Posted by gaia on November 13, 2008, 11:22 pm, in reply to "projects and power; thread"
68.83.84.179
Air rushes up around her body, and although she does not fear it, the hag-mare can feel it; as it pressurizes and races along her body. She feels sticky heat and sweat against her flesh, and her skin shiver as the air plays and acts upon her; she purrs and her eyes close, for a moment she moans. Her voice overtaken as pleasurable sensation sweeps across her body, she knows that it is the air, but nonetheless it could’ve bee mistaken for a partner. It is a heavy breath that ends it, and her eyes opening when her head turns to the mare-child. Her mismatched eyes nearly glow in the academy (blazing like some sort of unholy fire) and her lips curve into a smile. She leans her head, her nose tracing a nonlinear pattern on the girls flesh, she purrs and hums; thinking about the oh so intriguing girl she stands with now. Her tail swishes once and her body sinks back as she continues to run her touch upon her girls neck, shoulders and the underside of her throat.
Without hesitation she wields her earth, thorny vines and creepers breaking through the soil and snatching the mares legs greedily. They bind and writhe against her flesh, thorns cutting and digging into her skin, they bind the entire leg and subdue the mare quickly. One of the creepers wraps from a leg around her neck, not pulling tightly but acting as a collar perhaps. Gaia watches her earth on the mare, tiny periwinkle flowers hesitantly blooming beneath her feet and a single bat-flower hanging from on the vines on the girls neck. Gaia stands aside, minding the stone and using a vines to raise sharpened one, it is black quartz with what seems to be a knife-polished edge. The binds a vines and reaches forward, in her mind pictures form and keenly she imitates them.
She cuts first near the girls shoulder, just a bit below the neck; eagerly the artist draws and cuts, watching as blood fills the wounds and drips across her flesh. She minds herself, making it of decent size to the girls body; the feathered serpent branded upon her. Gaia admits it to be her best work perhaps, adding here and there cuts and healing the wound almost immediately. The scarred mark is beautiful, and strangely Gaia is replaced; at her side now is not anyone she knows, instead the storm gray is replaced by a muddy grullo color and the white speckles are no more, the things legs are dark nearly black, and its mane and tail the same way. It is more masculine, with broader shoulders and a more Spaniard body. It’s eyes however stay the same; mismatched a violet-amber tinted brown with gold and silver flecks; and one a perfectly cerulean blue with a murky gray tinge. The creature before her is male, it’s body no wrapped in the scent of flowers as Gaia’s is, and instead it is heavily male and scented like the warm soil of the forests.
He smirks, his laughter a heavy chuckle, and his body yearning strangely for the bound mare. His voice is accented similar to a Russian man’s with the thick rasp and involuntary asperity like one had been a smoker for their life; artfully it is not so beautiful but nonetheless it is his. He turns though, his teeth snapping and nipping her flesh, a rolling purr in his voice; “I marked you,” he breathes and drinks in her scent, his nose just touching her skin and leaving a hot breath against it, “and now you are mine, nothing will change this.” The salt in the wound; and the vines upon her legs tighten and squeeze; he steps back, watching her writhe (he walks behind her then, flicking his tail and taking note of the way she stands). His intentions are not subtle, and there is no intimacy in his movements.
His vines stabilize to prevent her from running, and teases her with a single vine, slithering up from on of her legs and beneath her tail; it acts to his will (essential to Elemmírë’s will) and tickles her fleshy lips. It slithers and rubs airy circles, feeling its way into her with ease, almost immediately it pushes in further, pulling back and wiggling just for the sake of it’s masters will (had it been able to vibrate it would’ve). The rhythm and motion becomes all sensation for her, and the vines pushes and pulls, acting and moving in the motion of sex; but it is the scent and soft moans which cause the man to hunger; and as the vines draws back and slithers to the earthy floor; there is a pause just before he lines himself atop her (in that pause the vines let go and the earth becomes silent; her leg covered in small nicks and cuts bleed). He takes the girl hip in hip, wrapping his muddy front legs around waist—his neck reaches across, his teeth snatching the back of he neck; in all this however it is his pushes and pulling that have started.
His motions are not rushed at first, instead gentle and almost careful for a moment or so; but pace picked up as he (previously Elemmírë) becomes perhaps more comfortable with his doings. This is not gentle, nor is it romantic, instead it is needy and wanton; it is his weight forcefully applied to her back his hips slamming carelessly into hers. He ignores the tinge of metallic blood in the air, the sticky sensation of it on his loins is even ignored. Time goes on with motion after motion and the stagnant air of sex just around them; Gaia’s earth is silent and the nameless man’s eyes are hungered and frenzied with strange fire. He feels a strange sensation, and instinct tells him what it is; baritone grunts and moans drifting in the air. The strange moment comes to a close with the last few rough pushes of his loin and hips (and of course the release of fluids).
As he releases grasp of her body, sweat and stagnant air between them, his mismatches eyes are still aflame. He is puzzled for a moment, realizing as he stands at her side, although his body has a name he in spirit does not have one and strangely he remains in form of a man as he asks; “and what would you name this body,” there is a pause, and a careful sigh.
elemmírë, the primordium"Then shadows began to gather;
first little furtive ones under the table,
and then bolder ones in the dark panelled corners."
Message Thread:
« Back to thread