EURYALE IS THE BLOOD-SOAKED APPARITION, BATHED, IN THE MOON'S NOCTURNAL RADIANCE. ASTRAL BEAMS, FELL UPON HER PHYSIQUE. HIPS SHIMMERING, IN SENSUOUS CRIMSON. HER INKED SNAKES, COME ALIVE - WRITHING, IN ALL THE MOON'S FLORESCENT HEADLIGHTS; SLITHERING, IN ALL THEIR GRACEFUL MALICE. TATTOOES. SCALES. CURVES. BATHING, OUR MISTRESS IN A DRESS OF INK and BLOOD, light AND SHADOW. DARK. MOON. ETERNAL.
ASHEN RAYS, WOVE THROUGH THE SUCCULENT CANOPIES. DUST PARTICLES, LINGERS ACROSS HER SKIN. FLOATING HEAVENWARD; DRIFTING UP, UP TO THE MIDNIGHT CURTAINS OF ITS INKY, TORRENT. FALLING DOWN UPON THE SLENDER SCARLET OF HER BODY, AS SHE WEAVES THROUGH THE LUSH, SUMMER GARDENS FULL OF SOFTLY-OMINIOUS SHADOWS, AND GLISTENING SCULPTURES. FOR ALL ITS DARK, LUXURIANT SPLENDOUR; IT IS AN EVENING SWATHED IN THE SILKS OF FINE, DENOCTIAN VIRTUOSITY. LATHERED, BY THE TASTE OF MIDSUMMER HEAT. AWASH, IN THE HALCYON BEAUTY OF STARLIGHT, PARAMOURS AND OPULENT DREAMERS.
SHE FEELS THE HEAT OF MIDNIGHT, PET THE CURVE OF HER NAPE. A KISS OF LINGERING HUMIDITY. SMOOTH. STICKY. GENTLE. NIGHT'S MOONSONG, CHIMES WITH THE STIRRING MELODY OF CRICKETS. A MERCIFUL EVENING, FULL OF LONG, DARK SHADOWS AND SECRET, SECRET SPACES; WHERE BEASTS AND ANIMALS, MIGHT PROWL AND MASQUERADE IN THEIR NOCTURNAL HOUR. OUR EURYALE CALANTHA, IS AMONG THEM ALL. BETWEEN THE FIRST STIRRINGS OF VELVET BREATH AND DARKNESS, ETERNAL. SHE IS AMONG THE BEASTS AND THE ANIMALS AND THE HUNGRY SERPENTS, WHO'D ROAM THE LOAMY WARMTH OF MIDNIGHT. HOT SCALES, TWISTING BENEATH LUXURIOUS, CHIFFON SILKS - THE HEATED FIRE OF LONG, PASSIONATE STARES; BURNING DEEP, INTO THE CURTAIN FOLDS OF THE EVENING.
HIPS, SWAY, WITH THE SHE-WOLF'S FERAL LANGUAGE. EURYALE WANDERS FROM MOONBEAM TO MOONBEAM; FEELING THE SOFT, LUMINOUS MOON, DANCE - RAY, UPON GILDED RAY - AGAINST THE CRIMSON FLESH OF HER BODICE. AGAINST THE COME-HITHER HOURGLASS, OF THEIR SUN-KISSED CURVATURE. TILL THE EVENING MOONLIGHT MADE A GOWN OF HER PROWLING, LUPINE FIGURE. DRIPPING, A TRAIL OF RESTLESS SILVER TO HUG THEIR MISTRESS' WAKE. EURYALE ROAMS THE PROLIFIC GALLERIA OF ARTS, WITH THE MOUNTAINS' JAGGED TEETH, EDGED ACROSS THEIR LEGENDARY HORIZONS. SHE DOES NOT ENJOY THE ARTISTRY, AS MUCH AS SHE ENJOYS WALKING BENEATH THE POETRY OF MOONLIGHT, AND THIS ALONE IS ENOUGH TO DRAW A HUM OF SATISFACTION PAST HER LIPS.
HER THOUGHTS, WERE LOST IN THE STILLNESS OF THE MOUNTAINS. IN THE STILLNESS OF THE WOODS AND THE FIELDS OF NUMEROUS ARTWORKS. UNTIL DEATH, ARRIVES; SINGING SONGS OF BLACK AND GOLD AND DELICIOUS MASSACRE. UNTIL SHE IS PULLED INTO THE SHADOWED CARESS, OF AN ADONISIAN BEHEMOTH, AND HIS GRIFFIN COMPANION. PULLED, BY THE RICH FRAGRANCE OF BLOODLUST AND FURY AND GODLY REFINEMENT. DRAWN, TO THE SHIFTING RUSTLE OF GILDED FEATHERS AND CROONING, MALE SENSUALITY.
HIS WINGS, WERE THE WINGS OF FALLEN ANGELS DRAPED ACROSS GOD'S THONE. REGAL. BEAUTIFUL. SO DEADLY, SO PERFECTED, IN ITS ALLURE. THE MUSCLES ALONG HIS BRONZED BODY, RIPPLES WITH A LETHAL GRACE - GOLD CHAINS, SMOTHERING, WITH SUCH UNBRIDLED MASCULINITY. SHE HEARS HIM, APPROACH. HEAVY FOOTFALLS, LACED IN THE SINISTER BRILLIANCE OF GOLD. GOLD. GOLD. DRIPPING, OF WEALTH. DRIPPING, OF DANGEROUS INTRIGUE; AND A SOFT, BEAUTIFUL BRAND OF HUNGER, THAT COULD ONLY BE DESCRIBED AS DEATH. SHOULD SHE FEAR HIM?
EURYALE WHISPERS, WICKEDLY, HER MELODIOUS VOICE A PURRING LILT OF WITCHY ENTICE. LIFTING HER RUBY GAZE FROM THE METAL ROSE-WORK, THEN THE GRIFFIN, BEFORE RESTING HER SMOKY, khol-lined EYES UPON THE TITAN. SOFTLY, SHE WHISPERS AGAINST THE HOLLOW OF HIS THROAT. BENEATH THE REGAL SHADOWS OF HIS MASSIVE, DARK WINGS; WHERE WILD, TANNED FEATHERS MAY COLLAPSE, AND CROON; FOLDING, INTO A VELVETY SEA OF BLACK, VIOLENT SATIN. HIS SMILE IS SAUVE. REFINED. HE SMELLS OF WEALTH, LUXURY, PRESTIGE. THE TANGLED CHIME OF LUXURIANT JEWELS. GLITTERS, WILD AGAINST THE Swarthiness OF HIS DEVILISH PROFILE.
GOLD GLISTENS AGAINST BLACK, AND EURYALE IMAGINES DEATH SINGING FOR HER THROAT. BREATHING, DOWN HER NECK. SQUEEZING, HER HEART WITH A HOT, DESERT SIGH, AND TAKING HER SOUL WITH A GENTLE KISS OF RUINATION. HER VELVET BREATH, STIRS AGAINST THE CORNERS OF HER RED, RED LIPS. HE IS TALL. HIS SHADOWED WARMTH, DRAWS THE FUR TO RISE ACROSS HER SPINE; A DECADENT, BARELY-THERE SHIVER, TRAVELING DOWN THE GRACEFUL LINES OF HER BACK.
EURYALE CONTINUES, TURNING TO FACE HIM, FULLY. FOLLOWING THE OUTLINE OF HIS FACIAL PROFILE. THE THICK, STRANDS OF EBONY HAIR, THAT CLUNG TO HIS NECK, FURTHER ACCENTUATING HIS SERAPHIC COUNTENANCE. ARTERIAL RIBBONS OF BLOOD JASMINE, DRIFTS LIKE IRON SILK FROM HER WOLVEN CURVES; CURLING, VORACIOUSLY, IN THE FOREST HOUR. TANGLING, IN THE WILD LENGTH OF HER LAVENDER MANE, AND DRIFTING AGAINST THE SMOOTH LINES OF HER IVORY CHEEKBONES. CARESSING, HER SLENDER THROAT WITH EACH VENOMOUS, VENOMOUS RECKONING. SHE LEANS FORWARD, BRUSHING PAST THE ANGEL OF DEATH, IN A FLURRY OF SOFT, LILAC TENDRILS. HER JAWS, CURLING AROUND THE THINNEST METAL STRAND. TILL SHE BENDS ITS SHAPE, AND A SINGLE ROSE UNFURLS IN THE MOONLIGHT, FREE OF ITS METALLIC CONTRUCT, ENTIRELY. THORNS, SO SHARP, SO ALLURING. THORNS, RIGID LIKE TEETH; THIRSTY FOR BLOOD AND THE PRICKING OF FLESH made immortal.
she looks up, and whispers; that her breath might find their longing, and linger softly against his cheek.
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