you invaders?" Drawing her gaze upwards to meet the stained visage of the male, her eyes remained locked on his as she continued with, "I don't know why you're here, killing innocent people. You certainly aren't after my kind, for if you were, you would be less negligent of those caught helpless in the crossfire." Kitja needn't gesture to the destruction the stranger had caused, but she would anyway with an airy flick of her wrist.

"Is this what you have come to do?"

Thoughts for herself were muted for the time being, as she expected she would already be dead if this was the soldier true intent. Kitja instead found her concern drifting through the long winding roads feeding through the metropolis, where stacked citadel-esque housing replaced the industrial slums. If invaders were near town square, they would be elsewhere. At the museums, and opera houses. In the park and botanical gardens. Creating chaos among those more fortunate than the average citizen; destroying hundreds of years worth of history without a second thought. It felt as though her skin was crawling as she waited for an answer, her body hotter than it had any right to be as some long forgotten rage swelled beneath the surface.

"You have come to destroy this world." Her voice faltered then, the lilt wavering as she finally looked away to the space left between his massive suit and her robed figure. "For aliens, as you claim. You want aliens from those who still possess the last strains of Earth born blood. Don't you find that in the least bit ironic, neznakomets?" Kitja swallowed hard as her back pressed along the cool concrete of the building, allowing her a better view of the emblems and regalia covering the space marine. "Perhaps there is no comedy where you come from. Only tragedy to be found."

RE: Carpe Noctem [closed] - Kat - 01-09-2016

The invader had a friend, though Kitja made no suggestion that she realized this. After all, it was best she play the card of ignorance while being manhandled by the marine. "If you think I'm going to help you, you're thicker than your armor." Kitja breathed softly as her lashes fluttered and her attention shifted off towards to destruction littering the square. "You want to assault this city, and cleanse it of whatever you think might be here, and as you've told me, I'm one of these things you're after. Why would I help you?" It was obvious the Kindred had no intention of simply playing tour guide for the invader, and as his accomplice hopped across the rooftops above, her gaze narrowed when returning to the male's chiseled features.

"What else is here? There's no way I believe you've come to New Cappadocia for the sole purpose of harassing my kind. They wouldn't send an army to attack the Camarilla; our council has no enemies in this galaxy." Every time she tried to free her collar, the man's hand returned to it, and she hadn't a clue why he seemed so adamant to touch her. Perhaps that was a good sign, among all these mixed signals she received, but she wasn't so liberal that she would bank her safety on his incessant need to keep a grasp on his captive. "What if I say no? What if I refuse to help you hunt my kind? You want to know of the inhabitants, and of our world, but just so you can kill us-" Kitja paused as a dryness overcame her sense of taste. "...So you can kill me."

What anger remained pumping through her veins was ebbing, but only because the far reaches of the city were still unknown to Kitja. What was happening with the council? The primogen? The Princess? Surely not everyone ended up in such a precarious position as Kitja, though some were likely already gone. The buzz of telepathy was hazy, static-y, and harder to make out than it had been previously when there was a great mob of her kind flocked among the mortals. Now, with the initial dispersion, the Kindred found her ties stretched and distended- trailing through the city like fluttering confetti during a ticker tape parade. All that remained were out of clan, false or otherwise, and they were smart to stay hidden. Upwards in towers, or below in the sewers, blending into the strange fabric of their archaic society.

A hodge podge of the old and the new.

Kitja didn't look like she belonged outside of Earth's colonies. She looked as human as those considered cattle to her kind; it was an indistinguishable facade she wore. Aside from a paleness to her flesh and a strange illumination to her emerald hues, there was really no sign of differentiation between herself and the human presence in the city. "I won't help you kill my kind, as I am sworn to be the hand of judgement in this place, and the only voice I answer to is our Printsessa. I won't break our laws to sate your blood lust, comrade." By this time, he was holding her lifted from the ground with only the tips of her high heels skirting the pavement.

"We have done nothing wrong."

RE: Carpe Noctem [closed] - Kat - 01-09-2016

Her appeal was more than that of an attractive woman, enhanced to the point it was stifling; akin to the feeling of thirst for someone lost in the Sahara. The longer he looked at her, the more he would feel that irrational attraction, and though Kitja needn't alter her levels of presence to get such a reaction from the marine, she was aware of what she was capable of. Legends of sirens and those who called great men to their doom spoke little of how harmless these creatures seemed when captured. Kitja's ruse was that she was small and weak, and while held captive by the marine, it may have appeared such was true. It would be foolish on her part to give away secrets so early in their discussion.

"You cannot barter for my loyalty, neznakomets." He was speaking to someone else while she watched, helplessly hanging from where the massive gauntlet retained it's hold. The buzz circulating through her consciousness was still present, albeit faint, and Kitja half hoped a familiar voice would cut through the static of the voices panicking. So far, she hadn't been so fortunate, though it was a good sign that so many were still alive. Casualties were expected, but this wasn't an immediate annihilation of their kind, and for that reason, she continued resistant to the marine and his offers. "Unless you can promise Kindred sovereignty or something of that nature, I have no reason to speak up." The only interest she seemed to show was sparked by his latter question concerning other xenos available to be scapegoats for the time being.

As she felt no guilt for the great slew of crimes she had committed over the centuries, the passing of blame from her kind to another was completely within the realm of possibilities for the Vampire. Of course, she would need time to figure out just what race would be the best option for this plan. Resistance would be her only way to buy time in her current state, locked to the wall of the tailoring shop by the male's hold. "Why would I tell you of the others?" What was once a wall beside them was destroyed in the blink of an eye, and her position shifted to face away from the marine as she was led through the dark lobby. "Why did you bring me here-" Her question was stopped by how he positioned her over the counter top, with her stomach pressed along the side of the wood while her rear end faced the stranger.

Eyes widened in the darkness, making out the shapes as his message rang through their and private dim setting. "Is this what you've come for?" Kitja tried to spin back around to face the larger figure, but the hand he had planted on her hip kept her firmly in place where he wanted her to remain; prone. "A man without morals is one without the light of God." It wasn't so much anger residing in the fiber of her being at this point, but a morbid curiosity brought upon by a lengthy life span and a sick sense of humor. Kitja catered to her captor when she asked softly,

"What do you plan to do to me?"

RE: Carpe Noctem [closed] - Kat - 01-09-2016

Their body types had no business being compared, so following this line of logic, what happened next would border painful for the elder Kindred. A tall and slender frame such as hers was better suited coupled with artisans and sculptors, painters and poets. Toreador, perhaps. Instead, she was pinned where he had thought to position her, bent over the counter by a creature far too large to be considered human. The stranger towered over Kitja like a bad omen, finding his hand now firmly grasped around her wind pipe while he issued warnings. Expelling a choked sound, she was left speechless. Had she found his soft spot when she spoke of god? Was this a moment of weakness on his part? In the eyes of the audience, the woman trapped was left with her thoughts in the company of a monster, which seemed almost too ironic given their two very different statures in the game played.

But she knew she was being taught a lesson for disobedience.

Neither contested what the marine wanted, given it was obvious as his raiments were removed piece by piece. An unfamiliar clatter of metal meeting wood rang through the otherwise silent shop that played host only to the faintest signs of distress from the outside world. Kitja would struggle as best she could with strong fingers so insistent to remain firm around her throat, but it was to no avail, and she felt that streak of defiance waning ever so slightly as his free hand ripped away the lower layers of her skirt. Fabric was tossed asideto reveal the smooth skin of her ass and thighs, with only the faintest scars adorning the inner flesh. Love bites, commonly enough. Old wounds from old lovers. Her life in the shadows reflected through whose teeth had been where on her body. Now, with the soldier's breath hot against the expanse of her throat that was still free, Kitja shivered and shook her head.

A futile means of expressing her discomfort.

Then, more heat approached between her spread thighs, and Kitja suddenly arched backwards as a cock too big for her tight sex forced it's way through her nude folds. The woman cried out, tensed, as he spoke one last time just beside her ear, though the creature's attention had drowned out his jeering in favor of focusing on what invaded her body. The marine didn't fit at first, but that didn't seem like much of an obstacle as his cock pushed through the barrier of her taut muscles, expanding them so they wrapped in a strangle hold around his girth. Her features could only turn so much, leaving her portrait sidelong for him to observe as she whispered hurriedly, "Ostanovis-" Though, in light of this intrusion and the shaking in her legs as her figure was propped upright by her attacker, Kitja didn't seem capable of getting away.

Or she wasn't willing to try fighting him off. It was easier to take his cock, regardless it's size, than it was to mend the damages he would do to her larynx and throat if he squeezed any harder. Having no true need to breathe, it was for vanity's sake she retain the ability to speak, but losing that ability was far more frightening than being fucked by the stranger. The fit would remain incredibly tight even as he based himself, though trickles of crimson would trail down her inner thighs as testament to just what his cock had done to the woman.

RE: Carpe Noctem [closed] - Kat - 01-10-2016

The force sent Kitja rocking forward into the counter top, which was soon followed a pained gasp, strained by clenched fingers constricting her throat. Her body remained locked and resistant, the initial shove inwards doing nothing to relinquish the tightness of her spread cunt. He would be met with blood, slick and viscous in how it drained along the length of the stranger's shaft. She still hadn't been given a name, though at this point, Kitja had no want nor desire to know more about the marine. The pain was a searing sort that seemed to branch from his penetrating lunges to her thighs, and radiate upwards into the pit of her stomach. Her torso remained bent to accommodate the male and his positioning, as she couldn't foresee fighting his assault successfully, and otherwise knew the worst would come if she didn't play his game.

A hand knotted itself in her auburn locks, and abruptly, she was jerked back to face the male in a sideways way; only catching that smirk he offered in her peripherals. Blinking, she tensed and seized as his entirety had shoved past her inner muscles, forcing the Kindred to house his cock while it pulsed and thrummed, oblivious to the sparks of pain it caused. She mouthed her discomfort in a shallow manner, unable to capture the full sentiment with the sounds her throat was able to attain. Small noises, weak and choked, that grew escalated when the male had pulled back his hips just to smash them back into the meat of her ass once more. It obviously hurt when she was initially made to fit his cock, but a new sort of pain evolved from the pace he chose to take.

That morbid sense of enjoyment didn't overshadow the injuries, and with blood used as lubricant, she could only imagine what sort of fetishes the marine harbored. In her state, her fangs extended slightly, with their tips burying into her bottom lip as though hoping to anchor her mouth shut. Less crying to be heard in darkness, even if he could see her face distort with discomfort and unwilling ecstasy. Kitja was a creature that had adapted through the ages by learning to manipulate and change what obstacles set themselves in her path. She could enjoy what he did if she wanted to, even if only slightly, because she could imagine what drove his thirst. A Vampire knew well what craven debauchery was available to those willing to throw their morality to the wind, and in some odd fashion, she didn't blame her captor for acting on his animal instincts.

Had she not done the same in the past?

But those days were long behind Kitja, replaced by the court and the Camarilla - those who would give her a second chance when she least deserved it. "I-I will not-.." The woman managed to breathe through sharp thrusts and the aching of her stretched hole engulfing the soldier's cock. It didn't sound all too convincing, but surrendering to this outsider had never been an option. He could defile her all he liked, but he was only buying time for the woman to orchestrate excuses on who the true xenos were. She would lie when she needed to, when he had finished, or thought to have stolen her dignity; her mind never ceased it's tireless work.

RE: Carpe Noctem [closed] - Kat - 01-10-2016

There was a wildness to her eyes, and how they caught what little light was available spelled nothing but inhuman. They darted at what they could make of the marine, be it simply his muscles, or the full extent of his arm as it reared back to issue a clap against her lower cheek. Kitja hissed under her breath, jerking slightly against the restraint at her throat just before her rear recoiled to sink along the thick shaft of the male. He wouldn't make her cum, and he surely wouldn't worry whether she was spending too much time picking apart his intentions with every deep thrust he made. Far be it from the Kindred to assess the situation while her person was puppeted to and fro to accentuate the stranger's carnal intent. Perhaps the woman wasn't entirely sure what his intentions were outside of eradicating those deemed unclean, but she was given this opportunity to unravel motives and study her company.

Man was not created to be a closed book. Surely one didn't expect to couple with a Vampire and not provide at least the barest glimpses at their true self. Duty to a great patriarch didn't bring to light his reasons for not tearing her apart without his cock, though. Still, everyone had a weak spot. Even foreigners built like the side of a barn weren't impervious to outside influences. So, she would play into his game further as the muscles rippled and wrapped longingly around his length, seeming to suckle and knead at his thick appendage with each powerful pounding she was given. Her body seemed to crave his, no matter how tight she was, sticky with fresh blood from muscles being forced too quickly to accommodate his sex.

When he fucked her, he would feel increasingly powerful. More so than before, it was a euphoric rush that seemed to drown out other emotions and feelings. It was gluttonous and monstrous, this surge of robust arrogance that overshadowed lingering doubts. The longer he chose this course of action, the more important her existence would seem, given how she channeled this strange majesty between their locked figures. Kitja was panting, with her eyelids half closed, and her legs shaking in their attempts to keep the woman standing - but that aura was relentless. All encompassing, it seemed to lick and caress the stranger like obsidian flames of self indulgence. It spurred him on, practically begging for the marine to force her into submission. To dominate his prize.

Kitja whimpered under her breathe as his cock was finally unsheathed, though knew by how her ass cheeks were parted, he wasn't finished yet. "How savage.." Was all she said as the bloodied head of his cock pressed through the taut ring of muscles to once more force the woman's body into a state of shock. Even when she focused on relaxing so not to fight the invasion, there was no way to escape the tremors of pain following his penetration. One after another, they spasmed through the Kindred's body, causing her to tighten when that was the last thing she wished to do. When tears made their way to her eyelashes, they were the same crimson as the spilled blood coating her thighs; a violent display of hunger painted across her fair skin.

"Fuck..."

RE: Carpe Noctem [closed] - Kat - 01-10-2016

It wasn't so much enjoyment she received from their union, but the smallest kindling of hope among his savagery as her body was further exposed. Her breasts spilled free from the ruffled satin top, as pale as moonlight and as delicate in nature as the petals of a white rose. Her beauty had been unmarred for ages, despite attacks and hostile takeovers, because the blood was not only a curse; it was a gift. Kindred wouldn't age or wear the blemishes of man, as vanity was as high upon their list of priorities as carnal hedonism was. The only difference between the Camarilla and the Sabbat was how they chose to conduct their affairs, and while the Sabbat was well known for their violence and destruction, the Camarilla worked as a court system with rules etched into the very foundation of their hierarchy.

Her Prince was a Princess, her clan was led by a Primogen who sat on the council of 12, and Kitja was the Scourge of New Cappadocia. Her title was her warrant, her right to pass judgement, and her absolving of sins against the Masquerade. Kitja Zykov sat on the left of the Princess, with the right seat taken by the Seneschal - and she knew no equal, even among those of higher prestige and pedigree. To say the marine had found someone of importance was an understatement; he had taken the law and order out of the Camarillian court for the time being, and there was no telling what chaos might erupt in her absence. Yet, when she was so delicately splayed for him to see, with her body in full view of his hunger, Kitja was reminiscent of a rare delicacy rather than the predator she typically embodied.

Oh, how the tables seemed to have turned as she was pulled closer to the soldier's bare chest, her ass cheeks plump and spread over the base of his cock. Her voice was a ragged howl, breaking loose as her lips parted and her head reared back even with his massive hand still keeping her windpipe crushed in a choke hold. She might have swayed against him as her arms searched behind her to attempt pushing him back, but the angle wasn't right to do so, and her inability to breath was hint enough that she shouldn't test her luck. When his cock pulsed within the smothering of her battered muscles, they swelled and constricted accordingly, making meager attempts to push him back out while he seated her between his groin and the counter.

Blood continued to leak in trickling streams, following the curvature of her injured sex, down to where he ensured her thighs remained spread because his were in the way. Like a doll, she was being used, and each harmful pump of his cock hammered through the knot of her inner workings to place claim on the woman. Kitja felt it all, from the breath hot against her throat as he taunted her, to the globs of precum he leaked as his body edged close to inevitable climax. Her senses were overwhelmed, and though her emotional state stayed on a level sense of disapproval, her physical presence seemed swarmed with each and every new sensation. Some of it was painful, but other parts were less so. It wasn't so much intimate as it was animalistic, and beneath the poise and etiquette of court living, the Kindred were wolves among sheep.

The aura would flare once more in silent praise, even while her cheekbones became stained with vitae tears, and her lips quivered despite no noise ushering forth. Silent pleas unheard.

RE: Carpe Noctem [closed] - Kat - 02-24-2016

Two very different views, it seemed. While Kitja was of the undead, with a long history riddled with violence, she considered herself one with the aristocracy at large. A member of the wealthy majority of Kindred. When called anything remotely questionable, the woman was insulted; her pride on the line before any bodily harm may otherwise come. Customs and culture played heavily into this mentality, as it was a notably different era when Kitja was sired than their present location, clustered amid the other interplanetary races like a menagerie of awkwardly chosen toys. The dome above proved only to establish further evidence that Kitja wasn't the xenos her captor was looking for. On the contrary, it was evident in the nature of their colony that humanity was the alien presence among the Kindred, relying heavily on their existence to continue living what some might consider worthless lives.

But Kitja, beside others among the court, had always provided for those in their stead. What use was there of a purge?

None. Such things were out of the question as far as the Scourge was concerned, given the coming event boded poorly for her race. With thoughts trailing back to the repercussions at hand, Kitja's body anchored against Arcinax with every willful shove he made to drive his cock further into the constricting confines of her plump ass. The muscles worked tirelessly to lash out at his forcefulness, though that was little to be done against the massive male, and his impact crashed her frame repeatedly against the counter top. Arched against the metal of his armored chest, the Vampire hissed and sighed, her voice guttural and haunting when she sank low down the length of his cock. Every movement brought swift response, though she could feel the small tremors coursing through his frame as he grew closer to finishing.

Even when overwhelmed by such sensations, her pride returned unceremoniously as a counterweight to his violence. He wanted her, even if she was filthy. No amount of rhetoric would wash away that personal achievement as his hands groped and caressed her form, manhandling her breasts from where they spilled from her blouse. A purge? Hardly. Even beneath the talks of cleansing her home of the evil it was harboring, the marine had willingly fucked that evil. Throbbing and desperate for release, Kitja measured her victory by just how he deep he went to fulfill each thrust and give his cock the climax it was yearning for. In the dark of the storefront, hidden from the eyes of their peers, the woman wore a secret smile she hid behind gliding her tongue against the tips of her fangs. Partially elongated, her heated state had gotten the best of her, and the blood in the air drew out the beast within.

"Base needs first." Slowly, her features would turn so they buried against the marine's where he had lingered near her neck. Lips traced lightly against the grain of his jawline, his scent unmistakable to the predator while she asked, "Did you plan this?"