Part vampire Part warrior
Carnivore and voyeur
She feels the void within her constantly consuming her. Eurielle feels winter deep in her soul. She feels her sharp hunger; the loud, wailing cries of northern winds as they lash at the earth, violently. Exquisitely. Only the warmth of the sun - as if a whispered kiss - would settle against the maiden's flesh. A distant reminder that she is of blood and spirit; passion and life. The arctic sun beams upon Eurielle now - raw, soft, wild; the sky, a hazy breath of cloudless blue, that touched and reflected against the snow in all its gossamer transparency.

Eurielle moves beneath this first touch of light, this empty plain full of hunger and want and prayer. Full of beauty, of stillness and bone-white death made of frozen corpses. Her demeanour seems shy at first, her steps graceful, cautious and entirely feline; but she is languid in her repose. Slinking stealthily and calmly across the ground. Feeling the sunlight descend her spine and thighs; the only flush of heat, warming her flesh.

Rubescent eyes will watch the snowflakes as they fall down, down, down. Each second feels longer than it should. She tastes the snow as it settles upon her lips and caresses her long, sable eyelashes. When she inhales, and exhales, she feels like she is apart of this frozen universe. Like she is its lover - where every intimate secret would be savoured like a promise against her tongue.

we all feed on tragedy,
it's like blood to a vampire

she's far from the fields of celosia — where the sunlight wasn't bitter and the earth was delicate beneath her softened, battle blind paws. each step is met with a crunch! as snow and ice crumple beneath her weighty, clumsy gait. the great expanse of the freeze opens up before her, a wasteland made handsome by the gleam of cold sun across the blinding snow topped ridges.

in the emptiness, she can her breath rattle in her chest as she walks. billowing clouds leave her mouth as she pants. the air feels thinner here; choking with an arctic chill that cuts through her thin fur and furls around her flesh and bone. as she comes to a halting stop, snow begins to fall and her eyes cross as she gazes up at a near cloudless sky, following a singular flake before it disappears from sight into the whiteout that is the freeze.

but that's when she spots it —

a flurry of movement, agile and graceful. a stark contrast to their monochrome surroundings. violet eyes watch as the mauve feline slinks ahead before finally coming to a stop, seemingly called to admire the gentle snowfall. they were two of a kind, then. or at least they would have been, if not for the other seeming to enjoy the frigid breeze.

"it's freezing," camille muses out loud, voice pitching up to carry across the whipping winds, more so for the delicate creature ahead of her. the snow didn't cause mirages, did it? her teeth clink and chatter to emphasize her statement and she suppresses a shiver that causes her skin to prickle beneath her fur like frosted goosebumps. "how do you stand it?" @Eurielle

ART BY YUMPY

Part vampire Part warrior
Carnivore and voyeur
Hungry is the iron maiden, rubescent gaze marveling the wicked, wonderous beauty surrounding her - a curiosity made manifest. She drinks in the sultry ambience, each feverous slant of light, each quivering curtain of snowfall, as it gently descends her graceful frame. Enveloping her curves in a bone-white gown; she feels soft - eternal. Each snowflake touches her tongue as her jaws ascend heavenward, the taste of falling snow, fallen dreams. O sweet mountain water, as it lingers in its icy severity against her lips. She savours the freshness of it. The purity of the white earth and wild, northern air. Everything feels perfect in this moment - perfect.

Even her eyelashes were coated to the snowy brim. Cat-winged liner, so thick an obsidian line, accented by heavy eyeshadow - feathered by an abundance of snowflakes, that she now looked like a porcelain doll. The breeze falls in sharp, cold waves; her long, lilac fur bristling against the arctic undulation. Eurielle is a vessel of ethereal light; of sensual darkness. And so invested is she by the light, by the beauty of winter, that she barely discerns the voice of a stranger, coaxing her from her isolation.

Gently, the maiden turns, ruby eyes drinking in the delicate, golden features of the other. A silken smile would touch Eurielle's lips, her voice, a silver bell; soft, dark, neptunian. "When you live for the moment, you forget all else but the beauty and abundance surrounding you," Eurielle's breath falls from her lips in a tangled plume, a lacy mist weaving past lithe, porcelain fangs.

"I do not fight the cold; I move with it," Eurielle whispers quietly, softly, taking a step forward. Feeling the snow sweeping against her talon'd toes; the warmth of the sun sliding down her back, and how her serpentine body seems to sway forward in their cloying dance. The only shiver that slips down her spine is the cold whisper of winter; its breath entwined with the sighs of sunlight. Another step towards the other soul, and Eurielle, as though extending forward a polite hand; offers her a name.

"My name is Eurielle. What is your name?"

@Camille

we all feed on tragedy,
it's like blood to a vampire

violet gaze — so lost in a sea of white, tangled against an ocean of lavender. camille nearly forgets her trembling as she watches them move with a fluidity that could only be feline. could only be female. the fairer sex, made stunning by delectable curves and a sway that pulls her attention with each step. the acolyte wonders briefly if she is a frozen apparition in the icy wastes when an immediate response doesn't reach her, then as she curls towards her, camille suddenly feels very small beneath their wine drowned eyes. self conscious, even when this stranger speaks, soft words trickling through a smile only reserved for the beauty of sirens.

unconsciously, camille blinks back the sloppy, wind tousled tendrils of her mane as if to hide it from view. she feels too gaunt, lacking the twists and the turn and the curvaceous hips of the maiden before her. clumsy and heavy pawed; a child where the other is so obviously woman. the flower crested upon her ear has nearly wilted against nature's wrath, its petals frostbitten.

"When you live for the moment, you forget all else but the beauty and abundance surrounding you," and camille has forgotten all else except for the sweet, sweet visage of @Eurielle. she finds herself stepping forward at the same pace of the other, attempting to meet her step, to mirror the shift of her body in a gentle, yet demanding samba. "show me," the golden lioness says, frost nipping at her beneath her short fur, but already, she's thinking less and less of the arctic chill and more and more of the divine beauty in front of her.

how could she ever compare? ever live up to something so...

"eurielle. beautiful." camille gingerly takes the metaphorical hand reaching towards her as she offers a name. she twines their fingers with an awkward fumbling charm and smiles, bright, enchanted by what she could be - by this siren of the winter. she swallows her jealous admiration, seeking to close the gap between them. "i'm camille."

ART BY YUMPY

Part vampire Part warrior
Carnivore and voyeur
Every exhale feels like release;

Like religion.

Her soft breath expels, such silky mist tethered and untethered; the winter air pooling from Eurielle's lips like a tangle of curls. Her rubescent eyes drink in the other maiden, finding beauty in their soft, golden curvature.

There is an innocence to Camille, those violet eyes full of adoration and a youthful kind of purity. A naivety. Eurielle could stare at her, forever. The lioness looks like dawn-light. Eurielle is reminded of summer sunshine and blue skies.

And as Camille steps closer, Eurielle feels like blushing.

Eurielle's not entirely used to the attention of others. Always alone, always off, running on her next adventure and never bothering to stop and make the connections. Apart of her wants to shy away from the lioness' would-be touch; to drift like a leaf against the imploring caress of wind.

But Eurielle, stays.

She leans into Camille's slender body, pulling the other girl into a soft, slow dance. Feeling the cold wind against her lilac fur. Feeling Camille's skin, so delicate and feather-light, brushing against her skin.

"Like this," Eurielle whispers, taking a few steps forward, her hips shashaying against the other's. Metaphorical fingers weave against one another, entwined like fairies, like lovers.

She hopes to pull Camille into slow dance; so they, too, might feel the crisp beauty of winter, the steady rhythm of two hearts, and the warmth of their breaths lingering upon each other's flesh.

@Camille

we all feed on tragedy,
it's like blood to a vampire

she feels emboldened.

soft, fumbling, gently, she moves to sway with @Eurielle. her paws are heavy as the ice that built the foundation of the tundra, her movement slightly jilted, but she dances, following each step of the satin lioness'. camille dares herself not to look down at her feet, to focus only on the other woman and the howl of the wind whipping in the distance.

alone in the valley of amaryllis, camille realizes these are the connections she misses the most; she's a creature that thrives from touch and closeness, perhaps too trusting for her own good, and so she clings to the bewitching, welcome form of eurielle. her cheeks flush, skin warm as they touch, the twining of their short fur and impromptu dance striking lightning in her belly.

camille blinks back snow from her lashes, ears tipping forward as she focuses on eurielle's breath. she follows the lead of the other woman, seeking to slip her smaller form closer. it reminds her of the dances and festivities of her homeland — rhythmic shuffles and stomping, fiery songs, slow two steps and lively jive that carried on deep into the midnight hours every season. she convinces herself to reenact the festivities she's seen in her short years despite how awkward and graceless she is, made brave by eurielle's encouragement.

she hesitates for a moment, once again distracted by ruby eyes before she eurielle and press her chest to meet the pale breast of her partner if she would allow it. camille giggles quietly under her breath (and still it echoes into their frozen ballroom) hoping to place her chin along eurielle's shoulder to step in a dazzling waltz.

"you're a natural," her whiskers flutter, dainty as a butterflys wings. "sorry, i have two left paws." the acolyte almost feels as if she should apologize further for being so gangly, too sheepish, not as pretty but forces it down instead to shift her attention back to the moment; to the tender fun she's having.

@Eurielle

ART BY YUMPY

my lover's got humour
she's the giggle at the funeral

Hunger, passion, desire; all felt within their entwined, curling fingertips. Shy though, like a discreet memory pressed along the skin. Soft, delicate, unfurling like a rose in full bloom. Camille was day and Eurielle was night. Their connection would be saccharine, laced in the adoration of feminine and seraphic intent.

By their celestial caressing, and light (curious) touches, Eurielle would marvel at Camille's bravery, her beauty, her courage. The golden woman dripped of demure honey. Her partner's skin, the color of golden blossom; those dark lashes, now fringed in bashful heat and pale, white snowflakes.

You are beautiful, Eurielle thinks, blinking absently, her face the stillness of an arctic river; her breath the feral wolf, that drinks in the moon-soaked, misty air.

Within Camille's bashful adoration, Eurielle feels her heart beat with a fiery, yet secret passion. They dance, twisting, turning. Slow and sensual; warm and steady as a slow-spinning drug.

Eurielle, the lilac maiden, twirling against the golden curves of Camille. Both maidens were unique, each one, beautiful. Vampy Eurielle with her wine-hued irises and pale skin the color of lilac silk, involuntarily leans into her counterpart; a velvet-soft sigh leaving her lips. A soft barely-heard whisper that leaves as wintry suspire spills from her delicate jaws.

"Oh," Whispers Eurielle, shyly, demurely, unable to fully take Camille's compliment yet cherishing it all the same. "You are doing wonderful, as well," Came the encouraging response, as Eurielle feels Camille's breast touching alongside hers. It is enough to bring the heat to Eurielle's cheeks.

When their dance comes to a pause, Eurielle is turning to fully face Camille; their lips nearly touching. Their breathing, entwined. Eurielle feels like drowning within those violet eyes, their hue burning brightly like amethyst gemstones from the darkness of lush, gold fur. For a moment, Eurielle says nothing, only a delicate and shy hum leaving her lips.

I've never kissed a girl before, Eurielle thinks, wondering. Have you? Eurielle wants to ask, but she does not, she hesitates.

Her eyes on Camille, blinking gently. Sultry almost.

@Camille

table by ryuu

as opposite as they are, bewitching and angelic, the sun and moon, its like they were meant to be here.

camille finds herself entranced in their waltz; lifted by the mauve lioness' femininity and satin touches. this place seems almost too cold for her with how her closeness brings camille's soul to a broil. a gleam of soft laughter pools from her lips, misting the air between them in a small cloud. her tail dances just as they do, delight found in every twist and turn. she can hardly remember how embarrassed she was by her first steps, especially when eurielle compliments her.

there's a quiet thank you that is self deprecating in its own right (because she's certainly not as magnificent as the snowy siren) but its lodged beneath the lump thats settled in her throat. she doesn't realize that she's been staring in the slow lapse within their dance. imaginary fingers trace the ink blotted marks of @Eurielle's face, the curve of her cheekbones, the flutter of her thick lashes and the pout of her lips.

when the acolyte's eyes rise to meet the glimmer of rubies, she feels nearly pulled in. her breath is sweet, sweet and camille doesn't think she's ever felt this before. the wind whips overhead, jostling her, encouraging her: do it.

camille presses up on her toes ever so slightly, attempting to press her nose against that of her dance partner's. its innocent. a chaste touch if she was even allowed. her whiskers flitter, soft as the snow that twirls around them, twining near eurielle's own in a delicate butterfly kiss. she can't hide the blush that darkens her pale cheeks, the slight tremble in her toes (the cold or something more) and shyly, fearing rejection, but too charmed to turn away, she asks: "can i...?" a girlish lilt of nervous laughter swallows her quiet words whole, lost to the empty snowblind fields of the freeze. her ears press against her head bashfully but she rights them quickly. she doesn't want to miss an answer. "can i kiss you?" camille clarifies, asking permission, allowing eurielle an out if she's got this all wrong.

but camille desperately hope she says yes.

ART BY YUMPY