|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Wed Mar 19, 2008 9:37 am
wahmbulance WARNING wahmbulance
There will be descriptions of graphic violence, course language, and the possibility of murder in this rp. If any of this offends you, please don't read this rp!!!  Few things travel quiet as well in water as blood does. The water becomes pink shading to crimson the closer to the source that a person gets. Many might consider it a sickening sight, all that red tainting the brilliant blue, but some find no sight more beautiful. Then there is the smell, bitter yet sweet with a touch of copper than lingers at the back of the throat. One mustn't forget the warm that caresses the skin, warmer than the water yet cooler than one's own flesh.
Crimson eyes slide closed with a sigh of pure pleasure as she felt the struggles under her blades end. Good, the beta had accepted his fate. When the fool had crossed her, Marinette knew he would be the perfect victim to test her new blades upon, he had even asked for it, begging her to teach him her art. Fool! No mere male would ever be able to grasp the delicate nature of the blades, nor the thrill of taking life where a female had once given it.
"P..p..please..le.e..let me go.." The unknown male sobbed helplessly. Marinette's lip curled in a disgusted snarl, pitiful worm. Unworthy of being one of her greater pieces, still.... She let the snarl fall from her lips as she gazed at the beautiful patterns that she had sliced into his flesh. He would wear her marks for the rest of his days. No matter how short or long they may be.
While her gaze turned inward and the silence streched on, her victim grew more and more panicked struggling against his bonds till he felt the cool touch of the blades once more lightly pressing to his flesh. "P.p.please lady...I a.a.ain't gonna tell...I swear!" Marinette's smile then as she spoke for the first time "I know...the dead can't talk..."
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Mar 19, 2008 11:04 am
 Hmm... boring. There were few enough factions even here among the main tank to stir into a war. Oh, easy enough to instigate a few minor skirmishes but nothing like a great full out war. Stitched lips scowled in the cool darkness of the water as the male swam almost leisurely along. Bored. So very bored.
Great scimitars -the chosen weapon of his loa and therefore his own- cut through the waters behind his passing. Great blades almost lovingly cared for, and kept constantly clean by the waters' own movements. A clean that belied what uses the swords had been put too.
Then he tasted it. The added hint of iron wafting upon the current. The faint promise of crimson that was the lifeforce to so many creatures that swam. Some injured thing? Trapped and dead or dying? Aunt Astarte could tell him if it was dead yet. Not that Oguntocado really cared. It was more of a curiosity thing. If it was dead it was dead. If it was alive... well injured creatures were always more fun when alive.
Deciding he had nothing better to do Oguntocado sucked the trail of blood between the slight gap in his sewn lips. It was little difficulty at all to follow back to its source. Slowly he smirked seeing the scene before him. It was almost too bad the curls of blood swirling into the surrounding waters could not be captured for the posterity of their own beauty.
'The dead can't talk'? Not according to his aunt. But then she had a special affinity to the dead & spirits. Not that he particularly cared. The dead were seldom entertaining.
Not like this live bait the female with the blades had,
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Mar 19, 2008 11:11 am
It was a ghastly parody of a mother's tender loving smile that Marinette wore on her face as she began to cut again. Each slice was a work of art, carefully placed so none overlapped the other and that each cut was the same size and depth. None where deep enough to kill, just enough to bleed freely.
When she grew tired of his screams, she frowned looking about for a long piece of kelp that she could knot into a gag. But it was not the aquatic plant her crimson eyes landed on but another beta watching. She narrowed her eyes warily. Would he run away screaming to bring others, making her flee her unfinished work; or would he steal her piece, claiming it for his own?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Mar 19, 2008 11:26 am
And if he did nothing? What then? Oguntocado had no intentions of stopping the dark hued female, whether by alerting fools or taking her art for himself. There was little pride to be had in a stolen prisoner. One damaged by wild beast or the other dangers of the deep was one thing -another's victim was something else. Besides... if he stopped her he may never see the finished piece.
It was not like he had anything better to do today. It was not his turn for studies.
So he met her red gaze with the whiteless stare of his own red eyes from within the white mask of his face, a black star of his mother's markings spacing the red orbs. Stitched lips were pressed into a smirk even as he ran the edge of his blade across their unbreakable stitches like a kiss or caress. 'Go on' those blood-red eyes seemed to say, glimmering across the waters.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Mar 19, 2008 11:34 am
Arching a brow, a faint smirk crossed her lips. So he was a fellow predator. She had yet to meet one like herself. Perhaps this could be interesting...she grabbed a long piece of kelp making a knot in the middle before shoving it in her victims mouth to gag him. Ah silence...such a wonderful wonderful thing.
Inclining her head to her watcher, Marinette returned to her art. She really had no interest in killing the fool. Dead he would only be remembered for a short time and then forgotten, but living...ah then all the looked on him would see her art. Never would he be able to look at himself and not feel the pain anew, that..that was the true work of art.
He passed out long before the work was done, but that was fine with her. At least then he was still. She seemed to have forgotten her watcher as she placed the last slices into the well abused flesh. There...perfect....not an inch of his flesh was unmarked, yet not a single cut overlapped. She sighed in pure contentment as she moved back. Remembering her manners she turn and gestured for the odd watcher to come and view her finished work.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Mar 19, 2008 1:06 pm
He almost missed the victim's cries as first the gag muffled them then the beta's unconsciousness took them. Except that then he could hear the slice of blades through the water -and through flesh itself. A sweet sound, like its own beautiful melody. Not quite the screams of a beautifully crafted war, but lovely in its own way.
It was ... interesting to watch someone not kin so. A point of his star crinkled as Oguntocado arched a brow at the invitation for a closer look but otherwise his white face showed little if any reaction. Almost casually he shouldered a scimitar. Nearing, the male made a face of pleasure as he drank in the crimson stained waters through his stitches. Such a wonderful taste. Such a wonderful feel. Lifting a brow questioningly to the female he reached out a fin to touch the unconscious and scared flesh, measuring what his eyes told him to be true. Such precision. Slowly Oguntocado started to smile darkly. He was no artist... not like this. In his own 'work' he had not the patience for something like this. But he could appreciate and admire. Red eyes glimmering the male nodded his approval.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Mar 19, 2008 1:14 pm
It was the first time she had ever shared her work with someone, much less had someone approve of her art. She felt a strange stirring in her breast. Perhaps this was that happiness thing she had been told about. It was milder than the joy she felt when gazing at a finished work, yet sharper somehow.
With quick , sure movement she sliced through her captives bindings and checked to make sure he wasn't dead. It would ruien all her careful work if he died before the true depth of her work reveled itself.
Satisfied that he would live, she moved away again carefully cleaning her blades before she placed them carefully back in the scarred skin of her own fins shivering as the blood caressed her skin. Her crimson gaze turned back to her strange watcher wondering what the next move would be.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Mar 20, 2008 6:10 pm
There were tribes that made scar tattoos on themselves intentionally. Oguntocado knew of them. This was like that, in a sense. In a sense only. What this female had created was more beautiful than anything a normal beta would do to himself. As usual he said nothing as she untied her 'work' and checked him, oblivious to anything his actions or presence might be making the female feel. Why should he? Of his siblings only his eldest brother had 'found someone' though his one sister kept an eye out and another was a mother. Twice. Which although Oguntocado neither liked nor approved he would say nothing against. That was family business. He would not be so free with his seed.
What interested him at this moment was this female's sheaths of flesh. Red eyes glimmered, his stitches stretching with his smile as he watched the beautiful ribbons of crimson of the female's blood mingle with the waters around them. It almost made him want to speak to her. Almost.
Swimming closer Oguntocado lifted a fin to trace the trail of her scars just over the actual scars in the water without actually touching her, slightly disturbing the ribbons of red they created. Though not afraid of pain Oguntocado was no masochist. He injured his own body only when he needed to for the sake of his craft. Glittering red eyes looked into the blood red of the female's for an answer. Not to condemn but just to know. Did she hurt hurself only for her craft or did she find joy in self injury beyond the feel of the warm caress of blood upon her dark scales?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Mar 20, 2008 6:45 pm
Marinette's crimson eyes gazed into his white ones silent for a long moment as she studied him. For some reason she felt compelled to talk to this strange male. Never before had she met anyone who had seen her at her work, much less seem to understand.
Lifting her fin she let him see the small rows of scars along the underside of her fins, each held a glint of silver, a promise of a blade hidden in the flesh there. Many where old, the flesh well healed and smooth with many years of removing and re-sheathing the blades. Only the fresh ones bled still.
For some reason she felt he would understand, her eyes darting to his own blades then back to his eyes. An artist was never without her tools, for she never knew when she might find one fit to create her art upon. Like the passed out fool, who had begged for her craft.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Mar 20, 2008 7:15 pm
The male's stitches stretched with his smirk, nodding again as if in approval. Arching a brow as if for permission this time he did touch the scars ever so lightly with the tip of his fin. It was very nearly like a lover's caress and yet, not somehow. How very convenient to have her blades near. Yes... he could appreciate the benefit of that. It amused him to see her red eyes upon his own blades. His scimitars, the bringers of war & destruction that they were. His smirk widened but only just -reaching the end of the stitches' pliancy. A deep throaty laughter bubbling darkly from the male's body and through the crease of his lips in the white mask of his face. He could not be hoping to put his own blades into a sheath of his own flesh, those glimmering red eyes seemed to say. Amused. An almost... joy to have had his boredom diverted so... pleasantly.
Oguntocado swam backwards a pace, white-less eyes but for the light that reflected upon them studying the female silently. One sword swayed easily in the water beneath and behind him. The other tapped on the equivalent of his shoulder. Crimson ribbons still snaked through the water as he nodded, reaching his decision. The tip of a curved blade sliced a sliver of blood that had not dissipated yet. Softly he mouthed words in small motions with lips sewn magically shut. Blood curled against the natural order to coagulate around the point of his his blade. Then he wrote, the ribbons of blood through his spell taking on the form of the letters he wished of them. He would give the artist his name. A high honor in his opinion to which his siblings would likely agree. Surely this female was more deserving to know it than that supplicating glowing beauty that had 'governed' he & his siblings during their growing months. Besides... if she knew his name perhaps he would get another chance when bored to see her work again. He should be able to find her again. His magic had touched and tasted her blood.
His blade cut effortlessly through the water leaving the script of his name in ribbons of blood in its wake. 'Oguntocado'
Unblinkingly, he watched her, flame patterns shifting like real flames from his movement. Waiting. Unmoved.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Mar 20, 2008 7:23 pm
She went very still at the faint touch. It was the first time she had ever let another touch her willingly. Many had hit her in their struggles but never such a soft tough. It was more..sensual to have someone touch the blades in her flesh then had he caressed her entire body. After all the blade were more a part of her than her own flesh it seemed some days.
She cocked her head watching his movement as he worked his spell. So he had arts of his own, such as she had never dreamed might exist. A lust that had nothing to do with the flesh and everything to do with the desire to be..more... filled her crimson eyes as she gazed at him. Oguntocado...she committed the name to her memory.
"Marinette."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Mar 20, 2008 7:41 pm
With the barest flick of his fin he let his spell drop from the blood, the crimson liquid returning to its natural motion through the water & slowly dissipating once more. The water here was almost supersaturated with blood. It was oddly calming.
Marinette. The arm of his face star once more crinkled as his brow rose. He knew of that loa. Slowly he smiled -smirked rather- once more, star marked tails flicking behind him. How very interesting.
Hm... but now what?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Mar 20, 2008 7:50 pm
Glancing at her work, she smiled fondly before nodding to him. She didn't need to be around when he awoke. Her work here was done. She closed her eyes inhaling deeply, letting the blood fill her senses, letting the peace it brought her wash through her.
Opening her crimson eyes again, she met Oguntocado's gaze and smiled faintly. She had a feeling she would see him again, the ocean was big...but there were few like them about. A faint smile touched her lips as she inclined her head to him. Was it meeting as equals or a goodbye? It could be either as she turned and with a flick of her tail disappeared into the dark kelp forest, leaving only a trail of blood on the water, and the passed out victim to mark that she had ever been there.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
