Links The Players The Plays Blogs
02.01.2013 09:240 people like thisLike

Ring around the rosy…

…pocket full of poesies…

…ashes, ashes…

We all fall…


Cain jerks upright from his bed at the sung whisper, unable to tell if it had been in his head or somewhere close by. Part of him fears it may have been both as he looks around the chamber. The first in a very long time the Singer of Songs feels a telling chill run down his spine at what the ghostly rhyme entails. Though he has not fed since the night before, his heart pounds in his chest like a brass gong making his mouth run dry like a great desert.



He takes a moment to get himself under control, his attention shifts away from what he can see towards his other senses.  The stink of his lovers rides at the surface within the room as the most recent scent.  At his side, Isolde turns in her sleep with the kiss of sweat still upon her body mingling with the malodorous remnants of his copious seed.  Her breathing is deep and long in the manner of someone well into a decent slumber. Unaware of the cold sensation filling the pit of her Master’ stomach she reaches across to him in her sleep, delicate fingers gently stroking his bare thigh in her normal way with a contented moan.



Beyond her comes the soft wafting taste of copper from the numerous deep scratches along Samson’s chest and back endured beneath Cain and above Isolde. His wounds long since healed are no more than barely visible pink lines along his tanned flesh.  Sensing the unusual duress within his master, the lycanthrope lifts his head from Isolde’ lush breasts at the understanding of that which makes Cain worry should be a worry to everyone.



“What comes our way?” Samson asks in a concern laced voice.



Not ready just yet to offer his endowed companion a response, Cain turns his senses from their chambers, to the hall beyond their door only to find nothing. No trace of anything making its way away from their door. That alone brings deeper lines upon his pale brow. “Not what comes, but what has all ready came.” He responds cryptically as he slips from the bed.



The cold radiating from the stone floor is a welcome sensation as he strides calmly towards the door. The jagged lines of his bare skin move with close to a dancer’ grace as he steps into the hall, first looking one way and then the other. Frowning deeper, he clicks his tongue thoughtfully before turning to look at Samson from the doorway.



“Open one of the heavy curtains, but just enough for you to look outside.” He orders Samson without much regard to the fact that he is still bared to the world.



With care the wolf extracts himself from their human lover to make his way to the closest curtain. Thick fingers ease the fabric aside enough to look out where he freezes in place and turns wide eyes upon Cain. “Master Romulus…tis’ mid-day!”



“My dear Samson, the game is afoot…” he says while shutting the door and moving around the room as but a white blur of motion gathering his clothing. “Pour our voluptuous Isolde a hot bath, and then wake her. You’ve both endured my appetites for some time now, you have leave to return to your kith and kin.  But remember, you belong to me. Mind. Body. And soul. Mostly body.”



Without another word Cain leaves them both making his way for the library, hoping the curtains were not open otherwise his day would be vastly difficult indeed. The sun riding high in the sky, it should have been impossible that he be able to wake this early. Something was vastly wrong within the Valley…or ill winds blew once more.

02.09.2013 05:310 people like thisLike

~ It began that dreadful night about a month ago, her mind raced with thoughts of the events that had unfolded before her. The bond that linked Krystal and Evalaine even closer to their sires, half the battle lay over with. What would come next she had a feeling neither knew yet.


Her mind calming a bit as she heard a distant voice as in a sort of a ,,,nursery rhyme? Yes it was often her mother sang the same one to her as she remembered. This one seemed,,,haunting though and unfamiliar in presence.


Her thoughts pressing outward to see whom might be around, her body stuck till it was at least dusk at best. She felt some stirring and a few were around the Manor. She sent out a lazy mental message. To whom might listen “ A presence, the words are haunting. “Her voice faded away sleepily as she began to fade into a deep slumber.


Dreaming of the rhyme and the way it all felt. Images of shadows darting ever closer to the Manor and the Valley. A sudden ominous wall blocking her in the dream giving her a feeling of dread. It was like she was trapped with out a way out. Pressing her pale hands against the walls as they were closing dangerously close, her fangs coming out as she was prepared to defend against danger.~(e)