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Post by silvertip on May 11, 2007 14:39:21 GMT -7
 Night. His preferable time to go hunting. Humans or more..... exotic prey it did not matter. Cold eyes servayed the scenery as a single gold sail wrapped around the pole on the machine humans call a 'merri-go-round'. Large radar like ears picked up the slightest sound, they were his best attribute. Slowly he slid from the metal perch. Something, no, someone was near. A small smile crawled unto his muzzle. A black clawed 'thumb' steadied his top hat, as if to show whoever was lurking around his rank. Yes, he was quite arrogent but what Puppet Master wasn't? With a few steps forward he made a small dip of his head. "You may show yourself." his rich deep swahili accent was always apparent. (ooc:Yay I might be finally swinging back into things, even though this is crap. >< Oh, this is a private RP between me and Fera.) |
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Post by ferabird on May 11, 2007 15:02:54 GMT -7
It was not amongst those decorative horses that the puppet master's mystery companion danced... oh no. Each was still and alone, heads tossed or bowed and their painted eyes wide in what one could easily imagine to be fright. Manes and tails flew, paint chipping about the edges of over-decorative saddles. A slight chill shone on the metal of their spiralling posts, and as one followed them up.... was that rain?
No.... that wasn't precipitation. There was no heaviness in the air, and not a drop fell to the plains of manicured grass about the carousel. Something though dripped from the cheerily-painted roof of the merry-go-round, not only from one side either! From the lip all the way about it dripped and dribbled, pattering to the grass and staining it red. A familiar coppery tang that accompanied feeding would likely assault the chiroptae's senses in a rush, though no answer was forthcoming.
Whatever would he do? Investigate perhaps?
(Sorry, I added while you were posting >_> I fix!)
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Post by silvertip on May 11, 2007 15:59:45 GMT -7
Indeed the raspy mettalic smell aroused a spark in his predatory side. A fleshy tongue traveled against his lips and back. Once again his pale auditories scanned the grass painted with the crimson substance. With a toothy grin he opened his golden hued sails and peered through the darkness.
Quickly, curiosity got the better of him and he followed the invisible trail of scent. He would find out what it was, or who it was. Whether it was friend or foe, it didn't matter he would have fun this night.
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(oh snap I took my sweet time didn't I? I'm running back in forth watching simpsons and slowly repling at the same time. X3 I'll Find some way to reply to your amazing post.)
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Post by ferabird on May 11, 2007 16:05:17 GMT -7
The view above was spectacular.... The source of the rain of blood was one readily evident to even the most casual observer, a human corpse impaled upon the decorative spire that claimed the center of the tent-like canopy. Forearms and calves had been gouged open, each splayed in a different direction and falling slightly lower than the body so as to drain away every possible drop of blood. Ah, but this was not all! At the head of the corpse rested a chiroptae whom all but glowed in the moonlight, the stuff playing off her pallid fur and making her natural markings all the more pronounced. Delicate taloned feet and thumb-claws were stained liberally by the same stuff that dribbled to the grass, more still smeared across the great sails of her wings in self-designed sigils. Dream-like were her motions as she went on with her bloody ritual, eyes unfocused as she moved in a self-induced trance. Even now she dipped a bloody thumb claw into the open cavity of the human's chest, past broken ribs to dip the digit in what blood remained as a painter might dip their brush. With all the care in the world she scribbled a similarly foreign symbol upon her bow, an almost erotic sigh following. She knew she had company, and all of a sudden it was as if he'd been scripted in from the beginning. Mutely she accepted him into her little ritual, a flare of wings to either side made. Thusly she displayed her handiwork upon herself, afterwords stretching the finger-like digits of her wings forward and unto the puppet master. Anyone with a head for such rehearsed-looking formailty could read her motions. She beckoned him, offering a bloodied thumb to either cheek to smear them with the stuff before making a delicate hop... The top of that spire protruded from her victim's chest, and it was there she finally alighted. Bowing to her guest, she indicated with a dip of her delicate muzzle the heart that remained, inviting him to eat it or continue the ritual as he would. Meanwhile she turned unfocused eyes up and to the fat sphere of white in the sky, actions posessing a fluidity one would think came only from drug abuse. Body twining in rapture as she ended her part of the ritual, she flared and roused her wings- pointing the sailed appendages straight and to the sky with a femenine 'skreee' of delight. She'd not be herself again until the ritual'd been ended... and oh, how appalled she'd be to find a puppet master wrapped up in her fondly imagined spell-making. (HO'DAMN. My muse bitchslapped me for not believing and lookit what I did!  ) |
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Post by silvertip on May 11, 2007 16:40:48 GMT -7
Ah the mystery was solved! Cloaked in a drab of white, with only black swirles to break her outline she was quite impressive, moreso with a background of night stars.
As a stained claw made its way to him an amused eyebrow was raised. Her signs were clear and obvious, the male did not deny this. To some the blood curlding feminine skree would've been quite unnerving, to say the least. But to the Ritual it was art. Art in the making. He observed her artistic ritual with awe like eyes. However in only lasted a minute as she ended it and his eyes turned cold once again.
In a quick deft movement he flared his golden sails and took off in a brillent display of his strength and agility. Quickly his clawed feet came in contact with the roof of the blood stained merri-go-round. With a charming smirk he gave her a tilt of his top hat worthy of a gentleman. "Care to state your name?" He didn't soung annoyed, or mad not even assertive but friendly almost playful.
(Not even half decent. -.- I hate my muse.)
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Post by ferabird on May 13, 2007 21:40:31 GMT -7
For a long while did the pallid chiroptae hold her pose, mutely unanswering even to the might of a puppet master. But oh- she only barely knew he was there just then! It was gradual that she came down off her high, winged arms sinking down alongside her so that the lower sections rested atop the corpse at her feet. Lengthily did her breath escape her in a sigh, sense returning to her colorless eyes with a shake of her dainty muzzle.
"Mnn.... pardon?" she'd finally mumer, even in recovery her voice refined and clear. Oh, but it took training of the throat to chant properly, or recite incantations! Striped ears gave a thoughtful swivel as respectfully her head sunk. After all, respect was due to those who had the right to wear a puppet master's hat. "I am Akaeldamib, sir." she'd finally answer once she'd a chance to call up her memory of a few moments ago, head ducking to bare more visibly the sigil drawn in clotting blood upon her brow.
What a blood-splashed beauty!
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Post by silvertip on Jul 17, 2007 12:24:48 GMT -7
Dispite arrogence, he waited patienty for her to snap out of her trance. Many other Puppet Master would never allow such a thing, to be put on the side, second best to this female's first priority. However they both shared a common..... obsession and he would set aside his pride for this fetching female.
At her clear, refined vioce his darker ear swiveled back unexpectingly. However he never dropped his guard. Instead he took a step closer, his clawed tallon latched unto the roof of the Merri-go-round. The scent of blood aroused his senses, and his blood thirsty side. However he did not let it control him. Euclides that let blood drive their actions were nothing more than slobbering idiots.
"And I, Jekuia'Mahkera." he said with this head dipped. "Puppet Master, as you know." he continued, his head still dipped. "And you Akaeldamib?" his head swiftly rose as he studied every inch of her blood drenched body. "You must be a Marionette, yes?" It was more like a compliment, than an observation. He knew she was no Marionette, by the way she brutally klled her victims and carried herself.
(ooc:Yes, I think that little hiatus worked wonders, I like this post. Hmmm, Jekuia sounds like yoda at the end. o.O)
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