Part vampire Part warrior
Carnivore and voyeur
we all feed on tragedy,
it's like blood to a vampire

Dusk falls; a languid hush that envelopes the land. A vehement half-cry, half-whisper. It feels eerie and still. Soon, the moonlight swells with abandon, an opulent silver crescent accompanied by the pitch blackness of a starless night. It envelopes him - swarms him.

Everything around feels desolate. Alone. Haunting. The lone figure of Amaroq lingers by the shadows. His one icy eye peers from the swathe of calignous shade with a wrathful but silent intensity. He's returned. But he's never felt more hollow. He's alive.

But he's never felt more dead.

Memories come to him, but they're fragmented. He leans his head down. His lips trail the surface of a cracked skull. He picks up the scent off the dark earth, cold and moist. Comforting scents, strange scents, an eerie call to life and decay. It distracts him from the moment, the silence of his new reality. He moves through the shadows, and he moves like a wraith. Cold, unfeeling.

table by ryuu

Oh, he is too close to her home. To close to the only thing in the world that truly mattered to her. Her body grows taut, every muscle and fiber within humming with barely contained power as she Blood Mother prowls behind him. A quiet ghoul - a single red eye peering out with an intensity that would sear souls.

The darkness aids in her approach, silent and without sound - her paws used to traversing the heavy sands that made up the Boneyard. The thick of her sways in the wind, her tail sweeping along the cascading sands as Teodora approaches @Amaroq in a wide arc, hoping to be unseen in the cover of the shadows.

The bones surrounding them cast many of them, all deceiving and distorted. She is seething as her small form slithers up into view, that single ruby red peering at the beast before her with violent intent, "Why are you here?" She hisses out, her voice a harsh rasp - her tones distrusting and devoid of any friendliness.

Part vampire Part warrior
Carnivore and voyeur
we all feed on tragedy,
it's like blood to a vampire

The darkness swallows his form. His athletic mass moves as if a serpent; male muscles, saturated in half-moon light, half shadow. Hymnals of the deranged coo their eerie whispers through his mane. Each whisper of wind sounded more unholy, more maniacal, than the last. He can feel the night's frigid touch settling against his skin. It feels familiar. This yearning.

He imagines they are voices in his head. Voices. Ghosts. Dreams. Fragmented memories. They don't matter now. Nothing matters. He is lost. Lost - forsaken;

A voice pulls him from the void of his subconscious. Dark, commanding. Beautiful. She achors him to the living world. She is laced in sin and danger, when her predatory form prowls closer. Amaroq can note the blood of @Teodora's fur, and the silk white of her porcelain breast. She's graceful and petite, carved in a carnal way, that drives his male curiosity to a keen awareness. Her savagery only made her appear more alluring.

"Can't sleep," He whispers back, a dark and guttural voice. His icy eye trains upon her, chasing the shadows that danced along her curves. He makes no move to close the distance between them. He's cold, devoid, and without emotion.

table by ryuu

She sees it the moment it happens, the moment his mind returns to the harsh reality surrounding them. Gaze narrows, her one good eye ever focused on every little move he made - every breath.

Can't sleep. A simple admission, one that made sense for any mortal. It almost left the woman disappointed, yet still in the deep of her mind - curious. Teeth flash briefly, the heathen stalking closer with unknown intent.

In the darkness she seems to fit the most, her slender form basking in the glory of the moonlight. It illuminates her form, casting terrifying shadows along the sands with each step.

The small dunes beneath their feet trickle down, creating spiraling swirls before settling to begin anew. Toes splay, digging into the soft, palpable surface, another hiss expelling from between her teeth.

"This is not a place for the living." Or did he know that already? Was this the place he had chosen to die? There is a hunger in her eye at the prospect, her slitted pupil dancing downward toward his neck before flicking back toward his face.

Saliva gleams along those ravenous lips as the ghoul takes yet another step closer, "Keresed a halált?" Do you seek death? She whispers with a feral coo.

Part vampire Part warrior
Carnivore and voyeur
we all feed on tragedy,
it's like blood to a vampire

Slivers of moonlight sprawl against his scarred muscles. It descends his backline, swallowing the masculine edges of him in their delicious beryl. It feels illuminating, to be consumed by such tender moonlight. Beneath him, the skulls seem to hum, the veil lifting between the living and the dead - a tempest song; one that has always called to him.

Their bone-white faces and eyeless sockets peer alongside his massive paws. Their expressions and broken faces make for the voiceless anguish. The worms twist against the digits of his toes, as if stirred to life by the silent hush and fall of his soft breathing. Not for the living. For the dead. And yet, here she is - alive, breathing.

A ravenous flame. An unholy tempest, come to ruin.

His ears swivel lightly to catch her words. She speaks in poetry, some words he could not understand, nevertheless, he understood their tone. Forward yet elusive, soft yet dark. Dangerous words, from a slender woman dressed in vermillion silks. A smile, dark and quietly malicious, edges Amaroq's lips. She moves closer, saccharine and lethal. He can see the diaphonous strings of saliva glinting against her pearl teeth.

He does not flinch from the predatory display, standing only tall and sentinel like a crimson soldier. He invites her closer, feeling his grimace deepen; an arrogant smirk twisting his dark, facial contours. Amaroq says nothing, not caring to entertain her, staring only into the half-white, half-crimson of her face. If she is his reaper - his means to an end - then tonight; he wants her.

@Teodora

table by ryuu

She is keenly aware of the arrogance that drips off this beast. It is almost palpable and causes a volatile reaction within the woman. Was he like the others? So foolish in their belief the women were beneath them? Teeth flash once more, that glistening saliva ever a subtle threat. There is an urge to rip and tear, to test the mettle of his flesh and taste it. The ghoul dares to inch ever closer, her head low even as his raises.

"What do you want?" She snaps, her muscles dancing beneath the thick of her coat. The woman practically trembles with barely tempered fury. It is alive within the room, an entity all it's own that suffocates and intrudes upon the moment. This was her life - the way she lived each day. Consumed, unable to rest, or live - happiness did not exist for her. Not when darkness thrived in every corner, when suffering happened because of men like him.

"A man who does not speak merely to hear his own voice..." She drawls in a low, contemptive hiss. The hair along her spine raises as the distance between them closes, nostrils flaring to take in his scent. "How quaint." The ghoul finishes, teeth snapping together with a resounding click. Still, he was invading upon her space - to close to their precious Homecave. She would need to lead him away - or kill him.

Either one would do.

Part vampire Part warrior
Carnivore and voyeur
we all feed on tragedy,
it's like blood to a vampire

Hunger and emptiness had become the core of Amaroq's being. He feels her hate; the gnashing whip of her feminine acrimony and silent rage, bubbling like molten lava past her lips. Each of her words seemed laced in it. Every atom in her graceful body, seemed to be screaming to tear him down - rip him asunder; bury him six feet under, with no light of salvation beyond his grave. For reasons, he knew not why.

Even still, he welcomed it. Her hate. His silent invitation, apparent. He is quiet in his callous apathy, allowing his wintry gaze to devour the narrow space that seemed almost breathless between. His one eye will settle icily upon her flesh, a merciless reflection of his own fiercely independent nature, betraying no emotion save for a wolven sort of look. Feral and wretchedly silent.

Still, he did not fear her endless wrath and violently suggestive demeanour; his own wrathful nature sitting just below the surface of his carmine flesh. Unfettered by her dripping fangs, and the beautiful angles that dripped of predatory, female intent. Whatever oozes from the pores of this crimson banshee, Amaroq only mirrored it. He is the hushed silence, after her wild storm.

"Nothing. I want for nothing."

And his voice is cold; distant. He stands tall and strong, but inside, he feels dead and hollow. He wanted for nothing, he had nothing. His life was meaningless, empty. Devoid.

@Teodora

table by ryuu

Despite herself, she feels it - a call, a pull. A kindred soul. There is darkness within his soul, a howling void of nothingness that begged to be filled. By what? Teodora could not say. Only that it was an instinct she knew down to her core. The words he speak betray the cold, distant demeanor he lets on.

No.

Teodora's voice cries out inside of her, soft, quiet - but the ghoul quells it with a hiss. With rending fangs and ripping claws that give no quarter. Tongue slips from her muzzle, sliding along glistening teeth as they're exposed in an all too threatening manner toward the male.

Regardless of her curiosity; there were still distinct aspects that kept her from delving too deep. Ones she could not ignore, else her soul would scream in defiance. He is male and he is unknown. This makes her blood burn, her skin crawl - the vicinity in which he lingered was too much.

The heat of his body causes her spine to tingle, the hair raising in silent warning. "Liar." The Blood Mother finally hisses, nose wrinkling with distaste. Her voice is a hushed, harsh whisper of sound that carries toward him like a violent, yet tempting siren's call.

Part vampire Part warrior
Carnivore and voyeur
we all feed on tragedy,
it's like blood to a vampire

He, too, feels drawn to @Teodora. A silent whisper in the dark. A soft cry, echoing in the spaces of his mind, pulling him closer in their siren thirst. It is almost enough to make him ache. To make him feel emotions he thought he'd buried long ago in his past. Perhaps, it's this same feeling that curls a shiver of fear down his thoughts. That rooted him to the earth, despite his unwillingness to stay and entertain her violence. He secretly feared it.

Love.

And yet, still, he does not speak, even as she calls him: Liar. As if caught off guard, something violent hammers in his chest, then. The wealth of emotions rises to the surface of his one eye, no longer an icy frozen lake that yearns for winter's emptiness, but a storm of feelings; ready to explode with an immaculate hunger. He had endured so much pain and loneliness in his life. He felt weak, now - weak, before this red goddess. Perhaps, she is truly a reaper come to take his soul, afterall.

"And here I thought I could hide myself from the world," He begins, still not moving towards her; an unflinching blade before the mouth of hell. You know me, he wants to say further, to fill their endless void with the sensations of flesh and touch. To know her scars and secrets, like she knows his. Something dark and yearning stirs in Amaroq then, but still he does not move, even as his gaze sweeps against her curvaceous frame; studying her as though he were a soldier before the dark statue of a malevolent god.

table by ryuu

The ghoul is silent, they both seem intent to stare upon the other with wrathful eyes. There is a secret depth to the Blood Mother, yet few - if any, had ever tried to see past it all.

It was only the blood of her kin that knew the abyss of her despair. The cruelty of emotions was abandoned long ago when the prospect of love brought her only pain and torment. Betrayal. His words, the baritone of his voice prompts a hiss to usher forth from her clenched jaws. Slitted pupil dilates, becoming near nonexistent within the furious ruby red of her remaining eye.

Toes splay as one paw lifts, then descends back toward the earth - her small, ruffled form inching closer. The vibrance of her claws glint in the lowlight with a promise of violence. Muscles quiver as she tilts her head, peering at him now with a hint of curiosity. "What is the use in hiding?" When your past was always haunting, always chasing. Teodora knew with intimate knowledge that one could not escape their past, no matter how hard they might try.

Glistening teeth flash at the male before her features settle, looking almost normal; though always is there a trace of malcontent along the feminine, sharp edges of her mask. "Összetörtél." You are broken. A word he would not understand, but perhaps in his soul would know. Eyes dance along his form slowly, though it is hard to allow herself to find appreciation in anything but the fury that seemed to fill his heart.