Warning: Blood & Gore
it is an evening, full of secrets. full of wild promise and thrill. thunder, splits the sky open. forest hymms, sing their rustling serenade through the nocturnal hour. it is so very dark, and ghastly, and the darkness settles as thick and heavy as an oil slick. against, the inky blades of blackness, the moonless, starless night is nothing more than a black hole of moaning eternity - and this moaning eternity, lathers deep into the earthy loams, with the wild promises and secrets of pagan godesses.
the blackness, collects upon euryale's spine like a hot, rabid thing. the blackness, feels thick, sticky and heavy. lathering. salivating. smothering, through the forests, and dripping an inky matter of oiled shadows through the trees. these shadows, cradle the forest-swamps, in a sea of grotesque, bone-chilling obsidian. the obsidian, seems alive. seems to snake. twist. crawl. touching, every rock and crevice, and smothering the entirety of the woodlands in a thick, smoldering veil of unbearable, torturous heat.
someone is here. the forest is her song. her ritual. she can feel the chanting of the trees. she can feel the harsh wingbeat of ravens. the rhythm of the woods, pounds, violently in her veins. in her heart. in her soul. someone is here for you. tonight, her heart is a wild lullaby, of festering violence and wicked thrill. tonight, she stalks the flower-beds made of rot, and bone-white disease, and laughs with devilish abandon for the freedom she feels. someone needs you.
she prowls and hunts and hunts and hunts, until her breath falls, hot, and ragged, against her breast. until her breath, curls out in thin rivulets of ophidian mist - the curl of wanton need; falling, in hot pangs of misty, gasping surrender against the smooth curves of her lithe flesh. tonight, the forest belongs to our crimson she-wolf, euryale. tonight, she hunts and purrs and wets the thick white of her canines, in their blood ritual. she wants blood. blood. b-l-o-o-d. and her lips, both purrs and growls and aches to have it all come undone, between the violent shudder of her jaws. against the violence of her kiss.
tonight, it is heat and humidity, that ravages the midnight hour, as up ahead, thunder cackles like a wild beast; flashing bright light, in its exquisite violence. in the darkness, euryale's image is a feral blur of red and azure, against the trees. her silhouette of ravenous hunger, and eternal want, burning waves of wildfire through her ivory-kissed physique - through the wicked woods, she runs. runs. runs. hooves, more like massive paws, thundering after a frightened stag, when a large black wolf appears before her and brings the beast down with a rabid jerk, and the snapping white of fangs in the dark.
euryale feels her heart exploding with both hunger and violence and need and thrill. she feels more like an arrow in her chest, as an invisible string tugs at her soul, and pulls. pulling. pulling. pulling. a silent gasp, leaves the red curve of her lips. she feels her heart soaring, and dying; dying to give birth to a new star. resurrecting, in an ocean of wildfire before the beauty of lilith. the whole of the forest, seems to quiver before the two of them. the whole forest seems to shiver, then bow. bow. bow. bowing, down with limbs outstretched; rising, in a symbol of their offering. the whistle of the dry, caked leaves, and the churning of the black soil, all flows out before the dark universe in a sea of blood. blood. b-l-o-o-d. there will be blood.
euryale, whispers in the darkness. it is all she says before she jumps out, bounding ahead, and the two wolves find eachother in a moment of eternity. together, they brush against eachother in a feral embrace. mapping, the patterns of their fur with the raking of sharp teeth. together, they become one complete soul, and they purr and laugh and sing for one another's wickedness. lilith, runs her wild body against euryale's, till the two of them become one song of violence and love and thrill. together, they turn towards the deer, to share the midnight feast as euryale takes the first bite and drowns the stag's jugular in a sea of blood.
blood, drips down in wild rivulets of vermillion. blood, drips down in hot waves of warmth. blood, pours and pours and pours, soaking red into the moist, black earth, and is it them - euryale and lilith - growling. snarling. devouring. making, an empty cage of the meaty beast. together they are one pack that descends upon the stag in a fury of claws and fangs, and as the blood of the stag bleeds its last visceral red, lilith stretches her limbs and throws back her head, to sing a deep, mournful howl. she sings the way a dark goddess, sings; full of hellish abandon and wicked mirth. she sings with soulfire in her veins and passion in her eyes. so that the whole forest may hear her songs of adoration and eternity. so that the whole universe may hear her songs of love and tenderness, for her euryale.
@Random Events
