Bloodlust (Malice_Nightshade x Daltin)

[Daltin]

"Winter's bite has come again. The cattle will grow more careful in this weather. The young no longer venturing far from their homes, staying closer to the safety of parents and elders. Such fragile creatures, that when crystalized water falls from the sky, they cower in fear, hiding away in hovels they called home. The bravery they show in the summer, venturing out into the sea, conquering and raping the lands of others turns into weak cowardice as the snow falls."

The cold, unforgiving words fell across dull, thin lips. Harsh, sharp, black eyes pierced out across the landscape from the balcony of his castle mounted high on the cliffs along the coast. His castle was near the ocean to instill fear into those who even considered approaching, for what kind of a madman would live so close. As the seasons change and the winter gale comes across the waves, it is as the icy breath of death itself panted across the shores. The cold breath so intense that ice built up upon the trees, docks, and anything that stood more than a foot off the ground, even to the point of shards jutting perpendicular with the ground, as if the very wind had frozen against it. This same biting frost painted the outside of his castle in a coating of ice, yet even the powers of nature feared to enter into any window or crack. The elements dare not stir up his wrath.

As he turned from the window, his long coat swung behind him before coming to rest again as he slowly marched back into his castle. Long, silken black hair was free to fall and brush across his shoulders, framing his sharp, firm jawline and drawing the eye in to his angular features. The balcony opened to a short set of stairs, the firm clack of his hard shoes against the stone floor echoed out in the empty room before dampening on the vibrant, red carpet that stretched beneath the long dining table. It had been so long since the enormously extravagant table had been used, not since a time when his kind were more predominant in the world. Times have changed. Humans were spawning young who actually had spines and dared to challenge his kin. Many fell to the numerous tools and sciences the humans had begun creating, despite how infantile they were in the knowledge of such things. Still, they managed to harness fire rather destructively. Attempts to destroy his kind, often involved the destruction of entire buildings, villages, as they were unable to understand the true spirit of fire. Huamnities abilities merely allowed them to direct the destructive forces initially, after which they possessed no further power.

And where the natural no longer served them, they turned to divination for strength. Silver, crosses, and other mockingly pathetic attempts to channel their spiritual energy into an effective weapon, there might was so weak they needed to beg outside sources for might. If only they knew, it was their own soul that generated the power, the strength of their faith opening long forgotten paths of power.

Many humans have come after him using such primitive techniques, some had even managed to damage his body on occasion. However, these were fleeting moments that he quickly healed from, as he savored her artery pumping there still warm blood into his lustful mouth. Feeling his teeth puncture violently into their throat, piercing flesh and opening there life essence to him as he fed. There was a time when feeding brought him a sadistic rush, now it had become simply a means of eating, and one he indulged in more rarely. Still, the memories gave a slight rush as he relived those days from long past.

As he past each seat, he trailed his cold digits across the fine, polished wood and spoke out, "Valim. Arela. Dorian." Seat after seat, he recounted those who once gathered along with him and were either returned to the grave, or had vanished from him. The thoughts fluttered through his mind, and for the first time in a long time, he tried to recall what it felt like to mourn those who were gone, to feel separated from another. Remorse, guilt, pain and all other emotions had fled from his heart long ago and now he only mimicked such feelings. Perhaps, something in him wished to remember his humanity in some small way, or habit from those years when his humanity still lingered. Whatever the reason, he maintained the ritual of expressing emotion as he abandoned his gathering hall and made his way to the upper levels of his castle. The loud, echoing clack of repeating the slow, rhythmic motions of each step until they suddenly stopped.

His gaze rose from his destination as he slowly turned to gaze back down the stairs. His face remained stoically firm as pointed ears twitched slightly, before speaking with a curious note, "So. A mouse has come scurrying into my home. Such a dreadful, dirty pestilence."

 

[Malice_Nightshade]

There was once a princess born under a land ruled under a red star, it was a land with unforgiving winters and warm sweet summers, the princess went by the name of Anastasia, she beautiful and looked almost exactly like her mother, in looks and personality, she had a fiery spirit, if she felt that there was something to fight for she would fight until she had no strength left to fight with, but she was also sweet and innocent. Ana was born to the ruler of this land was known as a Czar, his name was Nicholas II, he was a handsome, strapping young man with short hair of mahogany and fierce eyes of ice blue. Her mother's name was Alexandra, a spitfire with a strength all her own, her features we're special and rare. Her skin was pale, and fair like fresh cream, her hair was soft and fell in chocolate waves upon her back, but her eyes were intense and ice blue, just like her beloved. Her gaze was more fierce than even Nicholas's the reason being was that she was a mother, Alexandra was highly protective of her children, all 5, one particularly harsh winters they all contracted pneumonia and died, only Ana was strong enough to survive.

Then one night her grandparents came to visit, they stayed in a nearby town, but a few weeks had passed and they had returned to their own lands and Ana returned to her own home, but something was wrong, she walked inside to find everyone dead, no rhyme or reason, just...dead. It was the new year, but she had lost track of time all together, it had been years since the mysterious death of her parents, how many years was it? She didn't even remember, what she does remember was how badly it crushed her, so she left Alexander palace to get away from the pain, but one can not run from their own heart. She was a strong, fierce woman, outgoing, and fearless. Her eyes were an ice blue that could contend with the blue of the icicles that hung from the trees after an unforgiving, harsh Winter storm, and though their color compared to ice, the was an unspoken fire within them, of strength and a nearly unbreakable will.


She wandered around the towns of this remote, rural area, helping those in need while hiding the pain of her own hardship. After a while it became repetitive, and here heart grew dark watching families shower each other with love, her anger drove her to a sadistic madness. She began traveling to everywhere and nowhere, she had become a wanderer, a woman that could wander everywhere but could never settle down, for a while she had found herself in Japan, curious about martial arts she studied a style called kendo, and a sword style known as kenjutsu, a style where no mercy was given to its victims. She was a sharp woman who learned quick so her mastery time of both arts was cut in half.

Then she found a mad swordsmith his name was Muramasa, he was testing out the fluidity of a cursed demon blade, it was cursed because Muramasa, who named the blade after himself poured his own sadistic madness into it. After teaching her the art of the blade, Ana hatched a plan. She snuck into his room and grabbed the bade, as soon as she touched his madness only added to her own, but oh, that surge of power she felt once she picked muramsa up. She walked quietly into his chamber and found him sleeping "thanks for the gift" and ran him through with his own creation, she cleaned the blade and returned it to it's sheath which she put in a holster and slung it behind her back. She continued to wander but her heart always brought her back to mother Russia. The people heard of her new skill and paid her to help take down robbers and other two-bit hack crooks. One night, while she was at the bar and overheard two men speak of a cruel king in a mysterious castle that was miles away atop a cliff that overlooked the ocean, the only way to get there was by foot "I'll kill this man for you, but I require compensation" the entire village gathered from every villager which announced to a hefty sum. What annoyed her the most was that they kept staring at her breasts, so she calmly unsheathed the demon blade, having mastered it's blood lust "keep starting at them an I will hunt you all down and neuter you, better yet I will castrate all the men and turn them all into units, do I make myself clear?" Instantly the men averted their gaze and she sheathed her blade.

They told her where this king lived. The trip would take a few days, she thanked the men in her native tongue and walked off, she hadn't noticed that their faces blushed as she walked away. She walked for a-day-and-a-half taking small rests in between. After she rest one last time before nightfall she settled down to sleep. The next day came and Ana woke, she stretched dug herself out from the fur coat that was her only protection, growing hungry she ate a rabbit she killed and skinned the night before. She cleaned up only to cut herself on her skinning knife, she cleaned her wound with a little bit of snow and left her supplies, it would take a few hours to get to the castle, but her furs kept her warm, unfortunately, her bust was so large she had to get clothes fitted to accommodate her heavy bosom. She finally reached the castle and went inside, she heard him walk up the stairs and followed, she discarded her fur coat to reveal a corset fitted to her small waist and enormous bust "your words are hilarious, the filthy leach is calling the mouse a pestilence, a little ironic, don't you think?" She purred in a thin Russian accent. She had no idea what would happen next.