Topic: Generativity vs Stagnation

Victor Kazon

Date: 2010-02-13 17:13 EST
((OOC - Generativity vs Stagnation:
Erickson's 7th stage of development (Adulthood to Middle Age)

- If you have a strong sense of creativity, success, and of having "made a mark" you develop generativity, and are concerned with the next generation; the virtue is called care, and represents connection to generations to come, and a love given without expectations of a specific return.

- Adults that do not feel this develop a sense of stagnation, are self-absorbed, feel little connection to others, and generally offer little to society.

Too much stagnation can lead to rejectivity and a failure to feel any sense of meaning (the unresolved mid-life crises), and too much generativity leads to overextension (someone who has no time for themselves because they are so busy.)

This thread shall tell the story of two characters caught somewhere in between.

The dated entries from Victor are excerpts from his ship's log, which he's using as a sort of journal during his time in RhyDin. These entries begin upon his arrival last summer.

As the title indicates, this thread will contain mature content... and speaking of the title, it and the quite relevant quotes above were Anyanka-mun's awesome idea. I'd never have come up with that on my own.))


11th Hati, 21779*

I've arrived at the blue planet of sector 763, locally designated as "RhyDin." From what I've gathered, I shouldn't lack for entertainment; it is rated among the best and worst of vacation worlds, and some of the recommendations had me in stitches. It certainly seems as good a place as any to lay low for a while.

As I write this log, I have over a hundred messages backed up on the ship's omnithal, and at least thirty more on my personal receiver. They started flooding in five days ago, so I'm assuming that's when the paperwork hit my father's desk. I'm not reading this crap. Father and his agenda can rot in hell. I've washed my hands of it.

It's just after sunset, and I want to get a look at this city I've heard so much about. With any luck, it'll be a fun place to start my retirement.

---

17th Hati, 21779

It's been a rather eventful week.

Before I left Prime my time was limited, so I never read the longer, more in-depth reports on 763. Now I realize that nothing could have prepared me for this anyway. I've met creatures of every imaginable variety, even many species that appear nowhere in our files. Then again, how could we even categorize them all?

Apparently this unique diversity stems from the presence of a major node in the IDPN, extant in many of the worlds we've encountered.** It is by far the largest and most traveled of the nodes we've discovered, and seems to be an integral factor in society here. The engineer in me yearns to learn more about this node, but I'll bind and gag that bastard if I have to. Many have walked that path, and we still know next to nothing of it or the IDPN as a whole, aside from its function.

The most interesting effect, however, is a social one. Xenophobia is a major issue with our space program, especially since Seraphs are the primary scouts due to our resilience and combat readiness. We tend to scare people. This world is a completely different story. Of course I get the occasional curious glance or odd question, but to borrow the words of my ancestor Victor III, who was part of the original team to discover this world, "In a world where everything is alien, there are no aliens."

The city itself is like something from a history book, complete with cobblestone streets and architecture that resembles the pre-Union Alpha seaboard cities. There is technological advancement (and even a spaceport), but it seems that most who visit or come to reside here are from far more primitive societies.

I will undoubtedly chronicle this world in more detail as time goes on, but there is a curious event tonight that I will be late for if I continue. It's been years since I've had a good dance.

---

28th Hati, 21779

Damn my father and his political bullsh*t.

He actually sent a squad to 'extract' me and bring me back to Prime, and they would not leave until I made it crystal clear that they would only take me by force. Apparently my sudden retirement and disappearance has caused a political scandal, one of much greater magnitude than when I entered the Seraph program.

My only regret is that this is unlikely to cost him his office -- one he gained by abandoning Sintherrata to be overrun by a legion of demons, under the guise of preserving our nation.

I was there. We could have turned the tide. I'm certain of it.

Unfortunately, I fear that I shall pay the price for this. At some point I must inevitably return to Prime to recharge the mana tanks in my vessel, which I also draw from to power my personal cell. I have found no facility on this planet capable of providing refined mana in the form I require.

I do not know what shall await me when that time comes.

---

5th Kyuu, 21779

Mithril's blade, what a night. I don't even know where to start.

Lately I tend to frequent the Red Dragon, an establishment that seems to be quite the gathering place. Tonight I turned off the purifiers for a while and allowed myself to relax with kazzalin*** and ale.

Then I met this woman... although I don't know if that's the right word - I'm sure she's not human. Taller than me, with the most amazing red hair right down to her arse, and the strangest eyes I've ever seen. I think she may be blind, but if she is, she's got some sort of sense I've never encountered before. She can certainly 'see'... I just don't know how. She could very well be a demon.

This lady moves like an animal, with triple-jointed limbs or something. I don't know any other way to explain it. And her teeth... she made a point to show them to me. That was the first sign that I should get the hell out of there while all my pieces were still attached, but I couldn't. I think she had me under some kind of spell.

Every word from her mouth was a riddle, and occupied every part of my mind that wasn't too busy trying to undress her with my eyes.

I lit up my pipe somewhere along the way, and she seemed to want to try it. When I offered it to her, she said, in that bizarre riddle language of hers, that she wanted it from me.

I don't know what possessed me, but I climbed up on the barstool (she's really tall, probably 190-191) and breathed a lungful of smoke into her mouth, so close I was practically kissing her. My blood warms up just thinking about it. Mithril's blade, that was the steamiest thing I've ever done... and I did some crazy sh*t in my SDF days. I can't describe the shades of red I turned when I realized half the bar was watching. One man even stood up and clapped.

Then she thanked me, I think... it was yet another riddle... and left. I can only hope I'll see her again. Something about her pushes every button I have.

I never did get her name.


((*The current calendar date, as of the time of this posting, is 23rd Ni, Cycle 21780.

**IDPN stands for Intra-Dimensional Pathway Network, the Quad's term for what most in RhyDin would refer to as the Nexus. It should be noted that Victor's home is a construct world and has no connection to the network. The people of the Quad discovered RhyDin through space exploration.

***A plant with large blood-red leaves that are typically smoked due to its mild narcotic effect. Originally discovered offworld by Cievnik II Kazon and brought home, it has long since become a major cash crop and remains the primary source of the Kazon family's income.))

Etherealdream

Date: 2010-02-17 21:38 EST
874; 49.
Year eight hundred seventy four, day forty nine.

His blood tasted like the salt left behind by the brine of an old fisher?s boat. Sharp, weathered, but still sturdy and willing to breech dangerous waters, timeless and exquisite.

?No better tempter than a maiden from the mythos?? He?d said to me. Mm, there is a sweetness to a mind that still kindles the ways of old.

My voice was enough there was no need for song. I?ve grown too keen in my riper age and two months cycles of time in this city has only reaffirmed my suspicions. Hoping for the taste of a challenge seems too much a thing to ask the gods it seems.

Though enamored as I was with his taste, the desire for his hands worn nature was not there. As usual to this era of time, only a mouthful was taken and a scar given; my song left him with memories of times long past where his fists and sharp-ended whiskey bottles ended in sore mornings after.

His name was Lief.

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874; 55.
Year eight hundred seventy four, day fifty five.

As eternity slips by there comes many a realization. I myself have had many of them, though one in particular comes to my every time I breath in the tempered dust curling off from the blare of hot stage lights. There, if on no other surface in any world or realm, may pauper and prince alike find immortality.

Even a creature such as myself can appreciate this, and will continue to appreciate this.

Through the thick of the crowd I singled him out; lured him in. My voices ring runs deep, it strikes a cord, it strikes a flame. His hands were a needy, greedy set, they held a rare fire; a desire for that thin taste of breathlessness one can only find in ecstasy or death? I gave the latter. His temper was too eager and too familiar. I cannot forgive, but I can attempt to forget.

His name? was Eitienne.

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874; 66
Year eight hundred seventy four, day sixty six.

Both the moons hang at their fullest and ripest tomorrow eve, and will continue to be so for the next three days. My time grows short, and my impatience long. I can feel the call growing hungrier with each passing moment.

My appetite is near insatiable this eve, but I hold back if only to keep my profile comfortable. He was drunk, lonely, and wreaked of self pity; too easy in two bites.

His name was Bryce.

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_____________________


874; 73
Year eight hundred seventy four, day seventy three.

If time has showed me anything, it is that uniqueness is not always a deviance from the norm. There are however creatures I will call anomalies; rarities? True nonpareils far beyond the realm of disregard.

I have found one of those beyond said realm.

His smell speaks of places outside the country?s celestial boundaries, his skin is a warmth composed of things I have not encountered many times; metal and man flesh. My voice held no effect, not even a curiosity born attempt at a throaty croon? nothing. I relied on baser charms, my own.

My words intrigued him, my riddles and rhymes and intentional queerness drew the muscles of his brows together more than once; I could hear every inch of him respond with a feminine pride. Then, in a moment when I sought the green fairy for my glass, his hands moved on their own volition and claimed a pipe. It was a piece worn through moments comprised of years spent at rest between his lips, held a most curiously alluring smog. My path was clear. Requesting a taste leant me close enough to feel the warmth of his skin and taste the wet from his smoky breath. His exhale was delicious.

I do not give my name lightly. Even those who would consume me with their eyes from the distance of the stage, and despite the idle curiousness this man?s presence posed to me, I still did not relent, not yet. His curiousness outweighs my own, blind as these useless eyes are, I had no need of them to tell me this.

His name is Victor.

Victor Kazon

Date: 2010-02-25 20:43 EST
7th Kyuu, Cycle 21779

I can't get her out of my mind. This is bizarre. It's as if she put something in my head. My diagnostics insist otherwise, but I remain skeptical.

I am no romantic, nor am I particularly sentimental. This should go without saying -- I am an engineer.

While I've had my share of misadventures with the fairer sex (especially when it served to cause a scandal for my father), these have never been what I'd call meaningful. More often than not, I was drunk.

NiN*, as we say in the SDF.

Much like tonight.

She had long red hair, that's what drew my attention. She's a waitress at the strange restaurant near the docks that serves sea creatures. Curiosity drew me there, as no such thing exists back home.** I could develop a taste for this, particularly the thing the call 'calamari'... but I digress.

It was a slow night, and she spent a lot of time at my table. She asked the usual questions, I gave the usual answers. I told her stories of my SDF days, the fall of Alpha, and performed some of the more amusing parlor tricks my cybernetics are capable of. They were, in her words, a 'marvel'. It still amazes me how much of this city remains primitive despite the presence of high technology.

Not long after this, I showed her my shell, and I showed her my bed.

I've never slept with one woman while thinking of another. It was a strange experience.

I don't remember her name.

---

11th Kyuu, Cycle 21779

I found her again. Or maybe she found me?

The tea shop around the way was my destination, and I'd hardly sat down when she came in the door. She acted like she didn't recognize me at first. This, of course, is a game I've played before. I knew the win condition. Further, I had a convenient excuse not to 'notice', as I had projected a recording from earlier over the table. The hologram had my attention, and soon it had hers as well. I didn't have to say a word.

It would be forgotten soon after, but unfortunately most of the rest is a haze now.

She spoke, as always it seems, in riddles and subtleties. Most of them I can hardly penetrate, much less translate. There are moments of lucidity, of course. In fact, I'm fairly sure that most of the time she only twists her words just to f**k with me. It's her way of finding out what makes me tick. It works, especially since her every move is so entrancing.

I think she may have even hinted at what she really is, but I cannot be certain. Either way, I scanned her this time. Human DNA with something that isn't anywhere in the database. I confirmed the results twice. I've discovered a new species. Then again, if I chose to do so I could probably discover new life every day in a place like this.

For all this, I still do not know her name.

---

14th Kyuu, Cycle 21779

I saw something strange today.

A man with glowing blue eyes. It reminded me of the vidcasts of the Emperor. He even had silver hair. I can't help but wonder if my systems have glitched somehow. There couldn't be a Verchani here I don't know about, could there?

I cannot access the databank to verify. My father, in his infinite wisdom, has cut off my omnithal.*** He apparently thinks this will make me run home.

I still have 66% of the ship's battery. It's a civilian grade piece of sh*t, but it will have to suffice. I'll have to conserve energy when possible. If I'm careful I can last another month, maybe longer, without a trip back to Prime.

In that time, I'll be working on a generator. This will not be easy, as I must fabricate all the parts myself, and I'll need a ready source of mana. It doesn't exactly grow from the stone here.

---

15th Kyuu, Cycle 21779

Mithril's blade, she's haunting me.

I have taken to walking much more often to preserve my mana. As I left town I passed a large house that seemed to host some sort of party. Skurs****, the lot of them... and her. That couldn't be right, could it?

Are my systems failing? Two days running my eyes have been playing tricks on me.

I need a drink.



((*Nith i Noth, a SDF slang corruption of Lith (love, sex) and Voth (blank, void) with the feminine N- prefix. Essentially, "F**k and Forget." Despite its misogynistic origins, the phrase has come to be used by men and women alike in the SDF.

**The Beta quadrant has no bodies of water, and therefore no aquatic life. Only Alpha and Delta have such, and Victor has never seen either.

***Omnithal is a stone with a bizarre quality. It forms into a specific crystalline shape, and when it is cut apart, all pieces of the stone will react when just one fragment is affected by mana. Using simple patterns of light on it, for example, causes the same light to shine through every piece that came from the same stone. This happens instantly, regardless of distance from its 'sister shards'. Its discovery began a new age of communications and greatly expanded the space program's reach. Omnithal cannot, of course, be 'cut off' unless the sister shards are broken, but the systems can deny access and refuse to send anything back. This is what Victor refers to.

****Another bit of SDF slang, equating businessmen and politicians (Elimers) with dung (Skuth).))

Victor Kazon

Date: 2010-03-06 02:53 EST
---Interlude I - Reflection---

15th San, Cycle 21780 (Yesterday)

A strange sort of insomnia has taken me tonight.

I have spent the last hour watching her sleep and reading these entries from the days when we first met. The memories are evocative in so many ways. We've both endured much in these months, but despite everything the world (and at times, even we ourselves) has thrown at us, we are stronger than ever.

In light of this, yesterday I finally mustered the strength to do what I had hitherto only dreamed of.

I fabricated a convenient excuse that required my presence at the refinery, taking with me a single ingot of mithril, one that I had enchanted myself. With it I forged the bracelets. They are the finest work of my life, particularly hers, which I carved by hand and laser. From the story she once told me, and the promise I made to her, did I draw the inscripton:

"My beloved Anyanka, I shall forever be your river."

I then took them to my shell, and departed once again to collect my love from the clutches of her invading family. She did not protest.

Now, tradition has never been my strong suit (far from it, in fact) but this was different. Sacred, even. "Only in the eyes of the gods," so it has been written for millennia. The bonding is not to be seen by others, no matter how near to the heart they may be.

In hindsight, perhaps my shell was not the most special or romantic of places, but I could think of nowhere else that would mean more to either of us. It is here that we have spent many days and many nights, and with her own home overrun with her kin, it was truly my only choice. So there I carried her, and through most of this I am convinced my heart was trying to escape my chest.

I nearly lost my nerve, more than once. My path strayed as we flew, and I babbled almost incoherently about anything and everything to keep my mind from cracking. Somehow I held myself together as we arrived. Of course, Anya is no fool. Her patience with my tension, my anxiety, and most of all my secrecy, was running out.

I drew forth the band I had carved for her, and I asked her to take the bond with me, to be my Nischa.

She said yes.

Nischa i Vischa - Aeterna, vi Incendia.*

((*Roughly, "Bride and Groom - Until the End", although the term -ischa (N- for feminine, V- for masculine) is actually an adaptation of -ischalamin, or "Chosen One". Incendia, borrowed from latin (as is much of the Quad's language) means "destruction by fire" literally, but in this context speaks symbolically of an ancient prophecy of the Quad's end in an eternal firestorm. It has been the marital oath of Straphia for over twenty thousand years. To more accurately portray the spirit of the oath, "My beloved chosen, I shall be yours until the world is no more."))

---End Interlude---

Etherealdream

Date: 2010-03-09 09:57 EST
874; 75
Year eight hundred seventy four, day seventy five

He can't get me out of his mind, and I find it bizarre. I did not put a thing there, in that head of his, I merely used the tactics any other creature might while in the process of reeling in their prey.

I happened upon him again, that man; Victor.

He was ambling by towards a restaurant I've come to know since my time in the city. It's one of the few that's established itself and last so long. It shows my age. Perhaps ambling isn't the word, but I'm a harsh critic; then again, given the... industrialization that his body has undergone, and the weight it bares. Well, perhaps he moves quite sleekly for a man of his design.

There was a ramshackle affair I had attended down the longer, glitzier side of the docks. A sprawling event for some theatre announcement or another. Or was it a local entrepreneur's birthing year? I can hardly remember.

It shows the lack of importance and directs my focus more on this entry. That man. That seraph. Victor. Twice I have written his name, has the being left so significant a mark already? No, not quite. I blame the lack of feeding since. I was interrupted you see; intrigued might even be the word...

I observed him through the window as the telltale steps of a female attended his table more often than most. She favored him, but it was he who kept up the play and the allure. He dazzled her without much thought. So simple sometimes, these humans. Pretty but oh so simple; the notion sets my teeth on edge, sharp and wanting. Though this seraph is no creature that consumes as I do, he is a being with desires like any other. Even through my position far beyond the window on a nearby roof top I could tell this.

He wanted her. Not her though; there was something about the way he touched her hair. It was something in the way he honed on her sway, expecting a greater sense of water perhaps? The thought struck me so suddenly and so sharply it made me laugh aloud. Even now as I write I cannot keep the smirk from my lips.

He wanted me.

As the moved from the eatery and the lights went off, he remarked on the peppery tone of her hair. A compliment that made my amusement stretch all the wider I listened to them them disappear down the street... He will lay with that woman this night, but it will not be her flesh he's tasting, nor the hair he buries his grunting face in. No.

Her name, my name, is Anyanka.

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874; 79
Year eight hundred seventy four, day seventy nine

Chance held it's hand in our meeting today. Pure, lovely chance.

There's a particularly nice tea shoppe in the market proper that I enjoy stepping into from time to time. They have the most interesting tomes on their shelves. The inks are nice and thick; more than easy enough to decipher with these sensitive fingertips of mine.

I entered the scene to find him there. The room was filled with his presence and quite the queer bit of machinery.

The game began anew.

His attention was rapt but laced ever so thinly with vexation, confused and enlightened by every word I spun him. There were truths, as always, hiding in my poetry, and he seemed to glean the basest of them. I admitted my inhuman nature. I wove the quietest notes of purpose, of reason, of why it was I acted the way I acted.

Hunger makes us do the craziest things.

Later in the evening I chanced upon a man of blonde white hair fading to the gray of his early-late years. I asked for a bit of fire, then whispered his undoing. The bite was quick and painful, but he left swollen with bliss and a memory I placed suggesting of a wild evening with friends and harlots.

His name was Theodore.


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874; 85
Year eight hundred seventy four, day eighty five

I ache for his taste, no blood and no flesh seems just right. It's a curious sensation to eat but not be quite full. I'm resorting to appetites I haven't felt for hundreds of years; consuming more and giving back less.

An easy night, then. A man whom would disappear without a trace. The red light district holds many of those. Sin tastes most delicious, and so was he.

His name was Gabriel.

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874; 86
Year eight hundred seventy four, day eighty six

Tonight was one of those nights for the stage and the public. Aah one of those nights we feel most alive and virile. I danced in the flesh this night; some nude, fantastic escapade concocted by a writer one of my patrons favors. All women of course, though none quite like me. Those foolish men and their lusts for the play of lady skin to lady skin.

All play of course, my biology, nor my pallet prefers the taste of such... estrogen ridden things.

But there, afterwards. Through the thick of the smoke and all that pompous air outside the event house.

There was the seraph out there somewhere on the street. Nearby, I could taste him.

Perhaps it is time to admit in this fixation and devote a bit more effort to his cause. The effects of pretending otherwise are more disagreeable. Besides...

I've never had Victor before.

Victor Kazon

Date: 2010-03-31 21:47 EST
16th Kyuu, Cycle 21779

After last night's entry, I left for the bar, purifiers off. I had to check my internal chronometer this morning to realize I left almost two hours after midnight. Needless to say, I was crashed. I headed to my shell - alone this time - taking a rest on a bench near the markets along the way for a smoke.

That's where she found me.

As usual, she tried to f**k with my head. However, if there's one thing I gain from the bottle, it's a skuth detector. Either that or I just didn't feel that usual sense of ...intimidation? Whatever it is that she does to my head didn't work, or at least, it wasn't the same.

One way or another, it was the most lucid conversation we've ever had. She's a rare creature indeed, with a lifespan that rivals that of the Avarian emperors.

...and she eats the flesh of men to live. But when I offered her mine she would not take it. Perhaps she wants more from me than a simple 'feeding'? Only time will tell.

There are pieces I do not remember - I did not record the entire encounter - but there is one detail I shall never forget.

Her name is Anyanka.

---

23rd Kyuu, Cycle 21779

I have managed my ship's resources well, so I decided to survey a bit of this continent. It was relatively boring, until I ran a resonance scan... and I nearly shat myself. Six untapped veins, two of mithril and four of titanium. There could be even more out there. If only I could spare the power to scan the entire planet...

I am making arrangements even now to purchase the land areas. Fortunately, one capsule of my nanomachines and a stripped down mana cell was enough to fetch the required gold. Pirates will pay top mith* for just about anything, it seems... I did, of course, disable the seraph interface programming. I may be a defector, but I do not sell military secrets.

Unfortunately, I will have to establish a refinery before I can become completely self-sufficient here. There is no way to preserve power long enough to avoid a trip back to Prime to refuel unless I go into stasis, which is not an option.

I haven't seen Anyanka in a week. I begin to wonder if she's avoiding me. She does not seem the type to be scared away easily, but stranger things have happened.

---

26th Kyuu, Cycle 21779

I have acquired the land and hired a crew of twenty to begin work on the largest of the mithril veins. It will be unrefined, but if things go well there should still be enough product to make a significant shipment back to Prime. When I return to refuel I can sell it off, buy up five times its weight in gold, and use that to start a refinery here on 763. I can then fabricate mana batteries at will and even design nanotools, not to mention consumer goods.

It will take six months to establish a full operation, but once everything is in motion, my father's threat of 'cutting me off' will have lost its teeth completely.

Hell, I'll be rich. Today's lesson: Don't f**k with an engineer.

---

27th Kyuu, Cycle 21779

I went out for a drink... or twenty... to celebrate last night, and on my way home, there she was again.

We've got to stop meeting like this... but at least I now know she's not avoiding me.

This time I was at least sober enough to remember. She sat there with me... almost on me for the better part of an hour, filling my head with anything and everything. There's definitely something she wants from me, but it's a lot more than a bite of flesh or a night in her bed. There's something else, but I can't penetrate the veil she wraps around every word that comes out of her mouth.

I could not resist temptation this time, I used the optic filters**. It was a sight to behold. But what came next, I could never have anticipated. She knew. I have no idea how. Maybe she could sense my pulse elevating, or she saw the shift in the mana lens, as impossible as that seems. She started whispering in my ear, and it sent fire through every last nerve in my body.

I offered myself to her again, and again she declined, with some cryptic remark that suggested I wasn't ...ready?

Mithril's blade, I want her.

---

3rd Zyuu, Cycle 21779

Two nights ago, Darcy, a young lady I've come to call a friend here hosted a masquerade for her birthdate.

...and guess who was there. Anya was the loveliest I've ever seen her. We danced... or, rather, she danced, and I stumbled. But she was patient, and even seemed to pass some sort of enchantment into me. I felt weightless out there on that floor with her. I don't know how long we were there, it's all a blur of her eyes, her voice, the smell of her hair and the touch of her skin. Euphoria.

I woke up the next morning in her bed... but nothing had happened. At least... not that. I was still dressed, aside from my boots and sword belt, and she had slept curled up on me, almost like an animal... a very exquisite, gorgeous animal. It was... almost romantic. But I woke up alone, and once the purifiers cleansed my head of whatever spell the drink and the siren had placed on me, I made my way down the stairs to find her... and find her I did.

What happened next would change my life.


((*Straphian currency (credits) are based on mithril, and 'mith' is an often used slang term, especially by laymen and soldiers.
**The seraph cybernetic eye has multiple filters that can distort, negate, and ignore many substances and colors. In this instance, Victor looked through her clothes. Most clothing in Straphia has a special carbon-silicon compound weaving that disrupts this effect, although many still wear clothes that lack the weaving... usually to get a seraph's attention.))

Etherealdream

Date: 2010-04-07 00:19 EST
874; 87
Year eight hundred seventy four, day eighty seven

The salt and the undiluted vigor of the stage still sings in my body a day later. It was the many unsatisfying feasts I?d taken afterwards that still keeps my blood stirring, I?m sure. So many impetuous little viscounts still sour the sweet of my mouth. Sour? since when did flesh ever begin to hold such a taste? No matter. I hear a body slumping in the distance and he smells oh so enticing.

I found him again.

My seraph was quite hopped up this evening, there comes no real explanation for this, save, perhaps? Mm. All that metal about him, I?m quite sure it?s a key piece of sorts to the puzzle of his behavior; His insusceptibility to my voice.

For a while, still roused from the night past, I played my many word games. His eyes weighed heavily on me, but it was not a pleased weight for all the familiar manner in which he drank me in. It is rare to find a man tired by my antics. So I switched tactics, I tried truth. I commend my seraph; his breath was still lazy and even, his heart still a normal pitter-pat of action. Barely an eyelash was batted even as I spilt for him my desires and needs of the flesh.

Then came his offer, mm. I still remember the shiver of delight it poured down my spine.

I knew then I still could not take him. Not knowing the ripeness of his flesh is a slow torture I find that even now, home and aching, I would not trade for satiation just yet. All this aside? my Victor now has a name to set with the face already so heavily overwrought in his dreams.

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874; 94
Year eight hundred seventy four, day ninety four

My week has been unbelievably infuriating. Every bite I take and every man I handle has no substance; no salt, no body. For all I consume and all I mount, it might as well be air for what short bit of time it stays and fills me. Perhaps I?m going mad? I am reaching a significant amount of years despite my genetics. Truly, I can think of no other with such a cut to their blood that has attained such a grand age.

Perhaps my brain cannot handle it anymore? Doubt is not a thing I find myself used to.

I find my mind?s eye drawn back, however. Time and time again I search for a train of thought that does not lead to my body roaring with hunger, and each time I?m filled with the sense of? another. Getting out of the house earlier in the night didn?t help. The air was thick with the normal to and fro of the city, but there a scent stood out on the wind ticking up from somewhere distant; metal and man. Deep metal, precious metal; mithril? Mithril and Victor.

I curse the sire that raped my mother, he is the cause for my anomalies. Were I a truer immortal, I?d see the colors of the canvas I?ve become so fascinated by. Although I feel my control slipping, one thought above all else sticks with me?

My seraph will ache like he has never ached before. Then and only then will I take him.

_____________________
_____________________

874; 97
Year eight hundred seventy four, day ninety seven

He?d been out for drinks last night? I?d abandoned all else to be his shadow; drinking him in as he drank, hovering as a wraith does beside a fresh grave. I can hear the disappointment in his every step as he exited the building. I hadn?t approached him for quite a while, but feeling his anxiousness in the thick of his pulse as he watched me emerge from the dark gave me a sadistic sense of peace to know he?d been on a hair?s edge as well.

Down to a bench we?d moved, I sat there with him just close enough to let him feel the heat of my body; a world of half on and half off. His skin prickled with my nearness, but that wasn?t what set my teeth on edge. It was his need that struck me.

There was something to behold in the pour of my words across him. Though the bulk of them had little substance, he didn?t seem to mind; each curl of my tongue seemed to work him deeper? All without my voice. To this day I never quite thought I?d see a man quite as wrapped as this one within my charms. It makes me wonder how vivid a figure my seraph paints me on the back of his eyelids in the tight-fisted dark of his room at night.

Something changed in him? On him. I can?t quite find the words to describe really, for it was something I?ve never encountered before. The weight of his stare was exceptionally heavy, his breath had picked a pace more suited to the sudden lub-dub of his pulse.

Somehow he was seeing me nude, and I could not help but trill a quiet breath of sweet nothings to his ear. His tone was lower; a testament to his desire.

He offered himself again, and it was all the strength I could muster to slip away.

_____________________
_____________________


874; 100
Year eight hundred seventy four, day one hundred


There are those little moments in life where every aspect of unfairness seems to melt away; all is right with the universe, and chance aligns with fate just right.

Tonight was going to be one of those nights.

I?d felt it in my bones, deep and gnawing, as I rolled up the stockings and slipped the silken shimmer of gown along my skin. Tonight, my brain seemed to sing in a mermish hum; tonight, tonight, tonight. There was a tone to this insistent note that set my belly aching and alight with nerves all at once. I?ve not felt such unrest since my liberation. So much joy? so much promise.

I cannot stay long, but I had to jot these musings down simply to recall the sensations in some form other than the now.

Here is to hoping Ms. Darcy?s soir?e will not disappoint.

_____________________
_____________________

874; 101
Year eight hundred seventy four, day one hundred and one

Victor is upstairs in my bed; upstairs and alone, whole and intact, but in my bed nonetheless.

Reading my hurried thoughts from last night, I can conclude whole-heartedly that the event did not disappoint in the slightest. I arrived as I often did to a great gala; in undeniable style and glitz. Gems of the primary artist?s palette had danced across my clavicles; yellows, pinks, and blues. Each jewel a star that accentuated the glittering universe of my silken, rouge gown. Each item had been carefully tailored, each trapping a fit to the elegant curl of my inhumanly red hair.

I thought perhaps my seraph had died for a few moments upon sighting me; in truth, I felt his heart stop.

There was a moment when we danced that I felt his mind fall away into a state of complacent reception? Every word, every touch, every single ounce of my breath was his to bask in. Such utter devotion, and I?d barely laid hands to his skin. Victor?s mind had become completely wound in me, his body was meant to follow; all his inches caught by the invisible strings that?d fallen into place. Whisking him home was a task that even the simplest of children could have accomplished; had my seraph a tail, it would no doubt have been lazily wagging the whole way.

Urging him into bed was not too taxing a task either; he moved almost without question, his heart a volley of pumping muscle as my fingers painted pictures along the line of his jaw, his shoulder, and then the clothed expanse of his chest. There is a shape beneath that shirt?. Curious.

Despite the desire to strike, I laid there and soothed him to sleep. Now I await his waking with the sunlight warming my naked back and the smell of sharp, salted swine flesh crackling in the pan on my stove.

I hear him stirring, my seraph. I cannot wait. Tonight will be a night of infamy.

Victor Kazon

Date: 2010-05-04 00:58 EST
---Interlude II - Reverie---

19th Go, Cycle 21780 (Present Day)

Anya's taken Cerre* to feed, which has become an almost constant chore ever since the incident. I still can't quite wrap my mind around all this.

Cerre is little more than a child, despite her quite adult body, and that damn fool Avarian... he wasn't even supposed to mature for another decade**. Nonetheless, she now carries his child, and my Nischa and I have had cast upon us an utterly bizarre role of surrogates.

In short, our world is once again turned on its head.

Last night I took her to the Inn, and we got drunk. After the insanity of this week, I just wanted to forget everything, even if just for one night. Anya didn't protest... although, I had to resort to some drastic measures to take the weight from her shoulders. It didn't take long - at least, not once I'd wrapped my cloak around us and let my fingers work their magic on her. She even had the gall to call me a 'demon'... it was one of many things I once whispered to her when she toyed with my mind and body.

My mind drifts to the past. To the first time.

Then again, things weren't exactly simple then either. Nil val tol...***

((*Cerre is one of the four sirens who visited Anya (and Victor) earlier this year, and was taken in by Anya as a ward.
**Angel is 90 years old. Typically those of the Avarian line do not experience their first fertile phase until the age of 99-102.
***"Nothing worth anything", short for "Nothing worth anything costs less than everything", a phrase popularized millennia ago by Mithril I Avarian's memoirs of the Second Great War.

OOC: This is only a mini-post meant to prelude the much larger one that follows. I've been dealing with tremendous depression and writer's block, and on top of that it's now finals week. I will get to this as soon as I possibly can - this thread and the SL behind it is by far the most important thing to me on RDI, so please bear with me while I get RL situated so I can get back on it.))

Victor Kazon

Date: 2010-08-12 21:34 EST
---Interlude III: The Fall---

19th Go, Cycle 21780 (Cont.)

I remember everything. Most of my life and experiences - at least, the significant ones - are recorded and stored for reference.* This is different. I do not need a recording. I can close my eyes and shut down my systems and still remember every last detail.

The smell of her hair, the feel of her skin, the taste of her lips, all these things I have come to know as second nature now... but that day, the first time... It is more than a memory. I can relive it. Every emotion, every subtle nuance, every tentative exploration... still feels new.

---

2nd Zyuu, Cycle 21779**
((Adapted from live play, August 29, 2009.))

The smell and sound of crackling swine drifted through the air, and Victor followed it, confused and curious. Is she... cooking? I didn't think she ate... well... food. His steps were silent, having left his boots (and sword belt) where they lie from the night before.

At the foot of the staircase, he turned and followed a large corridor into the gleaming, gold and white glow of the kitchen. Anya completed this otherworldly picture of smooth, golden paleness, because she was standing at the stove bare as the day she was born. That wave of red, red hair was the curtain for the sloping expanse of her back and buttocks as she shifted on her bare feet before the stove. Delicate limbs moved, shifting the pan this way or that as what appeared to be a flat bit of dough flipped upwards in the air before it landed back down with a soft, wet smack in the cast iron skillet. Fine, pointed ears pricked, sensing Victor's movements long before he even began moving down the stairs in all his proud stealth.

Once he was close enough to grasp the scene in the kitchen, Victor stopped cold, the most incredulous look on his face. Pancakes and bacon... you've got to be f*cking kidding me... Several days a week he spent his mornings in a restaurant around the corner from the empty shop in the marketplace. This is what he ordered every time. She's been watching me. Much more than I thought.

He cleared his throat, still under the delusion that his so-called 'stealth' was anything but abject failure. "Well... good morning?" He smirked, giving up on any thought that his half-awake mind would be able to keep his eyes from roaming across every inch of her body.

Giving her hearing wasn't quite as adept as to pick up the sound of muscles in one's eye moving in a certain direction, if his gaze strayed, she wouldn't rightly notice... and even if she did, would he really think she'd react much further than a subtle, prideful curl of her ripe lips and a shake of the head? Those pale, foggy eyes slipped over the curve of her shoulder to him, and her lips did just that as she shook her head, correcting him. "Afternoon, really, is about more the time, wouldn't you say?" The thin pancake was flipped onto a nearby plate before she bent to deposit it in the oven where a healthy sized stack was already warm and waiting, along with thick, slab cut strips of bacon. Shutting off the stove, she pulled out the heavy tray.

Vic leaned against the wall, watching her work. "Honestly, I didn't know you... well..." sh*t, how do you say this without being rude as hell... "actually ate, much less cooked. Need some help with that?" He cracked a smile, reaching out as she immediately offered it over.

Her smile was ever the soft, subtle thing as she gave a little cant of her head. "The less eternal bits of me demand the occasional sustenance... And I've never quite made cakes like this before." A little hint, a small taste of her otherness and the mystery it always seemed to present him with.

As usual, his piercing gaze wouldn't give him any clues. Figures. Anyone else, he could at least somewhat read... but the 'blind' keep their secrets well, and he was having a hard time looking at her eyes anyway. Maybe... nah, this is too weird to be a dream. A moment later he took the plate, almost as an afterthought. "You're just full of surprises..."

"Many, in fact, sweet Victor... Do you have the patience to discover them all?" A fire bright brow quirked high, amused as she turned towards the marble glossed counter. Spindling fingers then began busying themselves with the source of the smooth, dark, savory scent that also perfumed the air. It was dark and poured just like liquid. A pair of ceramic mugs served well enough, and she brought them, black, to the table as she moved into an opposing seat from him.

A naked crazy woman just made me breakfast and... oh hell, forget it, Vic thought to himself. "What's that? It smells really good..." he gestured at the black stuff in the mug with a fork. He then brought his eyes back to the plate. Can't let that go to waste, after all... may as well follow the insanity.

Plucking up her own mug between her dainty fingers, her lips pursed as she blew on the hot liquid within. "It has many names, but I do believe the most common would be coffee." Clothed in nothing but sunlight and her peppery hair, Anya seemed as content as he in his clothes, perhaps she didn't even realize her nudity at this point, perhaps it was that natural inside her home. Taking a sip, she set the mug back down and stole a torn bit of pancake from the larger platter.

"Hmm, you really haven't had these before..." he grinned. "Let me show you..." He sliced through the entire stack, cutting off little towers, then skewered the fork about halfway through one and offered it toward her. "That makes me wonder... how'd you get the idea?" Victor was probing, of course, to see if she would tip her hand.

Snakes wished for such grace as the kind Anya displayed as she leaned forward and snatched the bite from Victor's fork. When her lips pulled back and her bottom found her seat once again, she gave the short stack slice a thoughtful chew. Upon swallowing her smile held a duel purpose; that ever present amusement and a small, innocent joy from the taste of her labors. A hand reached out then, her fingertips brushing a crumb from the side of his lip as she spoke. "Your taste... it seemed like something you'd enjoyed before." The scent of the cake crumb near his mouth, the minor deflection in his voice from the insignificant obstruction the crumb posed; all little things her senses managed to pick up. Who needed eyes?

Vic could only shake his head. Of course she wouldn't take the bait. Blind, my ass... as he took a drink of that odd black liquid. "Hmmm..." The taste was wonderful, but there was something else. Some chemical that sent the purifiers to work.*** While he was sure enough that she'd not stoop to poisoning him, he couldn't help but wonder what it was, at least for a moment. Through eating and drinking alike he was thankful for the subsystems that guided his movements. His eyes couldn't stay still long enough to focus on a damn thing he was doing.

It had, of course, occurred to him that this was another game, Anya sitting there naked and gorgeous, taunting him to do something. The voice that usually acted as a measure of sanity went thoroughly against its nature when it warned him, do it and there's every chance that you'll never see her again.

Games were a thing the slinky creature played well, but at this current, candid moment in time, the nude red head was simply enjoying the morning. Judging by the appearance of her home, she didn't entertain often, the place was too perfect and pristine; an eerie reflection of its owner, in a way. Anyanka could sense her guest's discomfort, and her brow quirked with the curiosity, unable, or unwilling to leave it remain unseen. "You are uneasy, sweet man, why so?" A cant of that head, a quirk she always seemed to cater to; it garnered a spill of that wildfire mane.

Vic took another slow drink from that mug, then set it down and shook his head. "It's..." Where do I even start? "It's just that..." he slowly stood, his mind pulling the words together, despite how much he didn't want to say them. "...every time I see you..." He made his way around the table toward her. "You wind me up a little bit tighter..." Coming up to the back of her chair, he rested his hands on her shoulders and leaned down to whisper, "...and you know what you're doing, Anyanka." The tone of his voice was sharper than he'd intended, but he again tasted her name as he spoke it. The purifiers didn't work for that sort of intoxication. "You want a lot more than a bite out of my skin."

((To be continued...))

((*The eye continually records, and his terminal has a tremendous amount of storage, but he frequently purges the more mundane events of his life. There is no viable reason, for example, to keep a recording of each time he lights his pipe or uses the bathroom.
**Victor's journal entry dated 3rd Zyuu, Cycle 21779 leads with "Two nights ago" - The night of the 1st being Darcy's Masquerade, and ends with him waking the morning after.
***The nanomachines in his system are acting to remove the caffeine from his bloodstream.))

Victor Kazon

Date: 2010-08-12 22:00 EST
Warm things, heavy and rough by comparison to the dove nature of her skin, Anya let loose the softest little croon of delight in the back of her throat. Not even felines made the subtle, roiling noise that vibrated in her throat. One of her own slender hands slipped up to trail through the grooves along a set of his knuckles, her own voice lowering an octave or two to match Victor's. "Gluttony becomes my kind... what can I say?"

His eyes had only closed for a moment - damn it, how did she do that? -but he opened them to find that his hands had started creeping slowly downward, along her upper arms, his fingers finding themselves entwined in her endless hair. He barely managed to rein them in, his mind occupied with untangling yet another utterly bizarre statement. "...you could likely say a lot of things... but something tells me you'd be a horrible liar." He stood straight again, extricating himself from her while he still could.

That momentary lax in his guard was a reward of sorts, she felt, because the slide of his hand's was nature's work-born divine. Honesty lived in those hands, and even a type of innocence, she tasted. "My words never lie, they only dance with truth... Lying means to be forsworn, and my pride would never let me do such." Quietly, softly, as if the world around them would break at any moment should her voice raise much higher. Feeling him move away, she turned, her eyes following his noise, the brush of air about him he left in his wake; all senses were upon him, her dull eyes shining with a sweet curiosity. "It is unfair, though, sweet Victor... You do not play the game of words so well and mistake me at times."

He'd feel insulted if she weren't so damn... right. She could probably smell the indignant look that earned her, so he didn't bother trying to mask it in his voice. "What... mistake have I made?" ...although, now that he thought of it, maybe she'd cut out the damn riddles if he'd just asked her that a long time ago. But... probably not.

"I will never betray, I will never lie, nor will I ever purposely mislead. My intentions are clear as an overcast day as of late, though... You have caught me, darling man, at a time when I've chosen to another path. The light you present upon it is dangerous, and it is a new game I play... You will desire me for me, you will want what I am, and you will take it when you can do nothing but taste me with every breath." Had she ever spoken so much or so plainly? Perhaps not, but she felt something coil in her belly, something dreadfully human. Any trace of it was bitten back before it could flicker to the surface though, she was far too prideful a creature. Slowly she slipped upwards from her chair, a hand lingering as she left her mug behind on the tabletop. Turning to face him at last, she offered him a slow, calm, steady gaze.

Her voice was enchanting, the words even moreso. Blood thundered in Vic's ears, and if he hadn't braced himself in time, he'd probably have fainted. Don't... the voice warned, but it was so many miles away now. His mind flew with images of taking her right then and there, but when he did move it was much slower, and more deliberate. He took her into his arms, his neck arched slightly as if he would kiss her, but stopped just his lips reached hers. "Tell me, what happens then?"

Flat feet shortened the difference in height, but for all the warm weight of him enveloping her body close, she felt all the smaller. It was a rare, good feeling, she decided, some men could have the presence of a mountain but the distinctness of a pea. Here, though, she rumbled pleasantly, her breath playing across his lips gently as the tip of her nose nuzzled a feathery touch to his. She could feel his pulse on the back of her tongue, wishing it was a candy she could suck on forever. "Perhaps we could write that chapter when it comes, together?" Something told the siren that she wouldn't loose an ounce of interest with this man, and she found herself catering new territory more and more.

The answer brought a certain satisfaction to him that, were he to see himself in the mirror, he wouldn't even recognize the look in his eyes. "I..." oh, just shut up. The look faded as his eyes closed and his lips met hers. It was no longer the playful kiss of a curious cat-and-mouse player, but a passionate, living thing that announced much greater intentions. Fingers trailed along her side, until reaching the curve of her hip, but he stopped himself short of the impulse to pick her up and carry her away. He didn't even want to move just yet.

Lips were such odd, silken things when they moved, warm and moist, hungry despite the lingering sweetness of syrup and the dark, savory bitter of the morning's drink. Something sweeter lingered a level deeper as she allowed her skin to give in to the tingle his tracing fingers brought with them. Like the winged one, the siren also had levers for her control, it's just that her own were much less noticeable; nature born. Sharp digits trailed like the pick of a kitten's claws up along the line of his shirt, palms finally coming to rest flat and splayed against his chest. She'd given her word, despite her many, many years of play, the initiate would be his. Only once over the edge would she give in to her own predatory persona.

Something in that touch, as her palms came to rest against his chest, felt strange to him. Was she... pushing him away? He gently broke off the kiss, his eyes opening once again. "Is something wrong?"

Flat, docile palms suddenly became a pair of tight fists against the fabric of his shirt. Nails bit through the cloth, her breath soft and warm against his lips as she let out a smooth chuckle. "I gave you my word of to keep a level of gentleness... But nature is easier to ride than fight." Her smile curbed, showing only a hint of those razor pearls she bore. Without further pause, she dipped to lay an open mouth to his neck, a combination of blunt edged teeth and lips.

If he were still nervous about what she would do to him, it no longer showed. Vic closed his eyes once more, a slight gasp as her lips against his neck seemed to send electricity through his nerves. His hold on her tightened slightly, as if he were trying to brace himself.

"I will take you away from the lead in your body..." She murmured amongst the hungry press of her lips, purring sweetly somewhere low and content in the back of her throat. She was drunk on the salt of his flesh, her teeth nipping only to pinch the barest edge of skin; just a taste, just for now. Her body pressed closer, an endless plane of soft, nude flesh against his front that urged him back towards the doorway. "...I will make you let go." She breathed.

Victor offered no resistance, as her whispers intoxicated what was left of his mind. The feel of her teeth against his flesh was almost too much for him to stand. Were it not for the mechanics in his legs, his knees would have buckled. Some deep, buried voice in his mind wondered if she knew that this is exactly what he wanted from her all along.

Lapping away what little flow that stemmed from the prick she'd created on his neck, Anya's lips moved back, baring into his mouth as though she'd lost something with every intent of finding it. She moved as always, like liquid, but with so much skin, that liquid was fire. Asking one to remember how they managed to find the plush magnificence of her bed was truly a folly, but blame that nature, blame the subtle magic in her skin. Fingers tore a hot path along his front, fabric protesting in it's little tearing cloth-voice as she urged his legs to the edge of her bed.

This time his knees gave, as the bed came up suddenly behind him. Before he could stop himself, he fell back bringing her down with him. The protesting creaks from the weight of his frame didn't even stand a chance of jarring his attention away from those tearing hands and lusting lips, but the thought did occur to him that there was no going back now.

Something darker touched her voice now, some level of want had succumb to need, and a thirst stole her body that she found all too painfully familiar. It was a fiery ache in her body she was eager to quench, and it was body she would drink from. "Victor.. Sweet man, dear lover... I taste your desire, but I cannot feel it just yet. Perhaps I should leave?" Offering to leave her own bed, and leave her own home? A game she was playing with him, no doubt, but she chuckled as her body began to slither backwards from him, teasing.

Victor's body sat bolt upright, the motion much faster than one would expect from a man with seventy kilos of metal in him. "Oh hell no, you don't..." A hand seized her by the thigh, the other wrapping itself around her back as he pulled her down above him.

---

At that moment, Victor's memory held still. That moment, with her hovering above him, the waves of her hair surrounding his face and shutting out the rest of the world, it was quite likely the most important of them all.

At that moment, Anyanka was no longer simply a woman. She had become so much more.

((To be continued...))

Victor Kazon

Date: 2010-08-15 19:12 EST
Craning his head upward, Victor whispered right into her ear, "...that's just evil," just before his lips met the side of her neck.

"Necessary evils, lover. Weaklings are not things to be allowed in a predator's bed.." Teeth flashed in a smile as much amused as it was teasing. The press of his hand to her thigh, the momentary feeling of vertigo as he spirited her back astride his body, she began to sink into him again, baring her neck in turn to allow his lips further room to play. Fingers crept up the line of his back, nails threatening to leave trails even through the fabric of his shirt. "You bear far too much between my skin and your body.. Remove it." She crooned impatiently.

Wings extended ever so slightly, careful not to cut her hands that reached behind him, slicing apart one of the few shirts he ever wore that wasn't tailored for them. After that, it ripped away with a single pull. "Your wish is my command..." Victor's lips twisted into the familiar smirk, but stained heavily with a dire lust he'd never quite felt before. The wings retracted, but their housing in his back was now exposed, along with a bizarre scar down his chest, shaped like interlocking teeth along his breastbone. As always, the wave of self-conscious thought came over him. These were few times when he regretted the seraph program, but this was always one of them.

What she could not see with her eyes, she found with her mouth, for it was an eager thing that memorized what topography it could reach. For all the hard, sharp edge to her teeth, Anyanka minded the softness she explored; blood was a thing so easily drawn even along such a metal ridden body. The way he'd first saw her walk was the way she crawled along his body, tender bits dragging where her mouth and hands couldn't. She was repulsed by nothing she found, on the contrary, the scar tissue was the thing she paid the most attention to, nibbling gently at the gnarled trails of flesh. Scars meant violence, survival. To bear such marks meant strength; though all predators craved their prey, their appreciation for them grew in the power they bore. "Intoxicating..." Came her appreciative purr as her hips found a fitted mark against his own; grinding, teasing.

A gaze that started as surprised turned to enthralled, then nothing as his eyes closed almost involuntarily. Her 'appreciation' of the program's mark on him touched nerves he didn't realize he still had. As he leaned heavily on one arm to accommodate her exploration - he had little choice in the matter, and offered no protest - his free hand brushed her hair back from her eyes, fingertips tracing the thin line of her jaw and the soft skin underneath.

The touch he offered was obliged, her head lifting as though it were a cloud teased along by the wind. The fire bright silk of her hair tickled and trailed as she canted her head, neck stretching as she moved with the tracer he offered her delicate jaw. "Gentleness is a thing I've exploited, dear man, would you shed this now for your captor before I draw my fill?" Dangerous, low, hungry, her head turned so her lips could capture the tip of his finger, drawing it in for a sharp nip from the teeth hiding behind those lush tiers. Hips were a slow thing all their own, and she was determined to feel his need before she struck.

Your captor... the words brought an expression that resembled blades drawn out at the corners of his lips. "Is that what you imagine yourself?" He turned, taking her with him as he rolled over, careful to let her feel his weight against her, but bracing himself as not to rest fully upon her chest. "My captor?" The silver of his hair fell to frame her face, intertwining with a pool of red. The image was quite bizarre, and brought a strange thought to his head that he immediately fought to dispel. It was not a difficult task, as desire had long since taken over thought.

One would wonder, perhaps, what the seraph saw; bone against flesh? Ivory against rubies? The familiarity of his hair splayed amongst hers? Either way, it wasn't long before the blind creature found her head canting and her lips drawing a sweet, split line that splayed the sharp nature of her teeth. A hand rose to find the line of his shoulder, fingertips tracing with nails that held all the fine poise of an artist's attentive gaze. "Perhaps I misspoke, hm? Or do you truly see yourself taking me?" Another challenge perhaps? Another jibe? Another playful lover's ploy? Her kind truly were gluttonous, but in all the best ways.

?You talk too much,? his reply was simple, and his lips met hers again, this time to silence her barbed little riddles. He relaxed almost too much, as the feel of her skin against his bare chest drove electricity through his blood. It was a moment before he realized what he was doing, and he instantly propped himself back up. Damn it, he thought as he gave an apologetic look, hoping he hadn?t hurt her.

"Don-" Muffled, silenced, her? A sound low and keening in the back of her throat gave him all the insight he'd need, no doubt, to her delight at his impulsiveness. The weight of him was crushing, yes, but as the slender creature beneath him rebuked and moved up against him, it was clear she enjoyed the challenge. Zealous fingers bit into his skin when he pulled back from her, drawing him back down, eager to feel the shortness of breath. "You second guess your needs too much," came her half growling reply as her back bowed, her body arching up into his, her mouth seeking the warmth that had left it.

You're f*cking crazy, Victor's thoughts were painted in his eye, although he relented to her grasp. He had little choice with those nails digging into his back. His lips met hers again, and he slowly relaxed against her, trying to fight off the image his mind had kept of her bones cracking beneath him. It didn't take long before he'd lost himself in that kiss again. Fingers twining through her hair, others making their way down her side to her hip, that was when he realized he was still dressed from the waist down. However, taking off his pants would require breaking away from her, something he wasn't quite capable of just yet.

Eels didn't move as slick as Anyanka did then as a hand slid down around the width of his torso, slipping to the warm skin between them. Clever fingernails sought the cloth she felt binding him from the rest of her, its tightness told her many things, but one lit in the back of her brain as a wicked smirk molded her lips against his; he wouldn't miss these pants. Buttons were popped mercilessly, ripped, and the tearing of thick material was a furious shriek between them as the siren began to rend the leather from his body; no easy task, but with a bit of a scratch to his skin and some effort, they'd find the thickness of his thighs by the time she was done.

Victor's eyes widened at the display, although it certainly wasn't the first time he was forced to wonder what the hell she really was. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. The blood was thundering through his ears again, and shock gave way to lust when her hips pressed up against him. He finally found the words he was looking for, "I'm sure of it now. You are the devil."

Victor Kazon

Date: 2011-05-18 12:09 EST
4th Zyuu, Cycle 21779

I woke up the next morning, soaked in blood and euphoria. She was curled around me like a snake, her lips still pressed against the deep wound she'd torn into my shoulder the night before. Such a wound would have been fatal before I became a Seraph. I was delirious, and not just from the lost blood. I love her. My eyes fixed upon her face, her gently closed eyes, her endless hair flayed out all over the bed, all over me. I love her.

What happened next is still a blur. It happened so fast, and I suffered repeated trauma, but I must make this record, lest it happen again and my memory does not survive next time.

When Anya awakened, her eyes opened, and they had changed. My gaze no longer met the milk-white, useless orbs I'd known, but a clear, beautiful blue, deep as the ocean. She started to murmur, then at the same split second, the two of us knew what had changed. She could see me. I was frozen in shock, but she... she turned to a state which I could only call... feral.

With a shriek, she leaped from the bed and... almost staggered into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her, so hard that my mana eye could see subtle cracks form in the oak.

"Anya?" I rose painfully from the bed, careful to keep from reopening the wound her teeth had left. "Anya...?" I crossed the room and began to hear running water.

Another shriek was her only response, then two words that froze me in place, two words that stopped my heart. "Get out!"

My head was already spinning, and this ...turn... was too much. I called to her, but her responses devolved from words to growls and pieces of what I believe to be a language I could not decipher. "Anya... what happened? What is this?"

Then came a loud crash and the sound of breaking glass. I acted on instinct alone, magic and muscle alike propelling me through the door, breaking it from its supports. Inside, I found her collapsed, the sliding glass door shattered by the bath, and a bleeding Anya in the water.

When I approached her and tried to pick her up, she awakened. She fought like an enraged dragonling, teeth and nails flailing and gnashing, but I could not relent. She was hurt, and that was all that mattered.

However, I slipped during the struggle, and the first thing to hit the stone tile floor was my head.

Everything went black.

((To be continued...))

Etherealdream

Date: 2011-05-22 10:18 EST
874; 103
Year eight hundred seventy four, day one hundred and three

I should not have let him linger. I should have ushered him out of bed and out of my home the instant everything of him to be had had been had. Even now as I try to beat down the ferocious pace of my heart while he sleeps, the question that keeps haunting my mind is the why.

Why?

Perhaps it is the first signs of age blurring my judgement. Perhaps I am simply tired of the instability. The stage offers much, as does the lifestyle I've carved for myself over the centuries, but some things... I just do not seem to have.

I am becoming sentimental. Is it because I have been alone too long? It is not the norm for my kind to live solitary lives. We are community based, yes. Poisonous a community as they may develop to be, it is still a community. Have I been bending the laws of my nature too much? There is no way of telling, save the furious riptide of my own emotions, which seem to have gotten worse, and better, since the seraph. No.

My seraph.

Violent and beautiful. All my venomous rage and anger aside, our joining had been both of those things and so much more. Had the viral side of me not taken over post coupling, make no doubt there would have been more. Yes. Much more. That power I sensed in his body; all that metal and strong, corded flesh working in virile symphony beneath me as I rode; there is no comparison I have to give.

And his blood, oh the taste of him. So foreign, so pure. Refined even.

Despite the abuse, and his unfortunate position after the weaker half of me began to take over and bleed me human. It is commonplace, as much as I loathe to admit it, but this time had been the first time in quite a long one that someone had witnessed it. My outrage was understandable, but his injury was not. It still is not.

I've thought several times over about just ending all the chaos and killing him. Make no doubt of it. The thought has come more than several times, and each time my fingers itched. My muscles coil even now just at the promise of blood and flesh, but I simply cannot. Such a paragon should not be ended with a sharp edge to the throat; he is not a bitch's runt pup to be disposed of. Still, the ease of the task is the greatest tempter with him lying prone as he is-

Ah, there is the bell again.

Coin pays for much. Speed, silence, efficiency; all these things and more. My name intimidates enough to ensure those three precious commodities do not waver in their quality, of course, but the coin is the greatest incentive other than fear. The errand boy looked whiter in the face than my seraph, but it seems the weight of silver in his pocket and the promise of gold brought him back. Most excellent.

For now, I leave to tend to my seraph. It still remains to be seen whether or not I shall further try to puzzle him into the intricate web of my existence or simply eradicate him.

A admission of love though. That complicates the matter a bit, for he is no simple by the roadside I've enchanted for a meal. This is adding to my worry. No matter, there's the bell again. Practicality will continue to dominate for the time being as Victor lingers in the black.

For all my urge to dispose of him, I find myself hoping he wakes.