Soul Stalker

[Ainne Din]

The woman gasped at the icy touch of Ainne’s skeletal fingers, her dark eyes wide with anticipation and tinged with undisguised fear. Her dark hair quivered in the breeze of brandy-laden breath, the inky strands twining with the bone-white of Ainne’s silken tresses like the dappling of shadow and sun as their brows touched in a light kiss of skin. From wrist to elbow, then elbow to shoulder and back again, Ainne’s fingers whispered promises in the trail of gooseflesh left in their wake, hesitating only to pet those places where her pulse beckoned further attention. The woman’s lust resonated there, stirred despite her steadfast conviction that such could not be provoked from her by another woman. The excitement, Ainne knew, was born not from the seduction alone, but from the trickle of trepidation that coursed through the veins beneath her touch.

The thrill of the forbidden interspersed with the natural fear of the unknown resulted in an intoxicating and irresistible arousal for one such as this woman. She was young and wealthy, the combination of the two breeding an ennui that led the more foolish to seek out adventure in places that their sheltered lives had scarcely prepared them. Such flaws were a beacon to Ainne.

Cooing murmurs and heated whispers overrode the woman’s feeble objections as Ainne’s fingers traveled to tease more exotic regions. Thus enthralled, the woman mistook the firm grip at her nape as little more than evidence of Ainne’s ardor. It came as no surprise then that the woman offered little resistance, nay, was even eager for the touch of Ainne’s lush lips when they descended upon her in an open-mouthed kiss…

[Ainne Din]

The first scream was delicious when it echoed down the dark cavern of Ainne’s throat. The ivory-haired woman watched her prey’s dark and soulful eyes first widen with shock, then dance with frenzied panic as she realized her struggles were impotent against her would-be lover’s unnatural strength. There was no escaping this, her final kiss. Panic soon gave way to pain and horror; the woman felt her organs liquefying within the shell of her skin, overwhelmed with the force with which Ainne extracted her soul. The crunch of bone was audible though Ainne’s hands had not strayed from the woman’s face, the vacuum of Ainne’s mouth shattering the framework from within, only the clasp of the soul stalker keeping her from flopping to the ground like an abused rag doll. Soon, there were no eyes to scrutinize as they burst with a splatter of warmth against cold pallid cheeks. Skin split in jagged bloody fissures as Ainne drew the woman’s essence from every fiber of her body. When at last the feast was complete, Ainne released the woman, her remains so much unidentifiable pulpy tissue, it hit the pavement with a wet slap. The soul stalker did not hear it though, distracted as she was by the semi-orgasmic shudders that rippled over her own body when the absorption was consummated.

After a time, the satiated Ainne appeared at the mouth of the alley wherein she had lured her midnight snack. Her pale skin was stained with an unmistakable sanguine hue and bits of gore clung to the ivory silk of her hair. But here, in the Unholy lands, few would give the soul stalker a second glance – and those who did knew enough not to look too long.

[unholyhound]

[glow=red,2,300]Vibration[/glow], it began in the back of throat.

A snarl escaping spittle covered lips, flecks bouncing off the ground onto wood.

Hackles, they rose, muscles moved across the back and shoulders. Bulging tightly beneath matted and bloodied fur, veins thrusting forward as blood pumps faster.

Snout, covered in the bloody mess as jaws gnarled at the bones.

In so turning those unnatural eyes on the figure.

A "whine" it was so low, rising slowly in decibels as woman strode by.

Steps back, click clicking of nails on the wood, head lowered.

Snout pushing, pushing that torn mess on the ground. It was a body, he had dragged it here. Master and Mistress's calling his name from the nefarious depth.

Offer to other creature walking by, breathing roughly, fun game. Tearing body apart, dragging screaming, kicking figure.

Pointed ear flapping upwards, back legs strained high, head brought low. Hearing the [glow=red,2,300]plop, plop [/glow]of blood on ground, cold tongue slid out, [glow=red,2,300]pant, pant.[/glow]

Tongue loll outwards, flick against dangerous pointed teeth. Lift of upper quiver lip mass, a sniff. Deep within, he knows, creatures always know first of what dangerous things lie inside taker of souls.

All evil is coming.

All evil is coming [glow=red,2,300]home[/glow].

[Ainne Din]

The click of the woman’s heels halted like a held breath at the canine keening that rose in her wake. The soul stalker’s head pivoted, then canted to one side as she regarded the hound with eyes still imbued with an incarnadine sheen that marked her feeding. She held her hand out for the beast to sniff, more of a courtesy, a point of etiquette than for any true necessity – her scent was well known to those of his kind.

Greetings concluded, Ainne’s long thin fingers twined in a tangle of knotted fur as she crouched on her haunches beside him to view his prize. What it had been was unclear – gender, features, age all were obscured now by the hound’s play and she grunted in appreciation. But she could still feel the throb of life within the ruined shell, the siren’s song of the soul imprisoned inside the tormented body and bound to the trappings of the disintegrating mind. To harvest another so soon after her feast would be a greedy indescribable bliss.

When at last Ainne spoke, her voice was a soft and reedy sound, like winter’s wind through the bones of arbor, "If I partake of your toy now, Little One,” the moniker was an endearment, "it will become only meat for you. And I do not want to spoil your sport. When you become bored with it, if still it lives, I will dine on your generosity.” With a tug to the beast’s ruff, the soul stalker straightened, looking now glorious in her awakening, indeed at home amongst her corrupted kindred.