I DO NOT CARE FOR YOUR GOD

It was the middle of the day, and Markus found himself once more outside Ecrosia. He did not mind it there (after all, he had been there over a year now since his arrival), but it was nice to get out and explore during the daytime. The excessive heat that seemed to plague Amaryllis today was uncomfortable. It was the sort of heat that got under the skin really, really easily. The heat that made lion's itch, the heat that made lion's tetchy and on-edge. Markus was not free from this uncomfortable feeling, either: the heat really was carving itself underneath his skin as the day progressed.

Evermore Glade did not provide much relief. He needed to be near some water, and this was not the place that seemed to have any. The Rike should have known this, and he plods up the small mound that seemed centralized to the sub-biome. Idiotin. He curses under his breath, shaking his head as he made his way to the nearest tree.

@Sersie

CODE BY DAANYEN + ART BY 86

The heat was fucking awful. It crawled along the floor of the earth like noxious poison, a miasma to choke out the unfortunate. Much like a worm caught in the sun's rays, Sersie feels like her movements are nothing but a crawl. The desert was unforgiving this time of day, unaccustomed as she had been to it's blaze the lioness finds herself seeking out something better than endless sun.

Amethyst grove is a place she has yet to fully explore, as was most of Amaryllis. For now (and by comparison) it was a welcome relief compared to the oasis. And, full of more prey too. All the more reason to work on her unfortunate condition in private.

She'd never admit it, but missing a limb made life challenging.

The lioness finds the scent of a young deer, and follows it closely, crouching and working on using only three instead of four to steady herself. Her tail has become precious in her adaptation, though Sersie still struggles horribly with keeping balance. Many a time has she falled face first (or over herself) in an attempt to prove herself unfazed by such a tragic event.

She springs from the sea of the Grove and lopes in awkward cadence after her prey. Their chase gives way to the glen, trees dispersing to give way to waves of green grasses. The soft shff of their bodies whirling through it was enough to alert anyone that a hunt was taking place. Unfortunately for Sersie, her speed was no longer a viable means to secure food. She can feel her body tiring faster--working harder--the distance between her quarry and herself lengthening. Her gait drops slowly, an odd lope, then a hop-riddled jog, to finally full stop. Tongue wanting to sprawl in a pant from the exertion and heat, she sneers at the dent in the grass where the doe had gone.



@Markus

code by daanyan, Art by Rabbit

I DO NOT CARE FOR YOUR GOD

Markus discovers that it was not as easy to find a tree that would provide enough shade from the relentless heat as he had expected. When he does eventually find one, the colossal brute is quick to settle and enjoy a temporary relief from the otherwise irritating heat.

Whilst he was not normally one to stare, the figure of @Sersie is quick to come into view. Markus was always one to admire a woman when he saw one, but this one was particularly ugly. Scarred and missing a limb, he is quietly fascinated with the way she worked hard to catch the young deer she had been chasing. A small part of him wanted her to be successful, but when the doe escapes, Markus cannot help but snort at her failure.

He was not prepared to rise from his shadowed-slumber, so the Rike man takes the opportunity to call out to her. Such a shame that doe had an extra leg on you, Markus calls out with a musing smirk, the corners of his lips quivering upwards. It was quite a show. He expresses, wondering just how long it would take to wind the other up to the point of snapping.

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Such a shame that doe had an extra leg on you, 

The words cut through the palatable silence, her gaze drawn to a massive creature bathed in shadow. Lounging, of all things, below a sparse tree. How long has he been there? Watching? There was a small tinge of fear that ran in her gut, soon swallowed by misplaced confidence. A scoff comes from her mouth, a throaty sound before words really formed "I've heard better from a water logged corpse" she retorts loud enough for him to hear, standing still and ready for any sudden movements. Sersie may enjoy fights, may revel in the bloodshed, but today she had not been searching for such activities.

It was quite a show.

A subtle eye roll, "Oh I'm sure, isn't it just a pleasure to watch a lioness hunt? All that power, and beauty." that was the truth, even she would admit admiration for a huntress in her prime. "Must be rough, lounging about under your singular shadow" she quips sarcastically.



@Markus

code by daanyan, Art by Rabbit

I DO NOT CARE FOR YOUR GOD

It is his words that cause @Sersie's attention to snap away from the lost doe to the smirking figure of Markus. His tail tip idly tapped against the dirt beneath, a small cloud of dust unsettling around him before falling back to the ground as he watches silently, without a sound. Her retort was a hollow one, and Markus does not retaliate. Did you kill that water logged corpse, or did you stumble across it? He asks, before adding: Or, did it eat your leg?

Markus rises from his idle slumber with a stretch and a yawn, arching his back downwards as he pulls his taut muscles loose. He descends from the shadow he had found shade in and closed the distance between him and the lioness. Eventually, after silence reigns between them, Markus sits in front of her and wraps his tail neatly around his paws. He takes a moment to study her. Power and beauty, hm? Markus wanted to probe the bear, to see how far he could push her before she snapped. I'm not sure I see that in you.

CODE BY DAANYEN + ART BY 86

Did you kill that water logged corpse, or did you stumble across it?

—A pause—

Or, did it eat your leg?

Her gaze is fixed on him, unwavering. Blank in expression, save perhaps, the little glint in her eye that follows her everywhere. Blank in expression, save perhaps, the little glint in her eye that follows her everywhere. Blank in expression, save perhaps, the little glint in her eye that follows her everywhere. Funny man, she thinks, oh so fucking hilarious. The only indication she even feels the mild agitation is the twitch of her tail.

”Yes, of couse it did. It was a zombie, came back to life right before my eyes.”voice littered with sarcasm, if the eye roll wasn’t enough. ”Of course it didn’t. This is the result of my nature. A man in these lands claimed that leg for his own.” she wondered for a moment, where exactly her severed limb had gone. Did Violarum keep it? She’d be proud of such an achievement had the roles been revered. ”Astute observations, I did happen to murder said corpse. A past time, if you will.” the stump of her arm gestures where her full limb would have been.

Sersie watches carefully, ready to clumsily bolt or fight should the need arise. The dark male rises, and walks lazily—descending to her like all the stories of demons come to make a pact. Sersie was just the kind of woman to make it, to give her blood in search of power and stregnth—consequences be fucking damned. As he sits, she relaxes, doing the same. Green and macabre white take him in now; his stature, the hair of his mane, the dark aura the seems to follow. He speaks then, breaking the silence entirely.

Power and beauty, hm? he says, . I'm not sure I see that in you.

Now she cannot help but give him a sneer, though again it hadn’t been the worst thing hurled at her. Sersie tends to ignore the ignorant, the stupid. But here, soemthing tells her she’s dancing with a devil—to tread a little more lightly than she liked to. Perhaps it had been a semblence of sense learned from the mistakes she committed. The sneer fades, and she takes a breath ”Of course not. One cannot be vain when they want nothing but blood and carnage” she smirks, the thought almost making her claws rake the dirt where they sat. But Sersie refrained. ”One of the worlds few delights.” and she couldn’t help but wonder if the male agreed.



@Markus

code by daanyan, Art by Rabbit

I DO NOT CARE FOR YOUR GOD

It turned out, much to Markus' dismay, that @Sersie was a little harder to provoke than he would have liked. She was a stubborn brute, but the Rike male seemed to enjoy the game. It was like cat and mouse, only this time with words.

He watches her reaction carefully, only to be greeted with a blank expression. His mismatched dual-tone eyes study her features, and he notes the mild twitch of her tail. She is cracking, he thinks, and with that thought a second smirk forms on his features. Sersie eventually reveals that she had not been born with three limbs, but instead someone from these lands had claimed it for his own. Supposedly, she had done something to warrant such behaviour, but Markus himself knew the darkness that lay within men. He'd succumbed to it twice - ripped off a man's paw for the sake of it, and killed another lioness (or so he thought) simply because he could. Did he eat it in front of you? He asks, seemingly clinging onto the macabre.

Markus had been lying, of course. He did see power and beauty in this lioness, but he was not about to admit it. Is that what you want, blood and carnage? He asks, wondering if he had stumbled across a lioness who aligned with his internal rage and need for chaos. Because I do.

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Did he eat it in front of you?

What a curious question to ask, and one she had not considered. The memories of the aftermath were quite blurry indeed, but judging by the character of her sister--and likely company she held--Sersie could assume he hadn't the stomach. "The ruler of Lorien at the time didn't seem like the type to indulge" she offers, electing to keep the part about her clearly passing out (almost dead, almost there, breathing became hard again just like before) to herself.

All neutrality seems to melt away at his next words. They could've been the cruelest, gruesome things and it would've made her smile all the same. A wicked turn of her scars crinkle with the facial folds, head tilting just so to convey her curiosity--how enticing.

"It's the only thing that gives me any sense of passion, stranger" she admits almost with a girlish charm. Nothing like speak of guts and gore to make her skin crawl in anticipation. "You know my favorite? It's when they think you're weak and you prove them oh so verywrong, then paint the earth in shades of red. she smiles, continuing "But mostly, it's the ability to take. I've had a few trophies in my time, sadly lost. Slowly I plan to rebuild." he would either recoil in disgust or indulge himself and add. She doesn't know which, nor does she care. "Death and I dance an intimate tango, he has not taken me yet nor shall he."

--another pause, she studies him closely--

"And what of you? What is your favorite?"

@Markus

code by daanyan, Art by Rabbit

I DO NOT CARE FOR YOUR GOD

This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers. Trigger Warning for mentions of sexual and misogynistic themes.

Markus was, despite the absent emotion on his features, enjoying this conversation. There was an edge to @Sersie that made him want to claim her for his own benefit, make her his wife so that she could not escape him, and fuck her for both of their pleasures. These thoughts remain trapped inside his mind for the time being as his eyes continue to devour her.

He dismisses her comment regarding the ruler of Lorien, the topic of her missing leg no longer of interest to him. Her words that she speaks next, though, do seem to ignite a fire within the Rike man. He rises, and moves closer to Sersie, so that he towers over her. He can feel her breath on his skin, and he smiles. It seems a shame I have not seen you paint such things red, He comments, his voice in a hushed whisper as the tension between them grows. I can help you rebuild, should you want it. I have a powerful family. A suggestion she would be welcome to take, should she so desire.

But then the conversation turns on him, and he smiles. This was the kind of conversation he could get in to. I like it when they scream. He retorts, pausing for a moment. When they beg me to stop, and I carry on... because I can. And with that Markus leans in even closer, foregoing all barriers of personal space. Is that the kind of thing you like? He asks, his voice barely a whisper.

CODE BY DAANYEN + ART BY 86

This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers. Trigger Warning for mentions of Sexual Assault, Violence, Misogynistic views, Abuse

Charming fellow, he is.

Nearly to the point of making Sersie swoon. But not in typical fashion--there is no sweet flush whispers to the ear of a lover, no promises of tenderness. This is a raw, primal lust that electrifies the air. One that beasts of carnage and blood know well. His scent is intoxicating, she questions whether or not he possesses something more than the average lion does. Did he even exist? Was this truly a demon from another plane of existence?

She wanted to know, to feel, to dig deep and let this sort of darkness take hold. To give the reigns up to the gods and march on with Hades to the underworld.

It seems a shame I have not seen you paint such things red,

"No, but there is still time. Perhaps we can paint together? she suggests in a rough sounding purr.

I can help you rebuild, should you want it. I have a powerful family. he says, barely more than a whisper.

"Is that so? Not exactly my thing--being parts of 'families', but I won't turn down help, especially from like minded individuals" she says in hushed tones to match his, eyes half lidded, smile more suggestive.

And the description of his favorite things? It almost makes her shiver. He knows not of the violence begotten, nor how men have ravaged her as punishment. It was this behavior that broke Xylia and birthed the thing that stood before him, ready to fuck in the dirt like the animal she is. Flesh rendered unwelcome, spoiled, rotten. And she reveled in it, basking in the darkened glory of a whores shadow. She was nothing more than said pleasure sack in her earlier years, but now she was one with a weapon. Guile, guts and grit. An unwavering iron resolve. Determination to rival the devil himself.

And a hunger for such carnal desires that she nearly imagines herself tackling him playfully. But Sersie resists. Her smile tweaks in the right corner when he asks:

Is that the kind of thing you like?

She lets silence resound as his whispered questions dissipate into nothing but a soft echo. "Let me be your muse." she suggests "A cup to fill,"


@Markus

code by daanyan, Art by Rabbit