#fallesto

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

Sabrina was in a state of blissful relaxation, having indulged in a steaming bath that enveloped her in warmth. The water, still pleasantly hot from being refreshed twice by a magical contraption, made her feel as if she could remain in that tub indefinitely. She had sunk deep into the soothing embrace, with only her head, hands, and feet peeking out over the rim. Her long, flowing hair cascaded over the edge, having been thoroughly washed and dried, a testament to her leisurely attitude in the bath.

The tranquility was momentarily disrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching the door, causing her eyes to flutter open as she glanced toward it, hoping for a visitor. A strange scent of steel and blood wafted through the air, transforming her initial irritation into a curious thrill. When the door finally swung open, she was met with the familiar and welcome sight of the witcher, the very one who had been assisting her through her struggles. Caught in the liminal space of her curse, she was neither mare nor human, but rather a Succubus—an embodiment of her own greed and darkness.

She was already beginning to rise, his torso now fully revealed above the water, his hooves sinking back into the depths. Water cascaded down his skin, pooling in the delicate grooves of his scars. A subtle smile danced on her lips, the familiar expression that always appeared when their paths intertwined. Her warm gaze met his golden eyes, and she took in his appearance—the blood, the expression etched on his face. It was his typical look. An eyebrow arched as she prepared to ask why he was there, but the sound of his boots on the ground interrupted her.

That sound silenced her words instantly, a contented hum escaping the creature as she regarded him. The door closed with a flick of her magic, but she barely registered it, her focus entirely on him.

[Fallesto - if you wanna write again, follow me once more on my main account, this one is dead, but understand if not x]

The Witcher climbed off Scorpion, patting the war horse and letting him go off to graze in the nearby woods, then passed through the evening rain, hooded black cloak shifting on the breeze, and approached the entrance to her sizable blue tent with gold trimming. At once, he sensed and smelled her familiar scent and the bath within, the beating of her heart, through his enhanced senses. The side monster contracts and time in the nearby town away from her had been welcome, a change of pace... but all good things had to end. He still had a curse to break, that he had reluctantly agreed to, and thus far they had only worn away at it a bit. He would have to find another excuse to go hunting, when the opportunity presented itself. Too much time around her, after what she had done to him and Deidre... other Black Sun girls, her ambitious doings as a Sorceress... whatever strange connection of destiny they shared that she should remain on his Path, he needed a respite from it all periodically. Even if the cold, hostile reception of the nearby town's ungrateful folk hadn't been much better... at least he knew where he stood with the average peasant. They made their feelings and intents quite clear.

"Here we go again..."

With a silent breath, jaw tightening, steeling himself Eskel reluctantly slipped through the door and within the giant tent... viper eyes at once looking around the magically sizable, familiar, wealthy palace-like interior. Illusions and enchantments, he knew, to remind her of the luxuries she and her upper class kind were so accustomed to... to remind her of her place at Ard Carraigh, in Henselt's court. His gaze settled gradually on Sabrina in the lavish tub, in a new, alluring form he hadn't been expecting. One that gave him pause... the heat in his blood burning hotter, one of the side effects of his mutations betraying him again, forcing him to ignore such instinctive, primal desires. To remember and center himself. In a display of her magic, his enchanted silver wolf head medallion buzzing, she closed the door behind him automatically. Folding his broad arms over his red, silver spiked leather jacket and his Witcher's armor, Eskel studied her closely, not disguising his gaze that moved along the long crimson red haired Succubus' bare form. At last, eyes within the hood narrowing on her own, his deep, calm voice washed over her no less than the water was her body, remaining standing where he was by the entrance.

"Still not quite looking your old self, Glevissig. Didn't think I'd find you like this... but I know you in any form. Horns, hooves and tails suit you. Demonic. Surface starting to match what's inside. Always been well connected around Kaedwen, take it your spies tipped you off I was returning, or was it more of your magic? "

@fallesto

[lured-into-wonderland]

Continued // @fallesto

Nunnally watched him. That small interaction with his squire, the way he dipped his fingers into the scented water he had been offered moments earlier. She was still sore from too much of his attention, yet she knew better than to complain; it would be pointless anyway. Aerion and Nunnally. The prince and  his lover. Though that word – ‘lover’ – was , indeed, an exaggeration. She was not worth enough to be called a lover. A royal harlot was closer to reality. Had she been highborn, they might have called it an affair. As she was, she was simply Aerion’s toy.

She made an effort to appear foolish, uninterested in whatever unfolded before her, but her gentle eyes missed nothing. Attention to detail had kept her alive in the past, and it remained her only hope for the future. She lay there, still naked, a fur draped over her slender form. Only when she shifted, did it slip, revealing a glimpse of alabaster skin; fragile, and now faintly bruised.

She noticed the squire’s glance; a mistake, boy; Nunnally thought; you shouldn’t be looking at me. Yet aside from shifting to lie more comfortably, she made no effort to conceal herself. Instead, she asked her question, hoping to distract the prince and let the boy’s insolence pass unnoticed.

Nunnally already knew the prince’s answer. He was not (that) difficult to read. Even for a simple merchant’s daughter, which she was not (or not really). But that knowledge changed nothing about how the world perceived her. Still, it was not so bad. She was used by one man, and not by many. She was a rare beauty, one that had bloomed from the filth of a poorer, less fortunate world. And now she was making her way towards something better. The prince was merely a step in the right direction, not the goal itself. She was not that foolish to assume he could be.

Aerion’s reply did not surprise her, though it was perhaps sharper than she had expected, sending a cold shiver down her spine. Perhaps she was unlucky that it was he who had noticed her; but it no longer mattered. What had happened could not be changed, and Nunnally would make the best of it.

“Good, then. Ambition is not something I lack.” – she made sure the squire had left the tent before allowing herself to sit, briefly exposing herself to the prince before drawing the silk robe around her. If anything, it made her appear even more sensual. And she needed Aerion to desire her (body).

“Shall I pour Your Highness some wine?” – she asked, fully aware that, despite everything, she was treading on the thin glass (of his patience). Waiting for his reply, she turned to face him, and then slowly approached him. Letting the robe slightly fall exposing her shoulders and her cleavage to him. A promise of pleasure he grew to enjoy.

“I’d like to see you dueling there one day…” she added; though Nunnally would have liked even more to see him lose, a wish she kept entirely to herself.

[lumenhollow]

CRADLE : sender picks up the injured / unconscious receiver and holds them close to their chest, carrying them to safety.  (For frog)

Torrential rain hammered down without mercy, each icy droplet pelting his tiny amphibian form like a thousand tiny accusations from the heavens themselves. Oh, what a wretched spectacle he made now the great party prince of Maldonia, the one and only Naveen, transformed into a slimy little frog and flung aside like yesterday’s confetti into some godforsaken, unfamiliar swamp of a land far from the glittering balls and infectious jazz he lived for.

His small, slick body felt impossibly heavy, every feeble twitch of his new limbs sending waves of exhaustion crashing through him. Not that he had the faintest clue how to move like this, mind you hopping about on all fours like some common pond dweller? Perish the thought! Even the mere idea sent sharp, stinging pangs of pain radiating through his fragile new physique. Of all the extravagant, champagne soaked ways he had ever imagined shuffling off this mortal coil perhaps collapsing dramatically at the climax of the grandest masquerade, surrounded by adoring fans and beautiful dancers this?

Being cursed into a frog and left to croak his last in the mud? That had never once crossed his mind.

After all, it wasn’t as if he had ever done a single thing to harm anyone. No, no, the world loved him! He was the Party Prince, the ultimate fun-loving rascal everyone clamored to have around. Friends? He had them by the boatload. Fans? They stretched across every corner of the globe at least, that was what he had always believed with all his roguish heart. Yet here he was, dealt the cruelest hand fate could possibly play: to vanish without a trace from the world’s glittering stage, with no one ever knowing what had truly become of Prince Naveen, the dashing heir to the throne of Maldonia.

Just as the darkness began to pull him under and he felt his weary eyes flutter shut for what he was certain would be the final time in his once glorious life, a pair of warm, gentle hands lifted him tenderly from the cold, unforgiving earth. Before he could summon even one of his trademark witty remarks or charming pleas, his eyes slipped closed, surrendering him completely to the velvet embrace of darkness.

[audaciious]

@fallesto continued from here (x)

"It wouldn't really matter if it were a problem, would it?" It didn't take a genius to realize that the few who wore resin bubbles were of the Noble and Celestial Dragon ilk. As much as she enjoyed flirting with death, there was something about his ominous presence that gave her pause. Likely the militaristic style of his clothes, the cool demeanor that disguised his true wickedness, both, or something else entirely. No doubt about it, she had just lumbered over something more fragile than eggshells.

The corner of her lip pulled upward into the smirk a tricky coyote might wear. Both dread and disdain lurked beneath a calm, friendly exterior. Death surrounded her; bodies had already become daycares for black flies or a macabre snack for brightly colored butterflies. Behind her, an agonized wail was chased by the loud laughter of someone she assumed was this man's capricious partner. Then, of course, in front of her, an equally terrifying figure that towered over her and the fields.

"What I'm more interested in is how." She had been resting beneath the grains when the first screams had been cut short. A wind had blown through, heads of wheat whispering to each other and warning her in vain to remain hidden. Her curiosity, however, was a virus that grew too quickly, drawing its host to the reaper's door time and time again before falling dormant.

Survival was only part of the game, knowledge the true prize. By the time she had arrived at the action, the people were too far gone to save. The bodies had been like breadcrumbs in their attempt to flee away from the imposing figure she now stared up at. The tip of her spade tail flicked against the waving stalks of unstained wheat with a growing eagerness. He had some kind of devil fruit, judging by his appearance, but what kind of abilities did it give him?

[chopperpirate]

@fallesto

Chopper squeaked in surprise when he felt something on his shoulder. Hearing the voice, the reindeer tensed up, standing as still as possible. This individual, much like the ghost he assumed she was, vanished and reappeared behind him without a trace where he just witnessed her, prompting him to grit his teeth in unease and clench his hooves into small, cloven fists.

"N-No! I was just… going back to the mansion!" He didn't even say which mansion, but considering where they were, it should've been obvious that he was going to Roswaal's home. His eyes quivered on the verge of tears as he still viewed this oddity as a potential threat.

[swordduels]

❛ i'm still in love with you … and i honestly never stopped. ❜

Circe eyed them with her brown eyes while combing through her black curls with gentle care. A quiet sigh made her bare chest heave slightly where she sat partly covered by purple covers. One leg dangled freely over the floor. Her other leg bent down to have a meeting between thigh and fibula. A pile of decorative pearls lay in front of Circe. "Is that so?" After a few brushing strokes she placed the brush and pearls onto her nightstand. "And you couldn't wait until tomorrow?" @fallesto

[whirling-fangs]

[ SLEEP ]: Kotoha brings a surprise home for her sleeping son to awaken to the morning too ....

Inosuke woke up to the touch of something warm and slimey frantically running across his face.

He tried to keep his eyes shut, his traits contorting in displeasure, until he finally caved in and glared at his mother's latest technique to get him out of bed. Perhaps she was running a sponge across his face, or a warm rag that she'd doused in water...

"Just five more minutes..." He pleaded, popping an eyelids open. Weird... since when was his mom blonde?

Wait a minute.

This wasn't his mom. This was a huge, smelly dog.

Long, cream colors hair. A pointy snout with a tongue sprouting out, licking his face like it was trying to get a taste of its next meal. Weird, bright golden eyes that shone with malice, and black hair above that almost looked like a pair of eyebrows.

"....mom! There's a weird fucking dog in here!!"

He tried to push the ugly thing away, only to discover the mess that awaited behind him. On top of the usual mess, that was.

His schoolbag was scattered across the ground, paper sheets reduced to shreds. An entire afternoon's attempt at homework, perhaps Inosuke's only chance to get a passing grade.

Devoured. Destroyed.

"... I'm gonna fucking skin you alive, you shitty mutt."

[onepiecc]

@fallesto ((give me Alucard!!!))

The desert was harsh and relentless as during the day the sun burned the sand, but at night a cold swept across the land. That night, the wind that swept across the dunes of Alabasta carried a chill that bit through silk, armor, and bone alike. Vivi stood at the front line, boots planted in sand that no longer felt like home. The moon hung too pale, as its light stretched thin as if something in the sky itself had been drained. She tightened her grip on her weapon, jaw set. “Hold formation!” her voice rang out, cutting through the unease. It did not tremble. Behind her, soldiers shifted, their spears angled toward the approaching dark. Torches sputtered in the wind, flames bending as though trying to flee. The city walls loomed at their backs, Alubarna, sleeping uneasily behind stone and faith. At first, the creatures had come as whispers.

A shepherd went missing, then a patrol found drained, untouched but for the hollowed look in their eyes. Then shadows began to move where shadows should not, stretching across the sand like living things. Now the monsters came in numbers. The queen saw them crest the dunes, silhouettes breaking against the silvered horizon. Her breath steadied before she shouted to her men. “Archers, loose!” A volley of arrows cut the sky, streaks of fire trailing behind them. For a moment, it looked beautiful before the arrows hit.

Some creatures fell, bodies collapsing into ash before they even struck the ground. Others who were faster twisted midair, dodging with unnatural grace while some simply kept coming, arrows embedded in their flesh as if it meant nothing. The first wave slammed into the front line as steel met claws. Torchlight caught glimpses of pale faces, eyes glowing like embers starved of warmth. Fangs flashed before blood followed, but the woman moved without hesitation. She stepped forward into the clash, her weapon arcing cleanly through the air. The first vampire lunged which was too fast for a normal soldier, but she had trained for worse than speed. Her strike caught it across the neck which caused it to hissed, recoiling, skin smoking where the blade kissed it. She pivoted, heart steady, and drove the weapon through its chest this time. The creature froze as its eyes widened not in pain, but surprise before its body crumbled into a scatter of ash that the desert wind eagerly claimed.

The battlefield dissolved into fragments of shouts, steel, the sickening sound of something not quite human feeding. Vivi’s world narrowed to movement and instinct. Step, strike, turn as she refused to yield ground. A soldier cried out behind her and the female turned just in time to see one of the creatures pin him to the sand, its head lowering. Vivi moved before the scream could fully form. Her strike was swift, precise, severing the creature’s arm before it could feed. It shrieked, high and inhuman, and she followed through, ending it before it could recover. “Get up!” she ordered, hauling the soldier back to his feet. He stared at her, shaken, but alive while the line held, but barely.

For every creature that fell, another seemed to rise from the dark. The desert itself felt wrong, as though it had become a doorway for something ancient and hungry. Even the stars above seemed dimmer, obscured by an unseen veil. Vivi exhaled slowly before a presence cut through the battlefield. The creatures nearest the dunes paused as Vivi felt it too, a shift, subtle but undeniable. The air grew heavier, thick with something far older than the things they fought. Her gaze lifted toward the ridge beyond the battlefield.

A figure descended the dune as though gravity were a suggestion rather than a rule. His red coat caught the faint light, a streak of color in an otherwise drained world. Eyes swept across the battlefield with detached curiosity as one of the vampires lunged at him. The creature’s body erupted, torn apart before it could even comprehend its own death. She met his eyes across the distance, unflinching despite the weight behind them. The woman had faced war, betrayal, and the collapse of a kingdom. She would not falter now, not before a stranger, no matter how monstrous he might be. Vivi exhaled, tightening her grip once more. “Push forward!” she called, voice cutting through the renewed clash. “Drive them back!”