The only Heaven I'll be sent to
is when i'm alone with you

dark, feral, his rugged silhouette cuts through the sable thickets - all sharp angles and lithe, masculine lines. there is an easy swagger to the way he walks; pressing forward into the darkness feels as easy as sin, and the red titan moves forth with predatory wrath, indulging in his wanderlust. restless. he had felt restlessness ever since he had awoken from his healing slumber, and while the brook and their queen offered him shelter, there would be no amount of comfort to truly tie him down.

burning in his chest, were a gaping hole of dead dreams and emptiness. his heart is a hollow chasm of nothingness, of dark thoughts and dead prayers. riven feels numb as an iciness radiates from the core of the leviathan, an animalistic kind of desperation that clung to the undertones of his frigid, cold aura. his one-eyed gaze pierces the night, swathed in moonlight and stillness. he's unsure why he's out here, anything to take his mind off the endless voices whispering in his head.

@Poe

black moons
in those eyes of hers

There is nothing but ambrosia and fury pulsing through her veins. She would bleed gold and rage if anyone were to slice her tender flesh, but they would have a difficult time keeping their appendages intact before they came within a whisker of her touch. There is a monster inside of her that she has never felt stirring before her pregnancy had taken root and if she were to be pressed on the matter, the huntress would say she is almost afraid of it. She doesn't recognize this bitter, angry lioness; pregnancy has bridled her with a new face that she hadn't been prepared for. The only time she is ever soothed is when his arms wrap around her and pull her close, but otherwise? Otherwise she is feral. Hungry. A fledgling vampire on its first hunt.

She is a flash of lilac in the treetops as she expertly slips from branch to branch with a hare clutched between her teeth. A thin line of drool slips from her mouth as she anticipates the meal to come, but first she must return back to her makeshift hide in one piece. Nyaxia doesn't realize there's a man below her until her paws slips (her balance has been a disaster since the weight redistribution of her pregnancy) and the hare comes tumbling out of the branches to land with a moist thud at the stranger's paws. She hisses under her breath and scrambles back to safety, her eyes narrowing as she peers down. Perhaps it's best to change the tide of things before assumptions are made.

“You look like you could use that more than me.” Play it off casually, my girl. He'll never know.

The only Heaven I'll be sent to
is when i'm alone with you

the hot breath falls from his lips - edged in whiskey, curling against something smoky, brutal - tangling against the dark lines of his criminal mouth and wolfish features. the winter soldier appears dishevelled in his countenance, sleepless nights and late-night wanderings; he's dark, rugged and all things dangerous. the swarthy man continues to take in the deep inhale, his breath fanning across the misty atmosphere; the wild, barely supressed wrath and diaphonous suspire, breathing out like cigarette smoke against the rough angles of his face.

there is a carelessness to riven, a mindless thirst - a wanderlust. there are a hundred things running through his skull, a hundred voices screaming and twisting their fragmented sounds within his tortured soul. the heathen, the soldier, finds no reprieve, even when he's alone. even when he's prowling the forest like a hungry friend, searching for anything that might distract his deranged mind. anything that might sate his predatory curiosity.

distraction eventually comes in the form of fragrant female flesh and blood - lots of blood, a whole wealth of it. @Nyaxia hangs above him like a shadow, like a noose, an angel scorned, before something suddenly falls from the sky. the slender corpse of the creature thuds - lifeless - to the floor. their broken bones lay mangled across the black, moist earth. its limbs would splay outward, as flecks of blood splashes upon riven's angular face, his features saturated by the sudden impact. riven, however, does not react - he barely looks surprised. only a wicked grin forms over his sable lips, as the soldier finally looks up, up, up.

over there.

up, there.

between the shadows, between the long, gnarled limbs and dark branches.

he sees glaring orange-silver eyes, first, something fiery and celestial, brushed over lilac lines and a - haunting? - beautiful visage, staring down at him. riven's lips curves upward a trifle more, and the smile that stretches his lips feels too rushed, too tight. already, he wants to see more - he wants to see her. but it doesn't sit well over his devilish features. his smile feels too hollow, his smile looks too empty - more wrath, than charm.

more animal, than man.

"want it back?" he purrs darkly, dangerously, ready to climb the tree in one swift powerful move, and gift it back to her. he licks the flecks of blood from his lips. he likes that taste of blood - mixed with earth, mixed with gore and death and the silver softness of moonlight. o, he'd like the taste of her even better, surely. silently, the soldier wonders what that might be like. he wonders how her vengence and her wrath might taste against his tongue. he wonders if she would slip from those branches. if she'd fall straight down into him - into hell.

"i can get up there. give it back to you." he flashes her an icy wink, the scars over his rugged features twisting like black snakes in the moonlight. his voice is all cold and brutal. try as the soldier might any amount of humour always sounded disturbing, coming from his tainted lips.

black moons
in those eyes of hers

Artemis holds her breath, waiting for Adonis to see the goddess perched so precariously in the trees. Mortal men are not worthy to gaze upon her body whatsoever and she has half a mind to turn this fiery lion into prey for the hounds, but she is not yet so disturbed by his presence that it warrants it. Not yet, although she can already feel malice radiating from every pore in his body like some sort of infected wound. Her lip twitches imperceptibly as she stares down, casting holy judgment, as the man finally turns his attention upwards and spies her there.

“No.” Her reply is sharp, a knife blade drawn across a lamb's throat. Nyaxia does, of course, want back her prize; but she would sooner die than simply let this stranger do as he pleases. “That's probably not a word you hear often, is it?” Her temper flares with surging hormones as she channels every ounce of male audacity into one stream of anger. “No, I do not want it back. No, I do not want you to come up here. Yes, if you come up here, I will knock you straight back down.” The Amazon curls her lips freely this time, knowing her lithe frame will enable a quick escape through the trees if need be. Nyaxia sighs, clearly exasperated with the whole conversation that has only just begun. But hopefully not for long. “Take the food or leave it.” Nyaxia hisses down at him, poised to flee at a moment's notice.