Laughter on the wind. His own? Or simply the darkness reacting to it's master's mood.
The God's eyes flared in circling colors of gold, and copper..to match her hair, and His response to her anger.
This lovelly flower would not wilt under the strangeness of his essence, and so, like relaxing a flexed muscle, The Red God released some of the strangle-hold He kept over his own chaotic aura.
To some the presence of the Red God registered as a dull throb...perhaps a pleasing sensation, perhaps not..as with all things related to Xulchilbara, the line between pleasure and pain was often indeterminate. To others it registered as a headache; a strange buzzing in the mind of many hundreds of voices speaking in tongues....or perhaps not even that easily described. But where her weapon was a gaurdian of steel, His was nothing more than thought, and sensation; concentrated, and honed into something like a whip of near-solid essence.
Metal encountered metal as Haineko was detered from her strike to His throat by the slightly longer than usual fletchette He held against His wrist, and part of His inner arm. Instead she slit the cloth of his simple t-shirt, and then slit the flesh beneath. A superficial wound, but it added to the blood-scent in the air, and made Him breath deeper for it. After all...it wouldn't do to not make her work at least a little bit for His blood, now would it?
Parry, parry, thrust Returning to the offensive, the God in human form grinned, His eyes flaring out with a dark light, and a whip of sensation ( pleasure so intense to be pain, or pain so exquisite to be pleasure? ) to strike at this beautiful flower.
no subject
His own? Or simply the darkness reacting to it's master's mood.
The God's eyes flared in circling colors of gold, and copper..to match her hair, and His response to her anger.
This lovelly flower would not wilt under the strangeness of his essence, and so, like relaxing a flexed muscle, The Red God released some of the strangle-hold He kept over his own chaotic aura.
To some the presence of the Red God registered as a dull throb...perhaps a pleasing sensation, perhaps not..as with all things related to Xulchilbara, the line between pleasure and pain was often indeterminate.
To others it registered as a headache; a strange buzzing in the mind of many hundreds of voices speaking in tongues....or perhaps not even that easily described.
But where her weapon was a gaurdian of steel, His was nothing more than thought, and sensation; concentrated, and honed into something like a whip of near-solid essence.
Metal encountered metal as Haineko was detered from her strike to His throat by the slightly longer than usual fletchette He held against His wrist, and part of His inner arm.
Instead she slit the cloth of his simple t-shirt, and then slit the flesh beneath.
A superficial wound, but it added to the blood-scent in the air, and made Him breath deeper for it.
After all...it wouldn't do to not make her work at least a little bit for His blood, now would it?
Parry, parry, thrust
Returning to the offensive, the God in human form grinned, His eyes flaring out with a dark light, and a whip of sensation ( pleasure so intense to be pain, or pain so exquisite to be pleasure? ) to strike at this beautiful flower.