Andarin: The Mountains: every drop of flame lights a candle in memory of the one {alkonost}

"Abra was ready ere I called her name;
And though I call'd another, Abra came."
-- Matthew Prior

Dreams about the Fifth Element? Oh dear; that’s odd. Cant say I’ve ever had dreams about World of Warcraft, but dreams about my characters have certainly penetrated my mind during deep slumber..

Like, for instance, once I dreamed Kurai and Alcatraz both got the shard (pre-shard for both of them, this dream was a long time ago) and ended up fighting over it. I’m beginning to worry that dream was a premonition of some sort. If it is, hey, at least its there for the lulz.

“Dead?”

He laughed; a slow, wicked thing.

When she ran, he followed suit - - Blitzstrahl has the uncanny ability of halting a horse in dead in its tracks. Alkonost would find this out soon enough.

“You’d be no use to me dead.” He said succinctly, his voice monotone and pointed. Alcatraz has killed before, yes; but never has he killed someone he knows would be useful later on. That was a mistake only hotheads made. No, the hrygla was not in Alkonost’s imminent future (at least, not on Alcatraz’s part).

“But I can promise you, when I leave you, you’ll wish otherwise.”

He stepped closer, his electricity snaking forwards. Wolkere, he hisses, and the electricity roared from his body to hers. She’d be experiencing something she’d never experienced before; the force of his electricity would make her pale body rigid with shock.

His laughter still echoed through Andarin.

He closed the gap completely, his barrel rubbing against hers. He slung his head over her withers, his massive jaws parting as his teeth sought to grip the sensitive part of her withers. Once he found purchase, his jaw locked and he shook his head powerfully (much the way a wolf would do to snap its prey’s neck), his teeth aiming to crunch and mangle wither beneath his powerful jaws.

This would also, with the added benefit of Blitzstrahl’s paralyzing nature, only further traumatize poor Alkonost.

Oh well. Tidal says she’s resilient. Alcatraz will test this.

With her withers still in his clutches, he pivoted his body so he was facing her. He released his clutch, trailing his savage muzzle along her spine. And then, effortlessly (as it was evident he had done something like this before and was well practiced) he performed a half rear and slung his weight across her back, mounting her.

Whether or not she’d consent to this was irrelevant; Alcatraz’s element (savage and superior to her cruel water) and super would keep her body paralyzed while her mind was fully aware of the proceedings. Kind of like watching a horror movie, only it’s happening to your own body.

Once properly (and comfortably, mind you, Alcatraz always has to be comfortable) positioned on her body, his teeth once more sought her flesh, securing around the fleshy part of her crest. Using his forearms he pulled her closer, almost embracing her as he began to defile her.

Hey, it’s like this: I lost my virginity, can I have yours?

Save for he never actually asked, and now he’s taking it. Twincest doesn’t count.

There was the sound of bodies brushing as he performed his wicked deed; the sound of rhythmical grunting and exertion as he ruined and ravaged her pale body. A fine layer of sweat coated his body as he ravaged her again and again; and worst of all, all the while he enjoyed it.

He stretched atop her, his body heaving and panting. Once he was finished, he slid off of her destroyed body. A cruel smile slid across his scarred muzzle as he brushed by her barrel. He turned to face her, rubbing against her skin. His electricity snarled along his body, yearning to once more slither across hers.

He turned his ugly muzzle to hers, his muzzle brushing against her cheek in what could be considered an equine version of a kiss. He trailed his muzzle from her cheek to her neck to her chest, ending the gesture with a swift nip placed on her chest.

“Now, love, don’t lie to me.”

He said it sweetly, though a hint of that old venom still lingered in his voice.

A L C A T R A Z
"I believe there are monsters born in the world to human parents. . . . The face and body may be perfect, but if a twisted gene or a malformed egg can produce physical monsters, may not the same process produce a malformed soul?" -- John Steinbeck, East of Eden