TRIGGER WARNING !!
This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers.

Frequent mentions of Cannibalism, Morbid Thoughts, Blood, Violence

The captivating scents that filled the air wrapped around her like a seductive embrace, pulling her deeper into their intoxicating allure. They whispered to her, promising forbidden pleasures and igniting a fire within her that could not be extinguished. Her body bore the scars of her latest conquest, the taste of blood still lingering on her lips, yet the pain was a mere echo in comparison to the insatiable hunger that ravaged her soul.

With a body at her feet, torn and defeated, she stood as the victorious predator, driven by an undeniable purpose that fueled her every move. The madness that consumed her was not born of chaos, but of a primal need that demanded to be fulfilled. The crimson elixir called to her with a voice that could not be ignored, urging her to drink deep and indulge in its sinful delights.

The air was thick with the heady scent of blood, a symphony of desire that pulsed through her veins and urged her forward. Her body, a canvas of fresh wounds and spilled life, bore witness to the relentless hunger that clawed at her insides. There was a ferocity in her gaze, a wild hunger that knew no bounds and would stop at nothing to claim its prize.

In the midst of her savage cravings, she was consumed by an ecstasy that only the taste of blood could provide. Whether it flowed from her own veins or spilled from another, it mattered not. All that existed was the overpowering need to consume, to satisfy the flesh eater within her that demanded nothing less than complete surrender. And in that moment, she was untamed, a force of nature driven by a hunger that could never be quenched.

The scents that danced in the air beckoned to her like a lover's embrace, beckoning her to succumb to her darkest desires. But nothing could quell the unquenchable thirst that ravaged her insides, propelling her on a quest for more of the intoxicating elixir that only blood could provide. In her veins flowed a primal purpose, a hunger that drove her to the brink of madness, a hunger that would never be satisfied.

Please, father, have mercy
God has mercy, I don't

table code by scorpixia ♡︎, gradient code by daanyen, image by celeste

TRIGGER

WARNING!

This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers. Trigger Warning for mentions of cannibalism / violence

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It just cannot be helped. Like a lamb to the slaughter, she draws near to the locus of anguish. Closer, and closer, she creeps towards the scene of execution; tantalized is she - enraptured. Céline breathed in slowly, noting the intoxicating aroma of ichor as it filled the air, yet she did not falter in her pace. Certain that the mountainous terrain would blend into her form, she crept onwards. Silent, stalking. The predator which hunts the prey is, too, hunted by all.

Her verdant eyes peer upon the cadaver, as well as the woman who laid claim to it. Silently, she observes @Miaran. Awaiting patiently for her next move; merely a passerby in the grand scheme of things. She is here to learn, and she is here to espy. Nothing more, nothing less. She is not hesitant, not afraid; no, if she is caught, then so be it. To her, the tantalizing promise of knowledge is worth more than her life. It is what she lives for, her purpose. To study the world around her, and - in turn - its inhabitants.

Never before had she experienced such a ritual, nor thought of the possibility of its existence at all. To consume oneself - ones own kind. Was it spiritualistic? Filial tradition? Cultural? She could not be certain, so there she stayed. A silent audience. Nothing more, nothing less. This was an opportunity she could not pass up; how lucky she considered herself, to be able to partake in such a ceremony. Céline nearly felt as though she was participating herself. She was so close she felt at one with the stranger; however, a fair distance still sets them apart. She was a fool, yes, but not so foolish as to near any closer. The woman did not exactly privy the idea of being served as the second course. Even if it was something she could come to terms with if it did so occur._{BG — ART — CODE}

TRIGGER WARNING !!
This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers.

Frequent mentions of Cannibalism, Morbid Thoughts, Blood, Violence

The venomous viper devours it all, her insatiable hunger fueled by a burning desire for retribution. She has endured hardship, betrayal, and pain beyond measure. And yet, even as her own blood flows from open wounds, Miaran stands tall in defiance. In this cruel world, she may find acceptance or rejection, but she pays no mind. Those who lack the strength to consume their own conquests are nothing but weaklings in her eyes.

With a grey pelt stained with blood, the air thick with the scent of copper, Miaran stands as a fearsome predator in a land of prey. Her thoughts drift to the harrowing memory of the Mire, where a malevolent witch defied the natural order by resurrecting a fallen lion. Such dark sorcery is an affront to life itself, a blasphemy that Miaran cannot abide. Death should be final, a law that must not be broken.

As she gazes upon the lifeless corpse at her feet, she knows that he will remain in eternal slumber. His vital organs now a part of her being, their essence merging in a macabre communion. Some may label her as a madwoman, but to Miaran, it is primal instinct, a legacy passed down through generations. Though she may have left the Mob behind, their savage ways are etched into her very soul.

Unaware of the predator lurking in the shadows, Miaran continues her feast until her hunger is sated. Her focus remains on the lifeless form before her, every sense attuned to the dangers lurking in the darkness.

@Célestine

Please, father, have mercy
God has mercy, I don't

table code by scorpixia ♡︎, gradient code by daanyen, image by celeste