GRAVEYARDQUIETS :

[ATTY]

finished <3 a claiming post that is open to any - even if not in his herd.

Through me they orchestrated their teachings. I was a puppet to their masterful fingers of gold and silver. As they wished, I did. I carried out their wants and needs and my faith for them as true as my need to eat and drink. I was the messenger for the poor of heart, for the unfaithful and worthless. I was a preacher of real sin, and for those who did not believe me, I carved out their hearts and ate them. I was a cruel dark man from a cruel dark family. I pitied none and shed no mercy. I was Ammitt, the soulless man, some called me.

I knew names like murderer and rapist like I knew the back of my eyelids. I was the product of hell’s greatest beings.

But here I stood, a vessel, alone and quiet on a summer’s eve, the wind heavy around me, burdened by the weight of my teachings. The Valley of Bones, so similar in its name to the places of the dead I’d called home as a youngster. But here I found no spirits bound by their unsaid guilts, only the bleached remnants of real dead. But the quiet suited me, it gave me space and time to think. And think I did, how I would make this land bow.

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[Maylea]

Desolute, empty, dark, depressing . . . perfect. How she’d successfully managed to stumble across a land like this, she had no idea, but hey, she wasn’t about to start complaining. Why would she? She was a freak of nature, and one who liked the darkness that had been her sanctuary all these years. She was a demon who rejoiced in the cold nothing ness. She was the type who felt much more comfortable in those places no one else would venture. She was the dragon in the haunted cave, the spooks in the scary forest, the monster beneath your bed. She was the horse eating ogre, hiding beneath the earth, the giant towering from the clouds above. She was a nightmare, a fixation, a murderer in angelic clothing, an angel fallen from grace. She was a creature of the night, of the dark, of the demented. She was the one who got her fix on blood, murder and mayham, on the scream of others, on the sight of their last breath leaving them as the light died from their eyes. There was very little that was unique to her, there was less that was sacred to her. And if it was sacred to you, it was a target to her.

She walked quietly through this valley of death, valley of darkness, valley of bones; what ever you wished to call it. Either way, she was walking through it quietly, her white cat seeming to gleam against the darkness, her blue eyes watching as she crossed the hard, rock ground, occasionally stepping over a random set of bones. She moved with an air of power, demanding the respect towards a creature who rightly choose between your death and your life. She smirked lightly, this land wasn't nearly like another grove she'd grown fond of, the way that the mist climbed her limbs to obey her demands, just as it had obeyed the words, wants, and desires of the titan in charge. She knew she would be able to find another home when the land bowed to her commands. And with the way she demanded attention, it wouldn't take long for a land to fall victim to her power, control, demands. It was only a matter of time.

Her curls bounced with every step, toying against her neck, falling chaos down from her rounded, sloping haunches. She really could be a sight to see if she was one of the good. Gorgeous feminine form, delicate form, despite the slight draft form. Friesian, meaning she held poise and elegance. An arched neck, a roman facade, feathering around each hoof that danced in time to her steps, pulling towards and then away from her slate grey hooves. Her ivory form was the coveted tone on angels, her blue eyes; had they been filled with a goodness; could easily trap any stallion. But now. She was a creature darker than her coloring. A creature who betrayed her colors. She grinned, as she continued to move, her form moving with a delicate ease, as she sought out some form of entertainment before she'd move on into another land. Always moving, for who could control the bringer of death?

It was then that she saw the lone figure, and with a deadly smirk, she approached, unafraid, head held high, and tail slightly flagged from the arabian blood that had been crafted into her genes. She didn't bother with announcing her presence, why would she. She waited until she was close enough, before smirking easily, and speaking, "I fear I've gotten myself lost, darlin'. Mind telling me where I've managed to find myself, dear?" She paused, moving to circle around him, "And, while you're at it . . . how about a name to go with a handsome face, hmm?" It was more a demand than a question. It was always a demand when it came to Wicca. Why would it be anything else, considering who it was that she 'was'. A creature of darkness, a creature of death, a creature who always got what she wanted. Welcome to the eye of the storm, dear boy. Play nice, because any moment, this disaster can move on and you'll be all that's left of a hurricane of destruction.


Words of your demise
The massacre thought out

[ATTY]

finished <3

I’d never had to contest for control, for the grip on the leash, for obedience. It had always been given in my presence, like those who had met me knew of my desires, and they feared them. They feared the unknown, the new, the unexplained, and that’s all that I ever had been. So to have that comfortable feeling stripped from me with an icy blast of autumn air sucked in after her white heels, oh I was less than pleased. With that, I was not a man to feign anything, so as she paraded her wares around me like a drunken advertisement I curled my upper lip and with a grunt, spat solidly where your back feet had last touched. I met disrespect with disrespect, and met her siren’s gaze with a heartless glare.

I was not a man tempted by flesh, and least of all by spoiled flesh. I grimaced as she slipped under my nose like a lioness in season, curling and twirling, an ivory gargoyle with real teeth. Soon enough she’d learn her charms were ineffectual for a stallion of my ‘faith’. And she was close to my age, weathered and wizened, and probably touched by the most unclean of men. Again, she danced underneath me and I lifted myself up and free.

“You trample the doorstep of the Gods,” I growled beneath my breath, twisting my neck and head to trail her circle “before you know the keeper’s name, tell me the name of the wretch that spoils their gateway” (because through me they will know you, find you and gut you clean). I was their puppet, and for that I had sacrificed my soul and my morals. I was the keeper of their darkest secrets, and the executer of their darkest plans and wants.

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[Maylea]

Everyone likes finding a toy, is that not true - and so that's her amusement on this occasion. A toy, a perfectly new, amusing little toy. Not that she minded his apparent distaste. She wasn't in for a true 'toy' today. No, she had a different hunger which needed to be sedated. Not that the boy wasn't handsome, sure . . . But . . . she was hungry . . . She suppose she'd just see where this meeting would begin, and where it'd end after wards. She smirked as he lifted up and away, before growling, watching her trail, You trample the doorsteps of the Gods, Gods huh? Maybe he was insane? Perhaps she was to relieve him of his misery? Yes that must surely be it. before you know the keeper's name, tell me the name of the wretch that spoils their gateway.

[/s] a wretch, too! Oh how terrible. She'd never been called a wretch, how could it have taken this long?! But she wasn't done playing with him just yet . . .

Which is probably why her words came out slightly sing-song, with a dark purr, "I am the goddess who follows the steps of the devil's grim. The maiden who rides behind winter's grasp. The she-demon who picks off the weak for the reaper's hand, and leads them down hell's pass.[/color]" She couldn't help but grin, having fun with an idea of playing him to no end. Build her up, build them down then tear their throats out, aye? "I'm the creature who haunts the nights, the one who doth make foals cry. A murderer in angel's clothing called I, so fear me pet, or die. I'm the maiden who follows the gracious steps, the dance of the death, I dance forth. So why should I speak my name first, when it's you who is less than worth.[/color]" She finished her insulting poem, smirking once more at him, before adding ever so delicately, "Now speak up darling, before I grow to bored . . . or your name might be the last thing you'll ever say. And I doubt you'd want that. So hurry up, darling, hurry, before I make you my new masterpiece?" Insult, and a threat - now she felt partially satisfied, not to just get some blood to spill to, then i'd be a truly perfect day.


Words of your demise
The massacre thought out [/size][/font][/color]
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[ATTY]

finished <3 sorry for the epic wait! the beach & holidays called xD

Two could play the derogatory game, two could tango, two could love, and two could hate. I mused over the thought as she attempted to wind my self-control around her little finger, to pull me into her space and promise sweet lies. But she was unaware of just who I was, and what I was capable of. I was not a man capable of being seduced – the carnal desires were there though, but I never acted upon them. I was a stallion of faith, and my attention only ever lingered where it was needed. And this mare looked to be in serious need of it.

And sweet lies her alabaster lips did utter, hundreds of them, until my legs were stilled by the weight of them, and I held her gaze distantly, wondering if she would ever be silenced. But the moment she threatened me, I was rapt, and I felt my heartbeat become heavy and powerful as the idea of a fight coursed through me.

Feigning innocence, I blinked and remained quiet, the bright colours of my eyes possibly betraying my inability to care. If she was the goddess she claimed to be, then she was a cursed one, for all of the deities knew me and my uses. I was an executioner at their will, and also a teacher. So stiffly, I regarded her again with a daring expression turning my mouth upwards at the ends “I believe that your ego might suffocate me before your jaws do, ‘mare’, yet still I am not worried. I have the protection of beings you have no concept of, so quieten yourself – they might hear you” I remained nameless “and I believe they would be displeased with your empty threats – but they do want to know why you have strayed here” Deflection, I was a master of all trades.

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