May 12, 2019
@arupugrin created this brilliant illustration of Shar and her two mates, Dione and Shono and I’m sobbing so hard
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@arupugrin created this brilliant illustration of Shar and her two mates, Dione and Shono and I’m sobbing so hard
@etroveria ‘s FREAKING AMAZING illustration of my vampiric creepy Chaghan baby, Shar. <3
f a n g i e s
ALSO Sunny Arts made these CUTE ASS little bbgirl Xaelas for me and friends. Shar looks way too adorable and innocent...but...
It’s the horn socks. ;///;
Neeever ending STOOOORRYYY
My very different ladies
*It's okay, Nhaama. It's okay.*
The calluses on his fingers scratch the outermost layer of her skin, but his grip feels good. Gently rolling over the planes of her arms. Tracing the divots in her oil black scales. Squeezing her hips, her thighs, drawing back the curtain of silk black hair atop her head. His hands have discovered every piece of her body to the point that she appreciates it in ways she never expected - even if at times it is is still difficult to do so. The night is bitingly cold but his hands, they are *flames*, licking down her pallid green flesh. A sea in moonlight. Even in his calmness, he excites her. The slightest kiss of mouth to skin can ignite a passion that would burn the tent they lay in into embers on the beach in a matter of hours.
But his words are lies.
It is not okay.
But...
His dark, dulcet voice is the only solace. The only sound that blocks out the screams --
At least, until those screams become his own.
"Shar."
Her name feels like a curse on his tongue. A tongue garbled by swollen lips, eyes seeking hers - seeking the soul inside them, fruitlessly - but blinking too feverishly with the thickness of his own blood, cascading down his face. A trail of corpses remain in her wake...and his is the last to complete the pile.
I'm sorry
I'M SORRY
My love,
I am sorry.
The sound is the tremor of a cry trapped within her own ribcage, trilling out - but it is transformed, from the inside out, into the beast on its rampage. Every apology becomes her fangs tearing into his throat. Her sword carving haphazard lines and whorls into his stomach, his legs. The heat of her terror and dejection reaches a fevered pitch; even though it cannot come out fully, turned to fire and ash as soon as it oxidizes in the air - it makes the Will more powerful. Somehow... it knows...
If she destroys any remnant of what he once was, she will void him from her memories.
And then....
On a filament of breeze, it all comes crashing down. He collapses in her arms - and the beast recoils, falling into the form of that soft, sad, fragile, naked woman, sobbing openly, holding her dying lover in her willowy hands. Petting him. Squeezing him. Tears soaking the rain of sludge and blood she's draped all over him like a king's robe.
*It's okay, Nhaama.*
*It is okay.*
It goes on as it does. The pain flies up with his soul, she assumes. The body festers in the sands. Both born to revel in this impassioned psyche at differing points in time, it was only a matter of such... who would slaughter the other first.