#annagal

[noxsden]

A shift in Perspective

Cut for mentions of violence and death and kinda spoilers.

A soft and innocent smile spread across the thin lips of the forsaken, a fresh coat of a sapphire lipstick still held a bit of moisture as she leaned in close and pressed a kiss to the forehead of the man in front of her.  Unblinking sockets lingered on the startled features that focused and looked curiously back at her.  A wave of her fingers but she remained clung tight to him, watching a blush form on his cheeks.  His mouth opened to speak before he was silenced by her hand covering it, a coy shake of her head caused dull shale colored hair to toss back and forth idly.

Eyes flickering from confused to angry and soon he was thrashing about to try and wrench free of her grasp but to no avail.  Met with nothing but laughter the female pulled back slowly from him.

“Now, I’m going to make this as easy as you have ever had it.”

A bony finger trailed down his neck, digging in just enough to leave a trail until she made it between his pecs and jabbing at his sternum.

“You should consider yourself honored really.  Not many girls can look this good every morning.”

Her arms stretched out above her head and she gave a little shimmy, her legs still firmly planted around his waist allowing her body to slide and press against all the right places.  Still he fought against her, pulling away and shaking his head slowly.

“You flatter yourself if you think you have any say in this.  Everything you see will be as it will be for a long time, plus they are even exotic and can be upgraded easily.”  Her hand moved back to walk her fingers up his shoulder until a violent shrug took him momentarily out of reach.  A loud sigh was given, with breath only taken in to show her disgust.  “Fine we do this the boring way.”  Those fingers moved to curl under the adhesive that held the cloth to his mouth and tore away at it a nice chunk of flesh releasing to a shrill cry.

Letting it fall to the ground she returned her attention to the whimpering man.  “Tell me all about it and we can skip through the pain part.  Which is my favorite part so you know it’s not going to be given away any easier.”

A few moments in silence pass before the man rears back and spits in her direction.  “The others will find me and they will rescue me.  Then we will strike you down like the abomination that you are.”  Another rear back, this time his movement was stopped by those bony fingers clasping about his throat.  Holding him still as the tips pierced into the skin enough to start a trickle of crimson to flow.  

She said nothing, and then unceremoniously released her grasp of him.  Tumbling to her feet as she fell and landed beneath the now swinging figure.  Silence continued as she walked around the bubbling cauldron that he swayed over.  As she let go he laughed.  “Did I hurt the monster’s feelings?  You pathetic…”  His eyes widened as he realized just how dire his situation was, struggling at the chains while vision returned to reveal that he hung from the ceiling in a room of many cauldrons.

“You have a curious way of looking at things.  I wonder just how many monsters you know but do nothing to stop.  Yet you sit there and preach to me.”  She walked over to a lever and pushed it slightly to allow the chain to drop further into the steam that escaped the pot.  “Your convictions rival the crusaders.  You should be proud.”

She clicked her tongue and circled around him, standing at his back and reaching up to run a claw along his neck.  “War changes nothing.  You have been so fixed on ending us from the start.  Tell me, if you looked death in the face wouldn’t you choose another shot.  Dripping black nothingness while your body fades away, surely you must be excited for that end.  If you believe undeath to be such a monstrosity.”

“You struck first.”  He said through gritted teeth his neck craning to get out of the way and further from the bubbling mess below.  “Innocents.”

“I have done nothing but keep to myself.  Wondering if I should step out, like this world is not for me any longer.  If that were true, I wouldn’t have come back.  Everyone is innocent, everyone is guilty.  So little we can fathom.”  She patted his back and walked over towards the lever.  “I had hoped the last of you would be a little more exciting.  I’d wish you luck, but if you come back where will your convictions be.  I’d hate to make you a hypocrite.”  

A devilish grin grew back on her features as the lever was pulled.  The chain went slack, hanging there for what seemed like an eternity, waiting for the air to be pushed out of the way.  In reality there was not even time for him to scream as he plunged head first into the boiling liquid.  Anna took in a superfluous breath to let it out in a huff, checking to make sure the cauldron was sealed tight and leaving the troops to stew with their ideologies.  

[starflameaesthetics]

Another one I did for @noxsden for Annagal.  I hope you enjoy <3

[noxsden]

What kind of Donut would your muse be?

She would probably enjoy some sweets but there would need to be meat.  So here is a sweet exterior hiding true desires for Annagal.

Tagged by @loveherdekay

Tagging any that wish to give it a shot

[noxsden]

Uninvited

Bit of a longer character piece, mentions to body horror and gore.  Looking forward to BFA... not.

The general state of decay of the estate grounds had a sort of charm to it along with the forest it was set in.  The vanity mirror however stood apart from the rest, seemingly brand new and lacking the mold or age that was indicative of the location.  It was made more ironic by the figure that it reflected.  Sitting properly on a stool in front of it, the forsaken female tossed her short hair back and forth, a subtle smile tugging at her lips.  Eyeless pits under expressive eyebrows shown with a warmth that the pale skin lacked.  A hint of a giggle escaped from the creature, garbed in what used to be a rather elegant formal dinner gown, it had clearly seen better days, but much like here there were still plenty of uses to be found in it.

Drawing from a slender box Anna affixed a metal cover along her jaw.  Much more resembling skin tone, especially as she worked to blend it into the rest of her face.  Working it out until she was satisfied it wasn’t going anywhere that smile grew larger.  Her hand moved next to run along the stitches along her chest, the magic imbued in each shimmered as she touched it.  A grin curled up as she turned from side to side, enjoying the job that had been done with the two darker skin tones that made up her breasts obscured by the dress, though even in tatters it was still flattering.  Her hand then moved to run down her sides, tracing each of the faded out exposed bones.  The pale moonlight showing each coloration, she picked up a small brush and coated it in a cleaning substance.  The hard bristles scraped and cleaned the bones back to their normal pale self.

Her hands moving along to trace her waist, feeling the seams that held her together underneath the dress.  A wistful sigh released breaking the silence that clung to the air around her, pushing up from her seat her head tilted curiously.  It wasn’t silent, there was something off about the air, something warm.  Her thoughts answered as echoing sounds grew closer and men dressed in armor appeared in the doorway.  A knowing look offered between the two and a chuckle that was responded by the woman setting the brush down on the vanity behind her.

“Blue.”  Was the first word out of her mouth, a representation of the shock that crossed her mind.  Another laugh between the humans.

“Expecting someone else monster?  The Scarlet crusade is finished, we are here now.”

“Stealing, how noble.”

“You don’t have a right to claim it.”  A quick retort punctuated by the sound of blades being drawn.  The sounds grew louder in the distance, surely the rest of this crew was tearing at her home.

Taking a defensive stance she slowly dropped back towards the wall behind her, hand placed against the wall, magic coursing through her hand into a rune inscribed on the stone.  The movement brought about a charge from one of the men.  Dodging his slashes, inhuman flexibility came in handing as she slithered in and out between furniture.  Growling the armored man continued his assault on the woman, magic began to fill the room with it she brought an arm up to take the hit, a shimmering dark armor coated her limb.  Tendrils licking out from the appendage and striking back at him.  A sadistic grin curling on her face and one could swear there was a twinkle in those pits where eyes should be.  The frail woman pushed forward, shadows slipping between plates in the armor to slash at his skin.  Her other hand lifted up, summoning a shiny silver blade, her offensive increased. Growling and grinning she pushed the man back until he hit the wall.  His eyes wide, realizing his fate without having a way to fix it.  The shadows flexed outward, severing links to all the armor to start to fall apart with her lunge in to sink into his exposed chest through a gap.

“Beneath the shell is always the most tender and the sweetest meat.”

“Monster!”  The other knight shouted as his sword pierced her side, the fabric of her dress torn to reveal the dark skin and stitches.  Sounds of chaos echoing from down the hall as the other knights fought off her defenses.  “You don’t deserve to be alive, to walk about like normal.  You don’t have the right.”  He twisted the blade and tried to pull it free from her torso finding it quite stuck the way it was.

“Quite haughty of you.  Who gave me the right to die?  Why was it my time.”  Her voice sounding a bit pained the blade seeming to do some damage to her form, it shifted and faltered in its structure.  “I’m here, and this is my home.”  Her torso shifted violently, wrenching the hilt from his hands before her top half began turning to face him.  Her hands reaching out to his shoulders while the shadowy tendrils shot out to bind him close to her, stripping the metal to reveal his chest.  “You led them to death, should they deserve it?  How many second chances have you given?”  Now completely facing him she laughed.

He struggled at the dark magic that bound him so close to her, spitting at his opponent panic starting to show in his eyes.  Her hands moved down to her waist and began tearing her robes further.  “Don’t worry, I release you from your rights.  It must be your time, you won’t be coming back.”  Her hands tucked under her skin, the stitches flexing as she rolled it up.  Ribs protruding from the space revealed.  A carnage of gore dripped from the space, pulsing organs hidden behind the jaws.

“Funny isn’t it, just paint it red and it looks living.  I can assure you though, it’s all real.”  Pulling him in closer, the man now wracked with fear that his stammering cries echoed out along the nce more quiet halls.  A sharp thrust down brought him into that cage of bones, shadows escaping from the tips and piercing into his head.  A chilling laugh as the woman watched his death rattles, her hands releasing him.  The heavy knight falling forward into the spears of ivory that lined her torso.  Her hands moving to start working the dead man’s weapon from her being, letting it clatter to the floor.

“Looks like my stores are full.”  She clapped her hands together, bringing her blade up to pale lips to lick the crimson clean from it.  A twitch from the body as the shadows pried it free from its impaling prison and letting it crash to the ground.  Her skin smoothed back out and down, her upper half shifting back to the correct direction.  A few pops heard from the joints as they were brought back to place, a longing glance to her blood splattered vanity before she went to leave the room.  Hands brushing down her tattered robes and furled skin as if it was nothing more than a wrinkle.  Her gait poised, even as she stepped over the bodies of the other intruders.

[noxsden]

Dawning

Darkness.  Waking up from what seemed like such a fantastical dream, to the bleak nothing that was around.  Pain.  A crushing feeling.  Silence.  Nothing is working, my body isn't responding.  My body.  Noise, thunderous, deafening, there is no comprehension for the feelings that are clawing at my head.  Gears grinding with a purpose that was long muted.  There had been such splendor, and now nothing.  Movement is the first thing that sets in, reaching out and finding only obstruction.  I must move.

Pulling away at the obstruction, a single minded goal to make sense of the confusion that was this moment.  These were moments.  Time.  Things were happening.  Again and again my limbs moved.  It was the only thing that was making sense.  Right.  I could feel movement.  A feeling beneath fingertips, my body lifting up.  Finally, I can feel freedom.  Even if just wiggling fingertips.

My struggle renewed with the rewards now close at hand.  Pushing and pulling at whatever I can manage.  Frantic.  And then, blinding.  Again my thoughts are nothing but noise.  Nothing make sense.  Just keep moving.  My body feels less hindered.  Pulling myself to freedom.  Weight is lifted, things move so quickly now.  Before long I am huddled up on my side.  Noises about me that still don't make sense.  Touch.  I push away, not understanding it.  Words, they are the noises.  Strange at first, and then they make sense.

Sight.  It's suddenly not all dark or light.  There are forms among the light.  Distance.  They don't approach.  Just stare and converse.  It takes awhile for me to even understand the strange sounds.  'Was that one supposed to be woken.  It doesn't seem right.  The magic wasn't sent to her.'  Nothing makes sense.  The mass of color coalesces into beings.  Undead.  I'm in a graveyard.  My head looks around.  Graves have been dug up to allow the bodies to be exhumed.  Mine wasn't.  I had pulled myself up.  My awakening had not been expected.  They continue to stare and mutter.

It takes far too long for me to realize that my legs are not as cooperative as my arms are.  Looking down to see the reason is quite clear.  Not much of my torso remains.  I pushed away from their stares.  Dragging my legs most of the way.  They eventually move to my commands.  Perhaps the distance, my mind hadn't made it's presence known yet. 'What do we do with it?  Sylvanas wants all that we can manage.'  I will not give them that satisfaction.  Perhaps it is my anger that allows me to move faster.  Finding my footing, I begin to walk away from the others.  They don't follow.

I keep wanting to stop and breath.  To understand what I'm missing.  What should be and what shouldn't be.  There will be time later.  Things are not as they were.  I close my eyes, the last fleeting glimpse of the splendorous dream.  Feeling, like what I remember pain to be, but it's different.  It is simply there, I think it stemmed from what was missing.  Not the parts of me that were gone, but inside.  Something was strange, or was it normal.  It was, missing, and I craved it.

I remember looking down again.  There is a sudden realization.  Noise.  It shouldn't look like this.  But what should undeath look like.  Everyone was different in life.  The splendor was gone.  A flash of what used to be, of all what had been.  And then reality, as pale and torn away as it could be.  Silent.  Focus.  There is no going back, the splendor, in that brief moment I remember how disgusted I had been to see it.  The magic had found my drive, found my core to be worthy.  Sundered remains can be fixed, I just need the appropriate materials.  Smile.  Focus.

[noxsden]

Annagal’s D&D Class

Monk

You are a monk! Your power comes in equal parts from training your body and your search for spiritual enlightenment. All monks practice martial arts in some capacity, honing their bodies to be deadly tools even without using any weapons or armor, but some - often called ninjas - focus on stealth and striking from the shadows, while others prefer direct combat or even possess the ability to channel their spiritual energy - called ki - to produce magical effects, such as fire breaths or blasts of force. As they step towards enlightenment, many monks transcend ailments of the flesh entirely, including disease, poison, hunger, thirst and even old age. A monk a mobile and versatile combatant, whose resistance to ailments of the mind, flesh and soul alike makes them a difficult opponent to counter.

(I find this funny that I always liked the idea of a forsaken monk.  It kinda fits her)

Tagged by @varissena

Tagging any that want to give it a shot, will probably snag this for some others here.

Test here

[noxsden]

Wandering

As the bustle of the magical city continued to ride high, it was hard to stay below notice.  Anna normally one to draw attention and bask in it had an even harder time.  Her attire showed in that desire to hide, a dark cowl and plain clothes hid her features from any more than an arms reach.  She had a purpose, clutching a small box that was wrapped in fabric, the bottom slightly damp.  The figure made her way to a newly opened building.  Skeletal hand reaching out to knock loudly on the door, setting the box down and darting back around a corner.

@loveherdekay

[noxsden]

Reminding me of an aspect of Anna in her creation and a hunting technique.

The panel is taken from Junji Ito’s Ribs Woman (Published 2015).  Highly recommend his work to horror fans