END OF ALL THINGS // CLOSED Mar 19, 2018 15:18:13 GMT -6
Post by Deleted on Mar 19, 2018 15:18:13 GMT -6
Far could feel her legs trembling uncharacteristically beneath her as she took a step forward. Then another. And another. Until she felt the red stone rise in a jagged path, leading her to a higher altitude. She couldn’t smell the salt of the ocean in the air through the blood clotting in her nostrils, but she could damn well hear the pounding of the sea against the butte. It came in swells, and her audits strained forward to take it all in. Wide, crimson eyes trailed along the path in front of her, and she coughed violently in between foot-falls. A thin trail of red followed in her wake, the droplets of blood flowing freely from her fur and pads of her paws. Smears of it coated the rocks she passed over, and flecks would stain the dry, tan bracket on either side of the narrow path for weeks after she was gone.
Gone. What a terrible word, full of finality.
Energy ebbed from her body as her life-blood trickled from the gaping wound in her throat. Her jugular was torn open in a grotesque mat of muscle, blood, and fur. The fact that she wasn’t drowning in her own blood as she struggled up the rocky butte was a miracle. In fact, the mottled femme was smiling, her canines yellow and rimmed with the sickly traces of blood. Some was hers. But the rest… the blood coating her cheeks and dripping from the very point of her chin… that was the lifeblood of Saul. Her mate. Her king. Her God.
Despite the blood dripping from the fleshy score across her neck, Far managed to scoff. Her maw hung down as the sound burst from her throat, and flecks of blood sprayed in a fine mist. Saul had fancied himself indestructible… a true God, ruler over everyone. Including her. For a moment, the ground in front of the mottled femme swam, and she paused to squeeze her crimson orbs shut as the feeling passed over her like a tidal wave. When Far opened them again, the stone under her paws had grown steady once more and she was able to push herself onward. She had done what was necessary to show him that there was no God. That he, just like herself, had pure blood running through their veins and nothing more. “We were elite,” she spat bitterly at nobody, “but we were still equals.”
She was the ember that ignited the dark, obsidian coal that made up his insides; she incinerated him, in ways unimaginable; in ways that he once thought unfathomable to be experienced by the god of the wolves. But, she was still a mere mortal, bound by the fragility of their feeble form, and while she was his queen, she was not his goddess. That title belonged to him, and him alone; he once thought that he could maybe share that title, but after his awakening, he understood that he was in a higher plane of existence than ever before. He could not be bound, he could not be tied, and even if a part of him craved her like a lost soul in a desert, longing for water, he was not going to let anyone get in the way of his ascension—not even her. The brute had awakened that fateful day, with flames burning in his soul as he walked over to her. They had already intertwined in the most mundane of ways, but the delirious king could not deny the pleasure it had brought him. The ecstasy, the pleasure, the exhilarating feeling to be inside of her was enough to make him roll his eyes to the back of his skull in glorious pleasure. But today, today was going to be different; it would determine if she was truly worthy of everything within him, of every inch of his soul. Except… his divinity.
That was only his, and his alone.
He walked over to her, eyes locked on the target as they burned incandescently like cold fire. She was there, her powerful stance sending electricity down his entire system. The waves still echoed like the day of their union, as if they still remembered what happened that fateful day. Her stomach was now filled up with his seed, the spawn of a god, in a powerful vessel. He grabbed her by the scruff of her neck, snarling in low octaves as he whispered in her ear. "Queen Far," he hissed as he mounted her while licking his lips, "your womb belongs to me. It is now a vessel that will carry my glory." He smiled crookedly, his sharp teeth glistening against the sun. She was his, and he knew that if he wanted to take her, he could at any moment. Her entire body belonged to him; he knew that that day, when they consummated their union, it had been mutual. But the dark King knew that he didn’t have to ask for permission. In fact, he desired her at that very moment. He stared at her silently, tightening the grip on her scruff, to the point where he drew blood.
He frowned, remembering that day when he ascended, when the remains of his wolf self were left behind, and now his divinity was the only thing standing. He was Saul, the God of all Mortals. “I have ascended, Far. Now, you’re only a means to an end. Through you, I will build my kingdom. After all, you’re only a mere mortal, tainted with mortality. But, I still have need of you.” He tightened his grip around her, and proceeded to take her… but not by mutual desire, but by his alone. He took her there, pounding her against her will. He smirked in delight as he finished his deed, eyes closing in delirious ecstasy. A part of him felt sorry that he had to still adhere to mundane, pitiful ways to reproduce, but he knew that it was necessary, and he knew that it made him feel powerful nonetheless. But, he would leave it all behind; he would leave it all behind for that power that coursed through his veins like molten gold, like an elixir only an immortal being could withstand. He finished, his body feeling relief at the sensation of his release. He lingered there for a few moments, whispering in her ear. ”You better be a worthy vessel of my seed, Far.” He spoke to her, looking at her with pity. It would be a shame to see her birth useless pups; it would only make him question her power in the first place. It would even make him question her place in Sethos.
He unmounted her, turning around to face her. "Those pups, they better be worthy enough to carry my blood. They carry the power of a God, and this will be your test. This will prove your worth to me once and for all, Queen." Looking at her with arrogance, he huffed slightly at his mate before speaking one last time. "After all, the only divine blood they will carry is my own. My power… will be their fuel."
Far looked at him with wide, scarlet eyes. "What--what are you talking about?" Anger spat from her voice like venom.
He huffed. "What? Did you think I would share my divinity with you? Hah. It is mine and mine alone. I ascended, I am now the God of Wolves; did you truly think I would share my power with a mere mortal?"
He came to her, the scent of his arousal billowing from his frame like heatwaves. Her chemistry matched his, like dry bracken that’s strayed too close to a burning flame. She felt herself catch fire at the mere sight and smell of him—all consuming, engulfing her and turning her mind erratic with desire. On the outside, however, she had remained passive. Her mouth curled up in a smile. She held her tail aloft, wagged it once, and stepped forward. He had already mounted her once before. She could still vividly call up the memory—his weight, and sharp pain of his girth inside her, followed by deep, rolling waves of pleasure. It was unlike anything else she had experienced before, and it had left her fertile with the strongest spawn Anikira had yet to see. The spawn of a king were already growing within her.
Now, as he came to her, grasped her scruff in his jaws and pulled her close, Far felt a twinge between her legs. The weight of him looming over her, pressing down on her hips and spine, was so inherently sexual it made her nearly groan in the wet of her throat. "Who would have thought that I would meet a female that would be powerful enough to carry my legacy?" Saul whispered to her, words that went straight to the heat of her. She let herself growl then, a small loss of control in her otherwise composed nature. He was unravelling her.
But his next words came like an unpleasant constricting of her throat, stopping her desire in its tracks. He had called her tainted, a word that left a sour taste in the mottled femme’s mouth. “Mere mortal my ass." She twisted her neck even as she felt his incisors draw blood. He had her in an unmovable grip. He was constricting around her. She had a moment to realize she wanted to be rid of his bulk before he was inside her, taking her with all the force of a hurricane. He pounded against her soft walls, pulled her apart—and she was too god damn small to wiggle away. The large brute took her without remorse, and though she fought his every thrust, her mind was too blinded by pain to do anything but take it.
Then, his weight was gone, and he was looking at her, his seafoam eyes bright with… pity. Far bristled, her anger fueled by the imbalance of chemicals in her blood and the pain in the depths of her femininity. Beneath her, her limbs were shaking. For the first time in her life, Far felt weak. The large brute before her—who had once seen her as a worthy equal to his splendor—was nothing but a coward and a brutal fool. His grandeur delusions of his own godliness was so pathetically idiotic, Far wanted to simply turn tail and leave him to his own ridiculous thoughts.
But she couldn’t do that. Not after the assault she had just endured. No, Saul needed to pay. She had held her tongue, and practically spat the words out from between her teeth. "What—what are you talking about?" she growled.
"Did you think I would share my divinity with you?” Saul laughed, his jaws all flashing incisors and canines. “It is mine and mine alone. I ascended, I am now the God of Wolves; did you truly think I would share my power with a mere mortal?"
Far didn’t wait for the last word to pass between his lips. She lashed out, lunging upwards at his soft throat. No brute would speak to her like a bitch. Not even Saul. Not even the so-called king of Sethos.
Her teeth clamped down on his flesh, and she bit with all the force she had left in her body. Muscle and thick tendon twisted in her jaws, and she relished at the taste of iron on her tongue. She shivered with pleasure as his blood dripped out of the corners of her mouth and she groaned—she couldn’t help it. She kept her jaws there even after his claws had torn a flap of flash open across her jugular, after he stopped writhing, even after the blood had pooled at her feet, draining from his open throat like a stream. Her tongue moved, lapping up the lifeblood that leaked from the injury.
Let him think he’s immortal now, she thought. Let his delusions consume him long after he’s gone, turning even his god damn ghost sour with stupidity. Let him never forget who he was dealing with.
It was like a blur.
An ebony blur, flashing with crimson like the fire that engulfed them, lunged at him.
She had bit at his throat, blood gushing out like a relentless river as he opened his eyes in disbelief. He was starting to feel strange, his entire body was at the edge about to collapse; but he couldn’t be taken down like this. No. He was a God. He would not be killed by a mortal. He would not be humiliated like this. She wanted to see him fall? She would fall with him. He snarled, using the last bit of his strength to launch himself at her, rolling his eyes upwards in ecstasy as he bit repeatedly, his entire face covered with the blood of his Queen. The taste of blood was like an elixir that had caused him to keep biting, until his body began to succumb to the blood loss. He stopped biting as he gasped for air, walking away from her as the life was being drained from his body with every drop that fell to the ground. He knew, however. He knew that even if his body was about to perish, he would be reborn elsewhere; his body was a mere, useless place where the real him resided. His divinity was within, not around him or on him. He snarled at her with a crooked smirk, icy seafoam jewels staring at her with malice. “Foolish bitch,” he snarled in anger, “you can’t kill a God.” His voice was dry, almost broken, due to the strain he was experiencing to be even able to speak in the first place. He began gasping for air, before collapsing. Coughing and gagging, he felt the life slowly wither away as his body tensed…
Until there was nothing but darkness.
Far finally came over the rise of red stone and looked out over Belashi Butte. Dust had settled on the blood crusting around her ears and neck, turning the dark crimson an odd shade of orange. She knew the life was draining from her, slower than it had left Saul’s body, but still happening none-the-less. Her strong body had been replaced with this pathetic vessel, and as her eyes blinked slowly and her maw gaped open in the light of the afternoon sun, she knew it was over.
I will die on this god forsaken continent the way I arrived, she thought, unable to stop the grin from splitting crookedly across her face. Eager for the blood of a brute on my tongue.
Her legs folded beneath her, then, and she closed her crimson eyes one final time.
notes: One-shot post for Far and Saul's deaths. This thread is done.
Saul's POV was written by Nameria and posted with permission.
notes: One-shot post for Far and Saul's deaths. This thread is done.
Saul's POV was written by Nameria and posted with permission.