Roleplay Forums => Modern/Futuristic Roleplay => Topic started by: Verse on January 18, 2017, 08:44:01 pm

Title: Rush Revel [Fin]
Post by: Verse on January 18, 2017, 08:44:01 pm
Fall was as insistent as the scab on the corner of his mouth. A smarting presence, and an unwelcome preference. Dionysus who had started to wear his lighter than black but deeper than brown hair sweapt across his forehead, parted his lips to strain the cover of the hardened blood lid over the new wound. Cold air came across his teeth and tongue. Son of an empire of spirits. Mother fermented rice, father waited for barrels of oak and cherry. Beauty of the east in the taut skin, but the complexion was lifted by western, curved bone. Eyes the same paradox as his hair, inclined more toward the green of his father.

His journey through schooling - here in the gathered buildings meant to teach children from all social tiers that they could be something if they listened to their seniors - had been spotless; a quick fox on the fields, a sharp tooth scarping teachers many times in class, an absent lover to inspire sticky fingers of those that liked to love him by themselves. But the elegance and perfection had gone away with the glossy hair, held back by lush products. Everyone had their guesses on his lost inheritance and and the sluggish hardness in his new eyes.

Mother had cut lithe antlers into his forehead, starting from the inward points of his eyebrows. Beautiful twin pattern that scarred into pale seams. She meant to remind him that the recent things he felt were to be contained, better to be a victim than an avatar of hunger, but really, the antlers had gifted him an eternal, sophisticated scowl. That was why his hair was there now. So he was going to endure this place, like the starved and dying does a bustling bistro, and then he would be free, without the name he'd been born into, cast so far out, but also without a leash that kept him close to what he mustn't have.

A girl that had judge him all those other years had just left him on the yard. He liked to pretend to listen to music through the white chords between his shells and the black plate, but really, there was no song, just his hands holding up the device so he could stare at mother's monster, and father's nothing. The girl had confessed, said something about his new change, and drawn her feelings in gothic, stumbling earnest on a piece of paper that smelled like the leather of her bag. He'd put the letter back into her jacket and waved her away, wondering what kind of fight the mole on her neck would offer if he tried to pluck it with his teeth.

He sat back and waited for a ride that he'd never called for, to a hidden home his father owned but had forgotten. Dion stretched his lips again, and watched his black reflection hollow out. The phone shook when he did. This wind was cruel, ambitious. The shadow mirror in the quiet machine finally showed the scab breaking. With slow elation his pushed his jaw lower to invite the blood out faster. There was a line down to his chin, soon.

He'd hazed people like himself when they'd shown signs of bloody maturity. He supposed the would be receiving such attention this year.

Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on January 20, 2017, 04:19:34 am
She wore autumn better than the other seasons, perching between the thick of summer and winter bite in rainstorms and red leaves. The girl was probably quite lovely in the context of a transitional world.

Taken for her parts she was less perfect; if she had worn a single flaw it might have been endearing, like a snaggletooth, but she wore them all instead. Her slim neck was long and elegant, but almost so long that it was gangly. Her skin was delicate and milky, which sounded poetic if it hadn’t been for the insistent purple roots flushing below the surface. If her eyes had been a truer shade she might have claimed a pure and startling lack of pigment, but they were an orange like honey mixed with blood. Like she was trying to be beautiful and had fallen, instead, into the uncanny valley.

It was for all of that that she wore autumn better. Like the season, her cohesion was that she always looked like she was very ill and had the uncomfortable sweetness of something about to die. She was not about to die though, nor was she ill. In her favorite circles, they called her Sugar.

Sugar, who had long legs but was not very tall, lay on a rusted picnic table that late autumn afternoon. Despite the nickname, she was not very well liked at the school she attended. In fact, it was not at school that they called her Sugar. At school, they did not call her very much at all; she was brazen in uncomfortable ways. Sugar had matured quite young, as unfriendly homes are wont to encourage, and found her new name among friends who had appreciated it when the schoolchildren had not. She was waiting for those friends now.

The car that pulled into the parking lot some yards away was old in the sort of way that “second-hand” wouldn’t do justice. Sugar recognized the husky sputter of the engine and sat up as it parked, waiting until the noise had died down and the dull glow of headlights had winked out. She hopped off the table then and shoved her hands into her jacket pockets before heading toward the vehicle. It was a crisp day, and she could see her breath steam and curl when she exhaled. Still, the sun on her back was warm in a polite way. It lit the somewhat darker trails of her starkly pale, angular bob in suggestive shades of cream and gold.

A thin young man with close cut hair and a thick, full beard leaned out the passenger side as Sugar stepped onto the asphalt, mud from the field sloughing from the prints of her old boots. "Sugar, you've been really helpful this week. We have a treat for you." he said. Sugar pushed a finger into her dimple, grinning. Pretty white calf with a wild pulse.

"Good stuff?" She asked. Danny scratched his chin through the dense scruff of his beard.

"Yeah, of course," Danny said. Sugar bit at her lip and hummed.

Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on January 22, 2017, 09:04:21 am
He knew about her. Tall short girl, unfriendly. Older than her age but not in the way that kept her in dusty corners and moth-ridden cadence. The kind of old that makes you wonder if she judged your lacking vices and small adventures. She had lived a few of your lives already. She'd had all your fun many times over. And she wore the wear like badges.

Dion hadn't been interested in that kind of flare of existence before, no more than through inspired stupors, looking at asphalt and roaming, ripped up socialites. He'd been primed for a slower flame. All the trimmings and all the fat. Now that he'd have to claw and pull for those gilded echelons, his fall quite public - an easily read end - he thought of derailing his course often, with slashed jeans and indifferent eyes. Cowardice for the task, sure, but also a string of rebellion running a hurtful, eager tone through his confused heart.

He ran the ball of his wrist over the blood from his lips and watched her over the edge of his slumbering phone. Creatures like her, and the ones that lured her from her rusted slab, over the field, didn't care about creatures like Dion. They would if they knew he wanted to sleep in their leaking childhood and lap at their memories. They didn't turn his way. Or he'd simply become one with the stone of the school. He realized the insignificance of all his anger and all his shame as he silently tore the plugs from his ears and stuffed the ivory chord back into his pocket, and flattened them with the phone, also.

He came up to the car, endless march in September, and saw the driving bear-man look away from the giraffe girl. Dion heard their conversation well enough, could guess on the bits that weren't said. He was out of place here, where he'd walked a thousand times, because they'd brought their world along with the rusted vehicle. He was disruptive enough that he had their attention, surely, under the gray linen bunched on the sunless sky. Dion, double breasted and straight-backed, didn't expect to impress the scruffy entrepreneur. The girl would most likely be either deeply indifferent or darkly disapproving. There is tension between a polished, prim lion cub and the congregating hyenas.

"I'd like some of what you're selling." he said, and realized the wording was unfitting for the setting. Dion offered them sooty jade eyes and a hard jaw to cement the gravity of his request. He tried not to wonder about the veins around her eyes, and her meat, kept warm under her jacket. "She said I could wait for you guys." he nodded to the girl. They would know how to chemically navigate urges. The girl, the picture of her own, stable wilt, was drawn into this deceit without her consent. Dion hoped his cleanliness would alarm the driver enough to press her, and that she'd go along with it. Startled dealers clam up, or deal through a barrel, he'd heard.

For good measure, he stroked his fingers over the ivory likeness of horns on his forehead, to drive his hair back and up. Perhaps scars would make a connection between them all.

Lately, just like people knew her as Sugar, he'd become known as Deerest. It was his mother's name for it that had somehow bled onto fellow tongues. Perhaps he looked like venison now.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on January 22, 2017, 11:44:39 pm
Sugar had sucked eagerly at that lower petal of her pink mouth, which looked like a bright wound on her white face. Sugar, because she was delectable and took imprints like some depraved and lustful canvas. When the boy sidled up her bloody ocher eyes pinned him with a sudden and startling ferocity. It wasn’t emotional, just feral. When she recognized him, or his posture, she scowled and sucked harder at her lip. Sugar didn’t know his name, just his type. Or the type he’d been trying to wear. Maybe he fancied himself something different now.

Danny was stoic, because there was a certain lack of legality in his business that had forced him to develop a reasonable poker face. The bluntness with which Dionysus made his request seemed to shock them all. Unpleasantly so. For her part, Sugar bit hard into the flesh of her rounded blush when he threw out their contrived connection. It drew blood, which she breathed in and took covetously with the tip of her tongue. Danny squinted at him. The driver, who had been so far uninvolved with the exchange, rolled his hands over the steering wheel.

Nobody seemed convinced, but Danny did begin to laugh after sufficient pause. “Sugar said?” he snickered. Sugar hissed.

“I don’t know this prick.” She said promptly. The too-large orange eyes were still fixed unflinchingly on Dion. The driver laughed too. “Like I’d buy shit from these two. I don’t buy anything, so I don’t recommend anything.” Reality was that Danny’s ring was the only group in town with the stones to monetize the trade. Sugar didn’t have to pass anyone their way; people wound up in Danny’s lap on their own. It seemed that Dionysus had somehow hurt her pride, but it had been amusing to Danny and his driver so he’d not quite blundered into failure yet.

Danny was rubbing his left cheek, the rough scratching of his beard against his skin was rhythmic and demonstratively thoughtful. There was a flash of enlightenment when Dionysus pushed at his hair and gave Danny a good look at his pretty white scars. “Oh, well, now you wouldn’t happen to be the new kid Deerest, would you?” he asked. Sugar’s stare snapped in Danny’ direction.

“Does it matter? I’m hungry.” She said, blunt. The shift of her shoulders said she wouldn’t care if Dionysus was Deerest or anyone else worming their way into her circle. She didn’t like his type. Vile little creatures until they got a taste themselves.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on January 23, 2017, 08:50:59 am
Sugar, then. Sugar had been full of fire for him as he decided to join them. Teeth into the framing flesh of her mouth, hard. It was distracting, seeing the texture protest against her continued, deeper abuse. He let her have her anger at first, having expected something unwelcoming for inviting himself into their place of business. Then, the honeyed blood came out from that rosy, lower curve, all beneath the blooded honey of her eyes. He was offended by the lust it conjured from him, this alabaster filth that he considered her. Such an insult he had to forget, too, as the beard delivered inside the decaying chariot.

When Dion had recovered from his jealous, inward fit, at her tongue for having cleaned her of red so selfishly, she - who forced him to look back at her with cold challenge in his black to greens eyes - spat out a promise that she did not know him, and underlined with it that she had no interest to. The half smile he offered in reply was demeaning, an owner to rabid critter, as was the usual, starting weapon in the circuits of silver spoons he'd come from.

The judge recognized the marks - Dion had hoped to use them as a badge of a life lived rather than a mark to pinpoint exactly who he was - and pushed the issue. Dion gave the smile to Danny then, and tilted his head with all the spoiled perfume on his behavior. A shrug. The wilting, translucent girl who was most offended barked again, and in her sound Dion found macabre, common ground. He'd come for medicine, but perhaps they dealt in indulgence, rather. Hungry, me too.

Dion didn't hide his interest, but his calm belied its magnitude as he quickly made way, closer to this element of darkness his now gone heritage had shielded him from, and stood with his shoulder alarmingly near Sugar's. He was certain she wouldn't be shy of pouncing on him for continued transgressions, tear in to him until he was forced to bite back, but for now his posture had to suggest he hadn't a worry in the world. He'd have to be a loose statue while she was a lynx.

"Whatever she's having." he said and looked at Danny again, as though Dion's throat wasn't clenching, wretchedly aware of Sugar's proximity. He wouldn't mind bashing her head against a concrete angle so her leaking spirit would take its livid scratching energy elsewhere, he wouldn't mind fucking her within an inch of her wasted life. He wouldn't mind counting her heartbeats by dipping his front teeth into her top vertebrae. No one here was under his father's employment, no one was forced to oblige, so Dion offered what he could, instead, what he knew. "If there's a party I'm going. Bet there's a meat locker somewhere." he didn't know why in the world he'd use that term or how he'd swallow fast enough to save his drowning tongue at the tempting thought. "You're into money, right?" that much they had to believe. His lanky frame - bred to charm as though he couldn't eat all the food in the world - on which the still-in-style jacket hung, and his clean shoes at the end of artfully wiry legs - the misunderstanding that he had money to throw around wasn't a far cry.

He'd come along in the murderous car, sit like some witless prey, or he'd bicker or fight with Sugar right here, as long as there was something for him in the end, that quenched or smothered the hunger-churn making its gyre inside. He had droves of bravado that he'd planned to spend on abstinence, but he found that he'd rather pay with it now, to have something delicious. The lengthy, willow-limbed poet frame, son of a barrel Barron, waited to either plead his case further, or be accepted into whatever debauched reward Sugar wanted.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on January 24, 2017, 12:10:05 am
Sugar saw nothing of his demeaning smile. She had crashed through those looks before, sick boys and girls with egos like the sun. Crashed into them like the cold and swallowing moonlight, ripped their cheeks open with her scalding blood, watched them drown in their own disgust. They were feeble, all of them. The ones who wanted to beat the hunger out of others did it so quell their own. Those high and mighty eyes, red with angry tears, sobbing slaves suckling on her flesh like it was all life and all death. She was sure it was always that way.

Truthfully, she was probably wrong, but she’d been right often enough to wear her scars like badges of authority. Danny liked her because of it. Fearless, flippant thing. Not everyone learned to love being tinder as much as they loved being fire. Sugar was voracious. Eat your muscles, eat your mind, the too-vogue girl didn’t care. She was always consuming. It was her turn to smile. Broader when he said juvenile things like they were earning him a place in their world.

“Deer.” She said, because he was food before he was endearing. “You can’t have what I’m having.” Facts, not bravado, and she was a Cheshire cat watching him stumble toward wonderland. Danny whistled low.

“Well, she’s right, more or less.” He admitted, though he gestured with a jerky thumb at the back seat of the car. “But I don’t mind selling to those who will pay. You’ll pay with what you’ve got first, and then I’ll give you what you’ve got enough to get.” He said, almost humming, like it was some sales jingle he’d practiced. It wasn’t, precisely.

Sugar didn’t seem to mind that answer. She didn’t like Dion’s type, but she didn’t have a reason to care about Dion. Sugar was in the business of keeping people in their place. Deer’s place didn’t matter beyond the fact that Deer’s place was not the same as Sugar’s. He wasn’t the same as she was. He was selfish. Prejudiced. A borrower of her red dripping culture. He could sit at the fringes until he’d suffered a bit. Been burnt a bit.

Have what she was having. So utterly ridiculous.

Sugar pushed past the boy and his slim frame lightly, like it was her right and it would be stupid for him to complain. Still, when she threw open the back door of the car and the hinges groaned in protest, she slid to the far side of the row so that he could take the spot behind Danny if he wanted. “We’re wasting time. You only give me fresh presents. I wouldn’t want to let that spoil.” Sugar suggested. She shot Dionysus a glance that said to hurry up or get out of the way. Hungry animals are dangerous, no matter the size.

When they pulled out of the lot, the driver spoke up for the first time. “If you haven’t got enough to pay, Sugar’s usually up for charity work.” He said. Sugar folded her arms across her chest, but laughed too.

“Like he’d know what to do with that.” She said. There was a bit of quiet in the car after that, save some questionable garage band music growling intermittently from the old tape deck. “But he’s right, if you’re willing to grovel.” She said. The smile he received then was equally predatory but a significantly more coy. They usually weren't. They usually did anyway.

Sugar dug in her jacket pocket to produce a rumpled pack of cigarettes and a half-empty lighter. Danny reached back for one without looking. Soon, coils of thick, heady grey were seeping from their lips. 
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on January 24, 2017, 10:12:19 am
He was very theatrical about ignoring her when she informed him he could not have what she was to be rewarded with. It was likely of no consequence to her, his expressed indifference, she'd not said it in a way that needed reply. The scruffy seller liked the terms enough, though, and there was a seat for Dion on this carriage. Sugar slid in first, passed him with as much consideration as he was due for his intrusion. He nodded at the man and considered the girl who'd taken seat far in.

Beside her soon, hands in his pockets and staring out the window that vibrated with the start of the car. She'd been so explicitly welcoming, after all. Dionysus had a good profile from where she sat. A polished, lithe wraith by design, his angles vivid from her view. The hair was back over the scars, and in his eyes, even. The way she'd spoken about presents, those eyes were desperately glassy with want, anyway. A swallow ran through his defined throat.

He had to smile and play along with the seller when he jested about Sugar's propensity for generosity. Dion turned and considered her for what he wanted. The games he wanted to play would be devastating on her complexion. Her veins were already suggesting the path of his bladed attention. He gave his admiration as an insult that would surely not harm her. Girl like Sugar would have men considering her for her body and guess in its talents all the time. "I can pay you too, Sugar." he promised. No groveling, at least not from the beginning. Who knew how he'd feel if his desires flared, though. He still wasn't sure what they were selling, but he'd not say no to a rumble with her. Maybe folding her beneath him, wildling that she presenter herself as, and then throwing her away could redirect his thrumming hunger for a while. It would be a good memory, at least. "You look like a haggler. Go ahead and flatter yourself." Name a price. They were already engaged in this twining of wits. Better she not smell his inexperience, or shame, yet.

The smoke should well hide it, he hoped as he parted his jacket. He thought further about their product as the road rocked the car. Poor ways, here. He realized he wanted it to be girls with broken ankles, or boys with no shoes - slow or limping unfortunates that people had forgotten, with taut skin and good screams. He wanted them to taste like a nosebleed, or a split lip. He was lying overly when he pretended he only thought Sugar was a rude harlot. He'd have her too, with that neck.

When he realized her wounded lips were putting a mark on the filter she was suckling, he reached confidently, swiftly. He would fight her for it if she didn't think he was being conventional in stealing the stick. He'd swat her hands away and even hold them off until he could pinch the favor and bring it to his own mouth. If they knew what he'd become he was being obvious, and if they didn't he was just another spoiled boy, claiming what his whims demanded. Part of him wished Sugar would loose it and have at him already, do her worst so he could color her in violence also. Dion was fast becoming unhinged behind his airs, with this much promise of a bloody world.

In the end he'd have that cigarette and he would talk in smoke as he nursed it, close. "Mind if we hurry up?" he asked. "Moon tan and I are getting impatient." he pressed with some audacity. It was to be expected from him, and he was truly falling apart inside.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on January 27, 2017, 03:32:46 am
Sugar exhaled slowly, the wisps of hot smoke scrawled from her lips like a lewd drip. “I don’t take money. I’m not a whore, Asshole.” She said, Amber eyes on his light cut profile. She took payments in pride and blood, set jaws clenching under the heavy stroke of her tongue. “Right now, you’re not seeming like you’re worth the time. Let Danny sell you a bucket or a boy and be on your way.” She settled back into the musty seat, pale strands catching in the old plush. Honestly, she liked them better when they hadn’t admitted they were hungry at all. His sort seemed to think they were owed something for digging in their teeth.

He reached for her cigarette and she let it go with a soft gasp but no fight. Throaty laugh as she pulled another from her pack with a deliberate hand and shoved it between her lips. It was possible for Sugar to be wrong and admit it. Maybe he could be taught to beg, if he was that kind of desperate. She yawned and a ring of roiling grey seeped forth. “Antagonizing me is kind of wasted here, don’t you think?” she asked him, ashing her cigarette through the cracked window. “New kid.” Because he didn’t know anything beyond his own appetite and all the money and pretend in the world couldn’t rub away that stink.

It was good to be gluttonous. Liberating, even, but Sugar fancied herself to be above his amateur grasps at freedom. Her years plying taboo meats between her teeth made her a wild thing born. To her, he was a stray. Her gluttony was more refined because it was shameless. Blameless. She had never been taught to walk on a leash. Sugar was staring at him with her firebrand eyes. “Maybe you’re proud of yourself or something?” she asked, then huffed as if she already had the answer and turned her shoulders so that she could stare comfortably through the dirty window.

Danny stretched in his seat. “Not everybody is trying to impress you, Sugar.” He remarked. Sugar didn’t move.

“They should be.” She said. Danny bobbed his head a little.

“Yeah. I suppose so.” He chuckled.  “You’re not the nicest kid, Deerest, from what we’ve heard. There was a boy, what was his name… fuck, I don’t know. We called him Bones, though. Shy and weepy. Really skinny. Felt bad about everything. Bad for eating, bad for feeling bad about it.” Danny took a long drag and coughed once. “Heard he ran into some of your old friends. Dunno if you were part of it, exactly, but whatever. Bones took a dive off the bridge a couple of weeks later though.”

Sugar seemed unmoved by the story, but she’d probably heard it a few times by now. “Not that it matters what you were before, little Deer.” She murmured. It wasn’t forgiveness exactly, nor sympathy. Again with the curious facts. They were strange and naked, laid out like that. “But it does make the swagger a little stale.”

And then she was a bit more biting again, annoyed because he thought to speak for her again. “You’re the only who’s impatient. Speak for yourself, you whiny brat.” She snipped. They were probably the same age, or close to it. Still, it was convenient that their driver swerved down a dusty path and lurched the car into the woods then. It wasn’t too long before they had pulled up to an old RV, parked at a neglected camping site. “You really did mean good stuff,” Sugar breathed then, more enthusiasm in her then. Danny whistled a short fanfare.

“For the sweetest girl. Like I said, you’ve been a real help recently.”

Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on January 27, 2017, 07:31:00 am
He made sure she had a wink for her trouble of defending her virtue. You would do better than you do now as a whore, that asymmetric blink told her. He took his vacations far from here, where his company was sometimes exactly between the social spheres, his behavior would sometimes spark interest or hatred or both. Back then, he could afford throwing people away for not being his kind of broken, for not missing his brand of abuse.

The lift of his brow encouraged her to go on when she asked him how to better spend his time here, but his eyes were somewhere distant. You are not entertaining me. He took the freedom of inspecting her parts instead of answering her about his pride. He particularly liked her neck, of course, and thought she'd done well to keep her hair short that it could be served up. If he answered honestly, he would have to explain that his smallest efforts were worth more than he now might have from a real struggle. An angry blue-blood, unable find a court. And her veins were pretty garnish, too.

Whether it be to cement her perceived value to him, or simply because Danny appealed more with his topic, Dion looked forward to the seller, the deliverer, and let her question die in the air. A cold blanket clad Dion quickly at the memory of Briar Ention. Beautiful boy who'd been instructed by his parents to climb in echoing halls and expensive cellars. Briar had been your typical omega, but with a sweetness about his small limbs that would reach out to cling to Dion for the kindness he'd shown. Briar wouldn't end this attachment even when Dion played with him until he was left crying on the other end of manhood. Other boys liked to test the new, and Dion was already voracious. Dion wondered if Briar had jumped because Dion had let the others have his body and blood, too, and shared in the banquet, or because of the obvious victim angle. Love or ego.

Would Danny see the palette of self-hatred and carnivorous challenge in the rear-mirror when he looked back at Dion, then? "Are you complaining? Sounds like Bones made for good goods for your enterprise to peddle, all spread out like that." Speaking stung the tongue better than father's spirits. Sugar spoke again and this time he was engaged. "You'll have to make do with stale. We don't-- swagger where I'm from." An asinine, apologetic smile. He was all too grateful for her anger - a brat he could be, in fact, he'd never been anything else.

All the promise of having found a well for his thirsts and a tree for his hungers mixed adrenaline into his skeletal extremities. He was quietly undone when the car took them somewhere seedy and secret, into the trees, and the castle or flaking paint and caking dirt sat there, parked. What could possibly be in it? He looked away from the sight so he could continue his facade of being a prince playing with urchins, but he turned to Sugar by mistake, and she was shown his starvation, written in the shadows under his eyes. Winkles on his cheek and nose asked her what the fuck she was looking at.

"I would like to see." He said and opened his door with some annoyance, the same eager a frustrated lover might use on another lover's jacket. He put his hands in his pockets, fists tight, but stayed by the car. He wanted the RV to bleed into this wretched weather. He wanted it to be saturated. All the money Mother kept him with, even his inheritance before Father realized his affliction, Dion would have thrown it all at Danny's feet. The picture of expecting impatience, he dug his heels into the dirt, waiting. Dark greens turned to the others, imploring them to hurry up. Danny had said explicitly this was for Sugar. Dion had thought he could start with scraps, but he wondered if she could see he might defy her for whatever treasure she'd earned, here.

"Comon. Let's see if you have anything worth my while." His mask was cracking, drawn out Olympian fallen so far. This tavern of filthy nectar. He took a breath and huffed, looking into the woods to see if he could find some solace in bark. He coughed once and lowered his shoulders before looking at them again. A pert frown. "If you'd please." One hand went from its pocket to extend toward the RV, opening an implied door and beckoning the way. The jacket was flawlessly cut, as was his body, all of it out of place with its sheen, out here in the earthy nothing. Still so expectant, blue-blood.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on January 27, 2017, 05:04:15 pm
Danny shrugged. “Did I say I had a problem with it? Just said you’re not the nicest kid. Case and point.” He said. “Friends are important, sometimes.” He said. Which was not a suggestion that he’d like to be Dion’s friend. Sugar smiled around the filter. She lived for her friends, after all. Lived off them too. They were all a bit slower out of the car than Dionysus, the car’s driver casting a vaguely pitying glance in their tagalong’s direction. He was hungry, which was how they all were, but he thought he was starving. Sugar, with her monstrosity of an appetite, was never starving. It was best to accept this was all excess they’d die for. It meant they were miserably selfish beings, but self-aware.

Sugar tossed her short white hair and gave Dion a pitiless glance. “I don’t care for peeping toms. You need to conduct your business with Danny, anyway. Or do you not understand that much, either?” she asked. The girl was scrappy, at least, and therefore a continued immunity to Dionysus’ oozing self-importance prevailed in her cheekiness. She shrugged and sidled toward the RV door.

Danny followed her a few paces and the driver stayed close to Dion, as if both men were ensuring she reach the creaking old structure alone. Deerest was volatile and young and there had been more than a few bloody endings in these woods over lesser things. “Sorry, Deerest, it’s the other way around. We’ll see if you have anything worth my while. And Sugar takes her fun alone, so, as a businessman concerned for customer service you’ll have to understand when I tell you to wait your turn.” He was tall and wiry standing outside the vehicle, with aggressively laid ink across his shoulders and down his arms. Despite the chill, he seemed comfortable in his thin undershirt. A certain sort of businessman, then.

“She thinks she’s here to sneak a taste before she goes back to the city.” Danny told Sugar. “I think she’s angry. She’s been waiting in there a while.” Sugar pressed her palms together and skipped a step.

“She sounds lovely.” Sugar said, and disappeared inside. Danny turned back to Dionysus and shrugged.

“Well, cocky prince, you heard the conditions when you got in my car. You pay up first and I see what I’ve got for you. If you give me more than I’ve got to exchange, you keep your cash and I come back to you when I’ve got something worth it. If you’re fixated on something with a heartbeat, you best wait for Sugar to finish up and see if she’s in the mood to throw scraps. I don’t store that sort of thing without a claim already on it.” Danny flicked the remains of his cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath his heel. “Sugar doesn’t like to kill hers though.”

There was a loud thud inside the RV and the vehicle bobbed on its flat tires. Danny and his friend were standing between Dion and his only way into the RV with a set to their shoulders that said they weren’t inclined to move until Dion had started making good on his allusions to wealth. “If you’re not in the mood to share and you have the money, I can get you your own by tomorrow night. Otherwise it's parts today, nothing else.”
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on January 28, 2017, 12:32:56 am
He was a peeping tom, though. During the thick of the hazings at the better school, he'd watched children like himself grow into something else before his eyes. He'd lash them and squeeze them together in containers, or have them kiss upside down, hanging from posts, bleeding, to push them into their evolution. At the dawn of his own maturity into to these tastes, he'd mistaken it for healthy, diverse deviancy born from his exposure to their demise and confessions. It is only human, he thought, to want to gnaw until your lover faints, when you've seen such a delectable thing happen.

Dion was envious at the very least when Sugar went with her white body into the gloriously speckled vehicle. There was only Danny and his driver left. Listening to their conversation about what waited for sugar in there fanned the furnace in his chest. It was hard to quell the insult of them keeping it from him with tempered patience, but he did. The two other males were strategically placed between the spoiled buyer and the RV turned feeding ground. Dion listened to the conditions repeated and needed very much to be reminded when the springs were tested in the smallest way. "Mh." he gave as he lifted the cigarette with Sugar's honey still bright on the filter from his pocket. He'd saved it in the car by crushing the ember. He didn't smoke as a habit and relied on Danny to come closer with a lighter.

If he did, Dion would have a thought to catch that too-thin top and pull him in, maybe bite down on the inked shoulder while he crushed a fist through that beard, more than enough to rattle his gray mass to lie him down. Would Danny see the plan as he put orange light to those pedigree features? In the end Dionysus did not go through the two with all his vile learned from boy-on-boy upbringing in stone establishments. He'd only gracefully smoke the once again dying stick and ponder the offer with three loud huffs. If Danny thought any of it was bold, then all the better.

"All of it." he said and pulled up a wallet that still smelt like it was new leather. He didn't suppose the cards would be needed. He always kept a large paper fortune to impress bullies if they ever thought to relieve him, new school and all. Ten bills, pressed. He held them up, folded. Dion wasn't so deep in money he could afford this, anymore, not if he wanted the future he'd have to pay for himself, but he wasn't going to be stingy on their first meeting. The first taste for both of them. "Scraps to take home, Sugar's leftovers, something for me tomorrow." he considered what people here could afford to pay. It shouldn't be more than this. For good measure, he slid four more bills into the offering and then held it out insistently at Danny. It would be tempting again to try murderous tricks to have them both out of his way when the leader took the paper.

"I like something with freckles, this time. Bitterly hopeful. You can make up a story." he smiled innocently and took out the cigarette, blowing its tar vapors onto its own fire, to enhance the glow for a second. Talking about it made him hungrier, but finally placing an order soothed his soul, at least. Dion looked toward the RV with frustration. There wasn't really a bad ending to this. Even if Sugar did snuff the treat in there, their remains would still be warm, their would be pregnant like in a smokebox. His mind was as depraved as the schoolmates he'd bullied and ruined now, anyway. Might as well descend into whatever madness this all lead to.

"So," he said. Small talk was absurd, and they all knew it. Perhaps they could quietly enjoy the joke. "How's the chances for my own hunting around here? Club scene, hangouts?" Not likely Danny or Driver would advise him on how to bypass their business. Another audacity, then.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on January 29, 2017, 01:05:09 am
Danny was sluggishly slow as he lit Dion’s half-gone cigarette. He caught the shadow of the younger boy’s plans as they flitted behind the dark moss eyes, but carried on. It would be stupid to follow through, and Dionysus was bright enough to realize that. With all the posturing to this point, it would have been a waste to sully the tentatively drawn arrangement forming here. Like Dion’s momentarily violent ambitions, the cigarette flared an amber like Sugar’s eyes and then dulled to a quiet burn.

Danny arched his remarkably thick brows at the request. “All of it. Well, I do like greedy kids with deep pockets.” He admitted. Sugar was not one of those, but he liked her too. He plucked the bills from Dion’s offering fingers and leafed through the bills while he thought. “This is enough for what you’re asking, more or less.” He said, stroking his beard with his free hand. “Sugar’s leftovers are Sugar’s. It’s kind of rude to give a present and take back what gets left behind.” Danny suggested, though he did shrug and add, “Though it’s also a little rude to leave anything behind.”

“Scraps I’ve got, and they’re a week old held in vodka.” He said. “Which, honestly, would be about this much,” Danny held up three bills. “For the quality more than the quantity, this time.” He supposed it was best to teach this economy now if the eager aristocrat was so inclined to spend his money. “Mostly organs, which are hard to get.” Limbs were easy. There was a group who got off on losing limbs and taking them but never had plans for the parts they removed. A weird inclination that Danny didn’t quite jive with despite his business, but they were a good source once you knew where to look.

There was another ruckus inside the RV that gave Danny pause before he waved the rest of the bills and continued on. “The rest will get you a nice date for tomorrow night. I can probably do freckles, probably can’t promise anything pristine. Untouched pretties brought on order will cost you more than this kind of pocket change.” Danny said. The driver, who’d been more or less silent, was nodding then.

“Most people do their best to pick up the rarities on their own.” He said. It was friendly advice that said he and Danny weren’t worried for their business anyway. Capitalizing on the dark pits of human nature promised a steady income so long as they had the stomach for it.


She wore her freckles like a light and unexpected galaxy, spattered across the bridge of her small nose and the soft arches of her cheeks. “I’m worried about him lately. He’s got kind of a frightening look in his eyes.” She sighed and rolled onto her side, muted green eyes some shades lighter than her twin’s.

“You’re always worried about Dion,” Phaedra laughed softly, tucking a long dark strand of hair behind her ear. She said it lightly, but the dark grey eyes, so dark they were nearly black, betrayed her own concern.

“Like any good big sister would be.” Poppy said. Phaedra waved her hand dismissively.

“Older.” She scoffed. Poppy held the twenty-minute age gap she had over her brother in great seriousness, when it suited her. “Still, should we go look for him later? It isn’t as if we don’t know where he’s staying.” Phae suggested. Poppy pursed her lips. Though Phaedra and her mother were dear to the family, they had been spared the details of Dion’s sudden leave from the house.

“You could lose your job if Mom or Dad caught you sneaking after him. I can go alone.” Poppy said lightly. Phaedra’s pretty pink lips curved downward ever so slightly. She was disappointed. Sweet girl.  Poppy stared quietly at the other girl’s back as Phae went back to tidying up Poppy’s vanity. They had more or less grown up together, but there was a curious distance now. Now that Poppy and Dion had a secret and Phaedra hadn’t awoken to the same desires. “He’s just being difficult. I’m sure he’ll come home soon.” Poppy suggested. She had always had a bit more self-control than Dionysus.


Danny frowned. “Hunting sounds kind of vulgar.” He said, and he didn’t seem to find it ironic. “But the city is better for not getting locked up, if that’s what you’re asking. Around a place like this, consent is important or you’re getting scraps. You’re a rich kid, aren’t you? You should know everybody knows everybody out here.” He said. Danny had his connections elsewhere, and that was why Danny ran the trade out here.

“You can go take a peek through that window if you want.” He said abruptly, shoving his thumb over his shoulder. “She says she doesn’t like peeping toms, but she’d doesn’t actually mind it. Just as long as you know what’s hers is hers, Sugar is as sweet as her name.” He pocketed the bills. “Or, if that’s not your thing I can just go get your bucket now.” He folded his arms across his chest. “No real reason to keep you around unless you’re planning to wait on her.”

If he did venture a peek, Sugar was laying on the bed, jacket discarded and painted in red and satisfaction. The other girl on the bed was still breathing, barely, and slack-jawed as she drooped against the headboard. Sugar had her fingers knuckle deep in the girl’s forearm and her teeth around her wrist; the girl was already lacking in a good portion of her throat. If Sugar wore autumn well, she wore blood and abandon better.     
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on January 29, 2017, 05:40:49 am
It was an unexpected relief to hear the money had been enough. Small sigh in smoke. How mortified Dionysus would have been if this place and its foremost tradesmen were too hefty for his treasury. He could wait to see what the girl would let him have. Dion made no sign of being content with that in front of Danny, though. Taking food from someone else's discarded plate seemed like another meaningful milestone in this continued descent. The shame hummed well in his head filling with smoke. Most of it was shaken to nothing by the swimming excitement of it all.

A grin for the revealed price for scraps. Dion nodded at that, even. Good to know. Not even as high as appetizers at the favorite family eatery, where Poppy liked to make sure he ate, at all. He pushed this moment, the acuteness, over her memory for now. She shouldn't be here with all her understanding. Organs. "Vodka is good." he'd drink it as an insult to his parents. A gasp, outside of the character he was playing, at the thought of eating a heart or a liver. Decadence in his new, filthy world.

"Then I'll start out with whatever you can get me." he said and was already anxious for tomorrow. Why had he requested freckles? Pictures of a brightly smiling sister would tell him, on the background of his phone. He didn't have time for such introspection now. "Pristine next time, though, yes? I'll pay whatever you want. I have gold and rocks too, if you deal in it." But really, he was paying with his shame and his past life, not fat rings and gaudy necklaces. All her could do was pretend he was right at home here, dealing with death and mutilation for a menu.

The city it would be, for his own stalking. Somehow hearing it from Danny made it more of an option. Good advice. This dealer was good when you payed him well. There was plenty of affection in it, Dion was sure. Best friends now, brothers, really. "Don't get the bucket." slipped before he could contain all of the urgency in his voice. Dion hated himself for the stagger in posture, but he needed to see what was going on between Sugar and her price. No need to pretend after that, only hope it wasn't a show of weakness in Danny's eyes.

Long legs pressed the dirt all the way to the window. The lusts swirled up in his blood and flushed his throat with a breath too dense, too sudden, when he saw Sugar's feast. Green eyes caught the little light of this blueing forest as he heard every heartbeat cracking through him. If she looked back, perhaps alerted by the reflection, she would see the truth of his lack. He was hollow, really, thirst and hunger set for the girl who'd become her prize. Reduced to just an image, an expression of desire then. Dion wanted Sugar too. To beg her to let him have some of the meat, as she had said he should, or just a taste of hers. And then, when all his dreams continued to be eaten by all his nightmares, in there, he had to turn away.

He came back to Danny, past him, with an abundance of frustration but none of it threatening to become ballistic toward the two men. He came to stand by the door. "I'll wait." he muttered and swallowed, turned away from the four other eyes. His bones were withering and his muscles were strained to jump. Good thing rich boys can stand well in their sleep. None of Phaedra's playfulness, or Poppy's understanding here.

Just the blood and the girls, one thin barrier away. He thought he could smell them, seeping through the door. Danny could see sinew strung over jutting muscle on his jaw.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on February 01, 2017, 05:29:05 am
Sugar was slurping, tugging at the tendons she’d hooked her teeth into and pressing her tongue hard against the twitching muscle. The girl was moaning softly, delirious and dying, nerves frantic and breath shallow. Sugar liked it when the blood was hot; better to take it when it was pulsing from their veins and bathing their flesh. She lifted her face in time to catch Dion’s shadow across the window and his hungry eyes on her prize. She smiled for him, slick pink teeth and autumn eyes.

Danny watched the boy’s back, his eager slipping around the edges of his ego to afford a more honest image. There was Deerest, then, that had begun skulking around and asking for treats. High society boy with a lowbrow hobby. That kind of thing was artistic in movies and kind of sad in life. Danny stayed put. Sugar would probably offer to share. He didn’t have to give himself up that way. Danny wondered if it was because he was starving or because he had no self-control or both. He almost wanted to say something. People died in this spiral if they didn’t find their own brand of control.

Dion came back to them when he seemed to have had enough of Sugar’s antics. If Danny had to guess, she’d probably just found her way into the girl’s belly, hunting for the darker lobes that fanned beneath her bony cage. Sugar would devour a heart if it was given to her, but she’d rarely bothered to pluck them herself. Something about the finality of it had never struck her fancy, though she was content to leave the poor offerings to die drowning in their own fluids.

As if on cue, she appeared at the door. Bloody mess on her stark white face. “Hey, Deer, I’m feeling charitable. You’ll find sharing is more fun, in the long run.” Sugar said. It was true. Silly kids with their backseat erotica, like they knew raw intimacy because they enjoyed the sweat. It was nothing against the primal communion of bodies over another, devouring dance that never required contact to be thrilling. “I’m assuming what I’ve got in that room is better than anything you’ll be getting today. Are you in the mood to try making a better first impression?” she asked. Somehow she must have seen herself as being quite kind, giving him that sort of chance. Self-made queen with the brand of her subjects in half moon stitches.

Sugar was holding out her hand, dark and dripping. “There’s plenty left inside.”


Poppy sat in the empty summer house, cradled in a bay window overlooking the lake. It was on the outskirts of town, equidistant from the city and their posh, forested suburbs. An old purchase, before their father had picked up a real beach house out on the coast. This place had been Dion’s and her favorite for some years now. Nobody officially used the place, though they still paid to have it maintained. A childhood haunt turned adolescent refuge, more than a few of their school’s parties had been hosted on their dock. It was quiet now.

Dion’s luggage was on the floor. She’d been sure he would have been staying there, but she’d also been sure he’d be there when she showed up. He was not, and it concerned her more than she cared to admit. Her green eyes were steady, peering out the window. A breathless afternoon drawing on a chill evening. He ought to be back soon enough.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on February 02, 2017, 07:15:20 am
Dion was still holding on to the smile she'd given him through the old glass. Standing by the door now, he was stuck at the pleasant expression she'd worn. Lovely little snow thing with automatic jaws and filling aura. When there was muted ruckus his posture steeled and his hands fled into the jacket again. She had too much power over him in there, he had to collect his wits. But his spine made out of doubt, locked into all the old defenses, followed the roll of a sigh when Sugar showed herself and much of the eaten girl's ghost escaped around him. It smelt like all the abandons, and speckled the skin on his cheeks with breathed kisses.

He didn't have the hard face he'd prepared when her hand offered him his inherent addiction in the only ink he could accept. Not for cost to his self, as he'd come to build it with products in his hair and frowns at the less fortunate, but for a temporary halt of his loud posturing. He thought that he should linger on the offer but his hands had already climbed out of their pockets, and the jacket with fine lining slid off his violin arms. Like an urchin taking the invitation of a noble into a warm restaurant, he held some deeply engraved doubt first, and then a shrill relief with quivering hope when he wet his palm on hers.

If she took him to the woman, who had mostly gone, he would be unbelieving at first. His hand wound closer around hers. He was not the angry senior herding new meat to discover their teeth or the entitled son of a titan beside her in her dealer's car. He stayed behind her, thinking of how he'd been up all of the summer night when he discovered the pleasure of giving girls flowers. When Poppy woke the morning would unwrap her under his gifts. Wild stems and their colored crowns, kind, furry wonders all over her nightgown and her collarbones. The dying girl's wrist looked like that, and reminded him of the roses he plucked only once and ornamented Poppy's thighs with. She'd bled peeling them off and he'd been devastated, but if the twins were honest, then was when his tastes had started. He still had the bandages he'd salvaged from her room.

Of course, the massacre that held garden on Sugar's girl resembled more of Phaedra, when she'd let him ornament her with fiery, dense carnations and saffron threads from the kitchen, their chef's stash, where her mother worked. He looked fast at Sugar, this was her winding feast, and then back at the breathing food. Soon his hand would let her be, and all that ink, so he could put a knee close to the girl. "I..." he started, looking up at Sugar, and all the evidence she was his upper classman here. Even though he was asking for permission or guidance in some way, his hand that she'd warmed moved by itself without his supervision, lining a crater Sugar had dug with her teeth. "Sugar." he asked. May I? Should we? There was no sister or dear friend to forgive him, this time.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on February 06, 2017, 02:51:48 am
Sugar was his white rabbit, bloody paws tugging him toward wonderland. Her firebrand eyes were trained acutely in the quivering shifts in his expression. Not such a prince then, much more a deer, and she liked him a bit better for it. There was potential to devour the pride in him, the ego he had hung so eagerly from his jacket when he’d first approached the car. She threaded her fingers between his. “You aren’t hopeless after all, are you?” she laughed. Sugar could be naïve that way, playing easily into the facades that pleased her. Her snapping vitriol upon realizing she’d been deceived had been her saving grace, of course, sharpening the white teeth in her white face enough to retain her royalty in this world.

Still, if Dion was trying a new deception, it appealed deeply to her delight in possession. She could entertain this breathlessly eager sapling, long limbed pretty asking for permission in the syllables of her name. Sugar was rummaging in the tiny closet, cramped by the edge of the bed. The girl displayed on its stained covers was dead beyond the fragile and wispy exhales that were growing fewer and farther between.

Sugar stood straight and turned back to him with an old toolbox in hand. “I’m a nice girl, once you get to know me. I’ve never had a problem with sharing. It’s better when we’re all friends, you know. Or something like that.” She set the toolbox on the bed. “You have your fun. You can use what you need to get to the hard parts.” Sugar said practically.

She moved to take a seat on the free side of the bed. “I don’t like them when they’re like this. I’ll take a small break.” Sugar told him. Until she’s dead. She sucked lightly at the tip of her thumb. Her expression said she was there, too, for the show. Whatever this Deer had to offer. Sugar hooked one ankle over the other and gestured toward the mess that was a girl with an encouraging wave. “Don’t hesitate. We both know you’re hungrier than that.”
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on February 06, 2017, 07:47:40 pm
He smiled emptily, the way the hungry do, when Sugar allowed him his freedom with this flesh. The rattling box she presented was so crude, but it was not out of place on this scene. He was somewhere primal, using the tools of the natives for the novelty of it. As though he had spoken his reluctance, he shook it away and dipped two fingers into the ditch in the girl’s arm. Plenty of sap there. He could feel sporadic heartbeats in that pool and lifted his fingers back to his mouth. How wonderfully real the iron made it all. He laid a digit deeper, caressing the jagged bottom of that babbling wound and then tasted again, raking nails over his tongue.

He stared at Sugar, who’d said he was hungrier than this, hands on the girl for support as he lowered his head. How could Sugar not like them like this, exhausted in their wait to pass. He was succumbing now, irreparably, to the loveliness or her wilt. So the green in his eyes that was always loosing tried to fight the darkness here, also, as he focused on the rabbit, as he started lapping from the human bowl. It was intimate to look at her while tasting. Pallid, hungry woman, queen of this locker, who’d said he was not hopeless. Those eyes rolled as he lifted to stare at the ripples in the puddle of the generous arm he’d drank from. Awe at how much power it infused him with. Diamonds in his belly. So he forgot Sugar for a stark moment and kissed the gash deeper, making the dying girl react ever so slightly. It was her way of screaming and thrashing, but she’d never have that kind of strength again.

But something he used to believe in pulled him up again, whipped him tall, automatic, and he panted at the ceiling, throat pumping rings up and down for Sugar to see. It was some kind of wrong, wasn’t it? Not for the girl’s life – he was not invested in her survival – but wasn’t it a sin for him to have all that he could want? Such pleasures were reserved for the end of one’s time. But as he tried to tame the concept in his burning mind, his hand lifted without him knowing or seeing, gathering the girl’s hair and tilting her head back. Sugar had already made a hole in her neck, and when his hand offered it by lifting her to him, Dion looked down. He was on his knees and dropped further, quietly humming every time he bit into the chewed outskirts of the gape Sugar had kissed into existence.

Such small bites. A careful, curious eater. His face stayed longer to her cheek every time. And then, as her breaths were rare like bridges between fathers and sons, he was simply holding her by her temples, keeping his nose to hers. Planning a courtship of her lips with his, whether it involve teeth or just tongue. Sampling made him hungry, but there were too many flowers on this girl. He couldn’t think beyond Poppy, always her ghost in these things. In a telling motion he laid her head back and turned her face away so he could sit down and lift her wrist, sucking a digit before freeing it with a crunch, holding it her palm with both of his as though he was having bread. Before he swallowed he took the thumb too, and pulled it free in both directions. Such loud undoing of the bones.

If Sugar meant to know Dion, perhaps she would celebrate this layered performance of hesitations, but if she’d hope to be overwhelmed by mayhem, she would surely go home disappointed. He found part of himself in the girl, scent of metals, and wondered if he could allow himself this addiction, if it was rooted in the girls he loved. As the shards of her hard bits cut him on their way down, he touched his lips and breathed as though he was sparing a candle in front of him. Blood on his every beautiful. A Deer that ate another. He searched this new tainted Eden for Sugar, and saw her eventually on the other side of the willingly dying girl.

“I can’t. Help me.” But there was too much will in his eyes for this to be it. He’d only made love to this leaving body, when he should just consume it. What he really wanted was some mercy, that she either throw him out of this soaking garden or lodge him deeper into its flora. His first time in this freedom. He didn’t know to listen to himself screaming. He’d not washed his sister from his desires yet. He needed to be more than this. Whatever Sugar responded, however she led him, might shape the kind of carnivore he would become. She could be selfish about it, and make him a spectacle in her name, or she could nurture whatever she saw. He licked his never clean lips like he was parched but his was drenched. Or she could ignore him for the satisfaction of it, and revel in his disintegration. He was essentially an ungrateful thing, for all she knew. Couldn't it be grand to fan him and see him flare? Wouldn't it be glorious to see him spent? “Sugar.” Hurry, or I’ll expire.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on February 07, 2017, 04:37:40 am
She watched him press into the girl like it was his first time, halting as if the restraint were purposeful. Young buck without a clue, flirting with ego and no substance. Sugar could appreciate this contrast with the cocky boy who’d played at knowing her. He took digits while the dying one suffered and it made Sugar’s tongue slick. An awful sight, really, gut-wrenchingly wrong to watch children feast on one another. She shivered because it was wonderful. Sugar was happy to hold his stare, eager to see him break first. It was a given he would, because Sugar had nothing to break for.

When he asked for health she laughed at him. “Don’t say that. You don’t want help, right?” she said, though she sat forward to bring her pale moon face near. “You want permission.” She told him with that wide bloody smile, reaching to thumb the round of his lip and steal a taste there. He’d taken as much from her on the paper of her cigarette.

Sugar sat back again. “Which is weird for you Deerest, probably. Forceful by design until you get what you want and now,” she paused, syllables hanging like strands of pink saliva between her teeth. Touched her cheek. “If it makes you feel better you can ask me to share as many times as you like.” She laughed. The ocher flares were bright and hungry. Not for the body there, wasting faster than Dionysus, but for the character she hoped he had. She didn’t like his kind, which meant she could love it. “And make love to her bones with your tongue and suffer for it, or whatever.” Flippant, but she meant it.

She curled her legs beneath her and sat onto her knees. Folded her hands onto her lap like she was about to say something very good and proper. “Deerest, you have what you want. Take it or leave and give up. It’s not worth wasting on you if you can’t enjoy every inch of your guilt.” She reached to pull the girl’s shirt up high and dug her fingers against the torn flesh of her belly. “You’re better this way, aren’t you?” she asked and leaned to press her lips to a drying gash. It was an invitation to continue his exploration, a wolf entreating a deer to taste his own prettiness.


Phaedra was quiet with her back to the wall, a dusting cloth held to her chest like a rosary. On the other side of the doorframe, Dion’s parents spoke in hushed tones. Worry for their son and quiet sympathy for their daughter. “It runs in your side of the family. Don’t cry like that, you knew it might come.” the Mister was saying. Soft sobs.

“Our darling girl is so strong, so good. It must be hard on her to keep it all in… and to watch Dion go off and do such a thing…” the Missus was sniffling. There was a butcher who’d left town very suddenly, though this and other dazzling families had kept him employed for rare cuts for years. Phaedra pressed her palm over her lips to hold back a gasp. “That man was barbaric, bringing him that---that… oh, our baby boy.” The Missus was beside herself. Phaedra was silent in her getaway.

She fled to Dion’s room, under the pretense of tidying and with the intention of looking for evidence contrary to his parents’ distress. When she closed the door behind her, she found her heart was racing. Poppy hadn’t mentioned anything, so it mustn’t be true. But then, no matter how dear the friend, what a thing to confess. Phaedra wrenched the cloth between her hands. “Dion, Poppy, you’d never be like Them, would you?” she breathed to the stale air of his abandoned bedroom. It hadn’t been all too long since he’d left but she felt, with her soft heart, that she hadn’t seen his dark fern eyes in ages.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on February 07, 2017, 07:06:18 pm
It was distressful, beyond the task of having morsels that were seasoned with life running through as it left, to be laid bare by her collection of paper bright features. A flick on his heart as she confessed for him, and left him none of the reward of self-discovery, but a lot of the release of realization. The green trails in his night time eyes shifted. Permission. Perhaps he wanted her to take the burden and let him roam free, throwing his desires around without accountability. Nothing on his tally if he acted through her. He tried to be stoic when she smeared another truth from his lips. What an animal she was at this distance.

It seemed so easy when she mused about it, this act. He dreamed a handful of things about the girl’s bones when Sugar mentioned them. All he wanted. But he’d been told he shouldn’t. He had damned and crushed other children for this inclination. And still, he’d paid the butcher handsomely to bring him scarps, unholy. So he nodded without knowing when she said she was available to share. A hand to hold. A comfort, but the deed had to be his. It was better than being so happy it would ruin the rest of his life.

He woke from the trance, and saw the room for its flaws and disarray around her when she sat. She could see the stiffness take his spine and sternum. Deer. Phaedra sat like that, sometimes, when she had silver to polish, and the siblings were on the floor already, calling for her attention as a friend. But memories like that, along with much of who he thought he was, came off him like angst on Friday when Sugar exposed the girl, undressed her abdomen, which had already been pampered with teeth. There were many parts of the boy monster that was drawn in by Sugar, sitting pale, offering a willing, fading thing, by rolling its shirt up. He was on his hands also, coming low to lap the edges on the other side of the lovely hole.

He licked carefully, and studied what Sugar did opposite him. She didn’t have a hitch in her motions, and he adapted. Better this way. He nodded, so long after she’d asked the question. A quick moan into an enjoying huff before he ate deeper, head brushing Sugar’s temple. His hunger brought him over the expanse of the carnage, to Sugars bank of the lake. He nuzzled her cheek carefully, to see if he could have some of the places she was taking from, as though all of this girl wasn’t Sugar’s already. It was so simple, if he watched the pale wolf eat.

He flicked his tongue quizzically on the corner of her mouth, crowding her with his searching head, nose to her cheekbone so he could try and hook the tip of his tongue inside her cheek. He was a bit more confident about the ordeal now. She had lent him as much. Spoiled Deer, after all, budding to be a bull with serrated antlers. All the while, he had to reconcile the image of his girls at home when they wore flowers, since he couldn’t escape that mirage here.

He kissed Sugar’s cheek a little harder, with forward force, to have her move so he could try exactly where she was chewing. It wasn’t unusual feeding behavior in a four-legged world. His heart was falling further into this, now. He could never have been anything other than what he was becoming.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on February 09, 2017, 03:47:53 am
Sugar shifted to give him space at her banquet, but left their space intimate. It would have been difficult not to. A shared filth, then. She did not shy from his touch, welcomed it at first, and ate deeper, reaching to push with her fingers and seek the lobes of that iron-rich organ blossoming. She’d been nibbling there just before she’d gone to find her novice playmate.

She let him taste the stains on her lips, ocher eyes observing. The girl must have felt he overstepped his bounds, pressing to close to her self-assigned royalty, when he drew to take what she’d pushed between her own teeth. Her slick fingers were out of the growing cavern and hooked around his jaw, needle digits digging against his chin. “Say please, next time.” She said, low. But she gave him what she’d been chewing at anyway, kissed his mouth so that they shared it, and then pressed to take a taste from his tongue. It was hungry, but not the way he might have been accustomed to. Blushing girls and their downcast eyes. Sugar was not that sort of creature. But he'd not come into that old trailer to be her lover, either. If it had not been for the obvious limitations of her physique, she might well have tried to devour him whole. For now, an exchange because he’d tasted her mixed with this unfortunate girl. She kissed him like she was entitled, moving to take small bites and kissing him again. Food for a pup. Then she pushed his face away.

Sugar sat up then, suddenly uninterested in the great wealth left in that husk. “Have the rest, if you like. I’ll stay until you’re done, in case you lose your spine again.” She said. “And, I suppose, you shouldn’t be left alone for the first time.” First time you kill someone. As if she was absolved because it would be his teeth on that girl when she rattled her last. “It’s alright if you cry, after.” That wolfish smile again. He could taste her again, if he cried. An even exchange if she could drink his tears. It was marvelous, in a way, that she should expect him to find that desirable. But then, they were here. One vice to wind a bit tighter. Sugar reached to touch the back of his neck, pushing him to continue eating.

She wanted to watch him blossom into shame or depravity, self-loathing or abandon. Sometimes it was chaotic, sometimes it was restrained to the point of art. “Honestly, if it’s a good enough show, I don’t mind making you my pet for a while. I can show you where everything good is.” She was sighing, stretching, and lounging back. The tools rattled in their box. In the city late at night, dreams spun on liquor and drenched in sweat and blood. An offer hung out on a sharp hook, if he wanted it. “I’ll introduce you to my friends so you can stop lying about knowing me.”

If he was a wise boy, he’d understand he wasn’t special and that her offer came with a tangled web. Which was to say he might lose his life and love the fall if he did not find his own footing on the way. Sugar for the flies. He'd do well to make himself a spider. If he was not a wise boy, he might have supposed she was being kind.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on February 09, 2017, 06:37:08 pm
She scolded him for the intrusion, keeping his chin in place and teaching him the magic word. He’d not meant anything by it, it was just the moment, beckoning him to explore every impulse. Meat from the girl was different from the pieces Sugar had picked. He nodded because she was giving him rules of their kind. Gratefully he kissed her back and received the bites that had more of her tongue than blood on them. A different nuance, and he tried it enthusiastically, eyes disappeared into the new thing, until he swallowed and continued on the girl below. When Sugar came back with her lips and more pieces she’d chosen for him, he kissed her deeper. The contact and petal communion was part of it. At a point, he caught Sugar’s head to bring her back.

He didn’t think long on her sudden bore with the two or three heartbeats left on the mattress. During dinner with candles and frocks running around holding silver trays he’d be more concerned when the interest of others waned, living well also hurts the person, but he was too ensnared in the freedoms here to consider her elitism, if that was what she was expressing. He was back on the girl without pause, invested in his own side of the abdominal lake now that Sugar wasn’t on the other bank anymore. As he took more, Sugar filled his head with thoughts of death, his own first murder. It felt so distance, and far inferior in impact to any of the tastes available here. Cry. How absurd.

He wondered what the function of Sugar’s pet was as he licked his mouth slowly, turning to start rolling the top higher, until a supported breast saw the lack of light in this saturated place. He loved both the idea of impressing Sugar and being allowed a pathway to her underworld. So he looked Sugar in the eye as he lifted the round flesh out of its lacy cup. This particular girl had not lied with the stuffing of her frames, said the full orb pressed up awkwardly by the supporting lingerie. He kept on Sugar’s gaze as he descended, stabbing hot teeth into still hot skin. The girl took another breath, counting down. The texture was delicious. He was not new to trying this, but he had never broken through before. A moan hummed through the tit at his satisfaction, and the approval flaring in his eyes might look akin to anger to Sugar.

He was inspired in his chest and it fanned out from his lungs to his shoulders. A familiar voracity. After that he didn’t know Sugar anymore, but looked at the girl. It was his own expression, that he’d only share with the prettiest of the witless debutantes of his circles. A bit of aggression underneath, a bed, he was always a little angry, but also envy – you lucky girl – with the appropriate narcissism, all with a heavy tint of affection and urgency. His passion was like this when he sat on her legs and took her hair to force her face into a good, close position. More of the stag, ruminating off the girls lips until her teeth were naked.

He was filled with soft parts, and wanted resistance for his teeth. He took up her hand, the side where Sugar saw, and held it as his other set of fingers flicked the girl’s chin to tip it. His clasp of pearl weapons around her throat, and he shook a little, putting strength into his jaw until that tunnel broke. He squeezed the hand harder as he hollowed her out. At the end, when his ears were filled with the march of crackling cartilage, she was breathing. He sighed through the beautifully tough mouthful and nuzzled her gratefully. With his temple resting on the tip of her chin, something predatory finally at peace with the creature it so frantically hunted, he looked at Sugar again, grinding the last helping on his tongue. His hand was still in hers.

In way he was asking to be graded, judged, but he wasn’t very worried for rejection, because he had been honest, eating like this. He felt as though he revealed more than he’d intended, a bit like Sugar had coaxed him into this before he was ready, even if it was his destiny. But it was a fleeting offense, diluted to nothing in the catharsis. “I think our next date should be in the city, then. Your friends will be happy to see me.” Blueblood again, wearing a ruby crown around his mouth.

He would make his way over to her were she laid eventually, encasing her legs in his and his arms a bit like he had the now dead girl. "You're prettier than I thought." he said and tugged at her short hair. Pink from being so white, and his fingerprint so crimson. He was fed now, drunk on the chemicals that their kind derived from humanity, so he wasn't part of the reich where Sugar ruled, anymore, unless he wanted to safeguard passage soon again. He always held these things loosely. "I'd introduce you to my friends too, but I think we'd both be ashamed, then." he examined her strangeness, her composition. Coldly odd, her look. Something wrong. She was icy exotic. Freak. "You'd probably take it as a compliment, their rejection." he mused, his blood pumping fairy tales all over his life. Ever after everywhere. "If you're in to that kind of thing, I'll make a few calls, have someone come over and wash you, put you in real clothes."

Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on February 10, 2017, 05:04:07 pm
She had hopes for tinder that were snuffed readily, and she frowned with some measure of disappointment before growing bored. She liked the ones who balked at the loss of humanity, theirs and their meal’s. It was a non-trivial event, taking a life. The quiet traumas made the sweetest desperations later, and that was the garden Sugar cared to cultivate. This Deer playing Stag, angry and proud because he was born to be, was annoying at best. She was not a farsighted girl, a scavenger more than stalker. She’d been weary of Dion in the car and she was weary of him now. She might be less so tomorrow, but that wasn’t for today’s Sugar to care about. A solipsistic creature in her white vanities.

He was pretty to watch with his cold heat; tempered seething and offense. Sugar was disinclined to delight in it. “Scraps for the vultures.” She said. “But vultures are fine in their ways.” She shrugged. “You are less interesting than I had hoped.” She said. It was not a lie, but it wasn’t true either. The honey eyes rolled. “No.” she said, and rubbed a scab of the girl’s blood with her fingernail, flicking it between her lips. “Dates are for equals and we’re not.” She said and laughed. Greedy girl who’d not gotten her way. But such was the gamble with sharing. It had been good enough. It was fine for Dion to place himself on the upper hand of that proposed comparative. Dull boy without any attachment to life, plucking up that poor corpse there. He was crude and in her debt, by her estimation.

Sugar cackled. “Should I be flattered?” she asked. She was gourmet. That body, white and etched, cared for other senses before the eyes. She would have happily been grotesque. He prattled on, stacking up a cheap kingdom on the threshold of her underworld. “Don’t worry, Deer, special boy all your life. I’m no masochist and your world is dry as shit.” She told him. She rummaged in her pocket to locate another cigarette and drew a lighter to it. Lounging, like this was a post-coital smoke alongside her mangled mess of a lover.

Danny appeared in the doorway moments later. It was likely he’d followed them back into the RV to wait, what with his timing. Sugar smiled at him. Sweeter for an old friend. “You pick such nice presents, Dan.” She said. Danny nodded.

“Glad you enjoyed it. I’ll count on you to continue directing business our way.” He said. Theirs was a quiet symbiosis. Sugar never agreed to advertisement and Danny never paid, but the girl was happy to drag new friends into his den. He glanced at Dion. “Lucky day, I guess.” He said, though his tone implied typical behavior. To Sugar again: “You want a ride back to town?” he asked. She nodded and extracted herself from Dion’s arms.

“Yes, please.” She said. Danny jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. Max was probably waiting in the car already. Sugar kissed Danny’s cheek on her way by and left without further ceremony. Danny was still in the doorway, watching Dion when they heard the old car pull away outside.

“I’ve got your bucket in the kitchen.” He said. “I’ll have your other purchase here tomorrow. Max can pick you up from where you met us today.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Sugar doesn’t seem to like you much. Which, I guess, means you made an okay first impression.” He said, shrugging. “But that probably also means you don’t care, right?” he chuckled. “Dumbass kids.” He went back out to leave Dion alone until he chose to follow and receive his purchases. He did not offer Dionysus any means of transportation out of the woods, but he’d been a tagalong from the start.

It was, then, a dubious fortune that Dion’s phone would begin to ring. Poppy on the line. “Where are you? I know you’re staying at the lake house and I’ve been waiting for over an hour. What are you doing?”     
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on February 10, 2017, 10:08:52 pm
Underneath the cover of red girl his mouth hardened in tandem with the swelling of the angles of his jaw. The tilt of his head for her suggestion he was not as interesting as he let on hit him like ivory hall insults, and so he treated it as such, with a slow blink and an invisible shrug. It was worse to say he was not at her level, though as much should be clear, here, but he'd already clad himself in boardroom armor. "It is dry and shitty." he admitted. And he wanted back, at least he wanted the choice. It goes: stand, fall, climb, fly.

He was hypnotized by her cigarette again. She'd already seen the trick, him stealing the one she'd kissed in the car, so he wouldn't get this one. Her comfortable disposition did leave some kind of familiarity open, even if her poise was somewhat final, too. It was awakening to feel her leave once Danny came. Dion stood, also. The blood was becoming cold on his face and arms. It had not been a mess, considering he'd not meant to spare the shirt that had only a few streaks.

Dion nodded to the dealer and the continued business. He still wanted the vodka and the organs. "I'm no one to like, very much." he said on the way. "Not yet. I'm sure we'll grow on each other. And you and I, too." He smiled at the bucket, and took it by its handle. A bottle of water washed the girl away from his skin. The phone was a good excuse to leave without whatever small talk or silence Danny liked.

Holding her glowing picture in his bloody hands shook him, and he pressed the laughing sister fast against his cheek, shouldering the door to get out, bucket swinging. He didn't want her voice in here.

"I had to get some food." he said and sat the container down so he could get his jacket back on. "You shouldn't have come." he scolded her. Automatically his legs took him the way the car had come and gone. The reception was exceptional out here. Not even human animals could hide from satellites. "But it's good to hear you." he said, sweeter for his beautiful sister. She'd traversed the ivory with him, drank from crystal glasses when all they wanted was to run through the parking lot of shining cars until they could stomp the grass. "I miss you. I miss Phae. It's hard to sleep." he sighed as he looked at the road. "Will you stay until I come? I want a kiss." Was it selfish to want her clean lips on a cheek that had been the scene of death itself? He licked his teeth.

"Will you stay the night?" he asked as he walked no sidewalk toward a bus stop he'd spotted on the way here. He had old but beautiful sheets. There were an abundance of rooms.

The bucket sloshed and he was so tense about it spilling, the tension made his bones hurt. As though taking the buss wasn't mortifying enough. Dad had technically given him the pretty, vintage ride in the lake-house garage. Two wheels could be a good facade for the kind of life he lead now, in the ruins of his old riches. To wear rags as though intentional. He thought about the cost of fuel as he walked toward the home he'd taken for his own.

Sugar, the forever grinning girl, Danny the dealer - they were all stars, specks of extinction in the beyond of the vault of his head when Poppy was the close summer sky. But he had to remember them a little more when the bucket knocked on the door as he worked the lock open. He'd seen lights.

"Poppy?" he asked the house when the door opened slower than it should, for the price his father had paid. Not all the zeroes in all the accounts can grease hinges, and this place was Dion's because it was forgotten. He didn't shed his jacket, and turned quickly into the kitchen to put the bucket into the admittedly full fridge. He'd been here for a while, after all.

He turned his collar up to keep his jacket closer. She mustn't see the blood. But he needed her now. "I'm home." he declared and sighed with such relief it almost hurt. If she was here he could have a semblance of peace.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on February 13, 2017, 04:41:34 am
Poppy sighed into the phone, bodily static, and did not answer at first. “You shouldn’t have come, he says, and then will you stay the night?” she mused. Teasing, but not benign. For her, he had ripped their family apart with his heedless teeth. “Mom and Dad won’t like it. It’s a school night, you know.” They shared their grade but not their class. “I can tell them I’m staying with Vera, I suppose.” She sighed again, like she was trying to write him into some overly pressed schedule. Poppy had always been like that, though. Like she took her job as the older sibling seriously. Or, rather, she did when it suited her. They had always been twins when she was afraid of being scolded; she was eldest when it made her exemplary. Perhaps it was endearing.

“I’ll wait until you get back, at least. Then we’ll see if I’m really headed to Vera’s or not.” Poppy suggested. As if she needed the upper hand in this. He must be lonely. She would have been. Poppy wasn’t cruel. She said nothing of the kiss he’d requested.

They had traversed the budding of their adolescence together, when kisses had become something secretive rather than sweet. The pretense of experimentation was potent, though innocent at its core. She had become chaste about it in the following years, distributing the taste of her lips on his cheeks and his forehead with adequately feigned reluctance. It was not so surprising that she had been ashamed rather than thrilled when they’d learned their second bloody blossom some short months ago.

She was sitting in the great room, lit by the amber glow of an antique lamp their mother had been smitten with many summers ago. Toes curled and knees high, a book propped on her lectern thighs, and a slow upward glance when she heard her name. “It’s about time.” She said, because it would have taken a good deal of time for him to walk from the woods and find sufficient public transportation to this place. That was, after all, a good part of this particular property’s charm. “You took forever. I would have just gone to Vera’s if I’d known you were going to crawl the whole way.” She said, unfolding herself as she folded the book with a snap.

Poppy was very good at being annoyed with Dion, as a sister is wont to do, but she often went on with her grievances while bestowing affections and it all added up to a lot of silly talk. Phaedra had said that it was a comfortable sound, Poppy’s complaining in the house.

The house was much quieter with Dion gone.

She crossed the room to meet him, reaching to fix some imagined insult in his hair before wrapping her arms around him tightly. “I wish you’d just come home.” She said, and she sounded sad. That was brief of course. “Just think about the rest of us for once, you selfish brat,” she muttered. It wasn’t scathing like Sugar’s use of the word. It was just confused and disappointed. “Is it really that hard to behave?” she asked, as if she didn’t know quite well herself.   
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on February 13, 2017, 07:54:36 pm
Poppy had access to the real boy, who'd not grown all that much. Mostly he had taken to culturing his defenses, and made them pristine. A blacksmith for armor. Mother and father nurtured this too. So he was left to be whoever he wanted to be on the inside, as long as he kept his back straight and his words level when his hair was combed. He wasn't sure he could be like this if he tried with Poppy.

"Thanks." he had said about her offer to lie so she could be there when he arrived. Little brother that wouldn't even pretend to take back his request. There was a little breath of relief at the end. Nothing of Sugar’s vile noble to be heard. Vera was a good enough alibi, anyway. When Poppy was high and mighty, Dion liked to remember he didn't always behave as he should, and carry the appropriate amount of shame for it. There was no reward for pretending with her. “Don’t go. I’ll be there soon.” He promised. If his voice was somber it was to petition for her sympathy, just slightly, underneath the staleness, and not at all to say she was annoying for not doing as she was told, as would be his sentiment to almost anyone else.

She was herself in the gold glow inside the onyx and sapphire dust of this hour. This abandoned place could be home then, if she sat there. It was unnatural for him to be without her, even if they’d been fostered to be more independent than their birthday suggested. Growing up holding hands does create a certain kinship. He kept his eyes on her when her fingers tamed whatever wild had settled into his hair. Ruffled  boy come home to his satin sister. Was she looking at his antlers?

He shook his chin just a little when she mentioned Vera again. But I would have crawled to get here with you. “Sorry.” But he felt no such thing. He was happy to hear her complaints. His sensitive indoors lily, never happy. With shoulders low and foot closer to hers, his face took on some light when she wanted him back to the house he’d left. Mostly he was just ecstatic to hug her back, with a breath of ragged solace. She didn’t smell like anything but herself, and he could probably persist on that for months. Because he couldn’t go back. That bridge was ashes and the ashes were taken away by the water. The brat smiled with his head to hers.

“I am behaving.” Out in the open, just as they’d been taught. It was only in secret that he allowed himself to be an animal. First as the general of boys, and then as the regret of girls. There was also the night of their awakening. “But that’s not going to be enough anymore.” Her body pressed the crusted blood of his shirt into his chest. He wanted to keep the proof of his indiscretion from her. Suddenly he held on harder, recalling his gluttony today. That girl had been a pretty, alive before his hunger. In his quest to vilify he absolved Sugar. What would Poppy say? And what would she think if she knew her own image, sugared by petals, had been courting the edges of his bloodied vision? He touched his forehead to her shoulder, which required his head to drop quite a bit. Eyes to the side, where he could see the column of her throat.

“How have you been? How’s Phae?” he asked the skin on her neck. He wasn’t getting that kiss, yet, and he thought it was for the better, despite his greed. He did give her one, right there on her pulse, and thought his lips stuck to her when he meant for them to retreat quickly. Wiser than he had been in the RV, he let her go. If she thought it was cold, he couldn’t help it. Better be cold than too heated now. His stomach was still singing gratefully, soothing the nerves that had been complaining. There was only indulgence left, since hunger was dulled. “You shouldn’t have come.” Again, but there was no invitation for her to leave in the sentiment. He touched the collar of his jacket. “I need to change.” How many families had lost their sons to the kind apathy he relied on now? Men are so fragile.

He was expected to be vain, and lived mostly out of the room the family knew as his, upstairs, where the wardrobe had its own door. If she followed, and he hoped she would, that door would be closed, the rest of the room available to entertain, as he stared at the mirror in his privacy. A red map of his adventure over the svelte torso. He would have to cry about her later, when Poppy couldn’t hear. He threw on a black t-shirt, rolled its sleeves, and came back out with softer pants on, bare feet. His secret written in macabre was rumpled and shoved into the bottom of the basket that Phae was not here to take care of. He’d even buried it in two clean shirts for good measure. The girl soaking into his chest and ribs, and her scent, should be hidden under the black fabric and the detergent he’d found yesterday.

He came out a little brighter, but there was leather lining his lungs, still, because he didn’t like keeping things from sister. “Are you hungry?” If she was there with him at all, and not being a lovely image, still reading, downstairs. If not, then he would go down and seek her out with the same question. He was an alright cook, but at least Poppy could scold him over what he was doing wrong. And then there was the meal he’d purchased. Wouldn’t it be wonderfully bonding to eat vodka and organs from each others hands? What freedoms his mind took today. Or are we going to dance our nighttime waltz, until it is time to sleep? They could be eerie, going through the routines of ending a day, brushing their teeth in tandem and spitting like a viper in a mirror. He had already decided to sleep in the same room as her, even if that meant being banished to the floor. He wasn’t sure how often she would stay at Vera for him, better make the most of it. This also allowed him to make sure she wouldn’t look through his fridge during the night or in the morning, and find the bucket, or decide to do some laundry.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on February 15, 2017, 02:06:04 am
Poppy was fussy because she could be, sighing at the things he said and shaking her head. “I’ve been alright. Phaedra misses you, I can tell.” She said. Phae loved the twins dearly, being an only child herself. If Poppy had to speculate, Dion was likely her favorite. But Poppy often contrived the romantic interests of girls near to her brother. Phaedra was special, but no exception. If she had witnessed Sugar today, it might be curious to know what she would have seen in those interactions. Fanciful stories, generally used to tease.

“You’re probably right. I shouldn’t have come.” She agreed. “But, you’re my spoiled baby brother.” Poppy explained. She let him go when he mentioned a change of clothes and nodded to agree with that too. “You do.” She said. “Seriously, did you walk home?” she asked, wrinkling her nose at a sweaty stench that was not as foul as she hoped to make it seem. They were clean adolescents, as they’d been raised to be.

She trailed after him, up the stairs on her bare feet, pushing her toes into the thick carpet. “Phae would be completely beside herself if she saw this place,” Poppy remarked, glancing over the stair rail at the clutter in the living room. Dion was not living in a particularly slovenly manner, but Phaedra had been cleaning after them since she was old enough to pick up their toys. In some sense, it was a bit sad that Poppy spoke about her tidiness like it was tied to her personality, rather than her job. But Poppy had been raised rich and Phaedra really was a tidy girl. “She still cleans your room every day. Not a speck of dust.” Poppy told him. “I think she should get a boyfriend.”

Poppy did not try to follow him beyond the door, reclining in a plush chair set by the window. The reflection of the moon on the lake was a gold coin from the second story view. She spoke to him through the door while he changed. “Caspian was asking about you the other day. He says you’ve been acting a little strange these days.” She said. Her boyfriend, a well-liked guy in Dion’s class, and one of his old group. He had not woken to the maddening desire and continued on with his antagonizing without reproach. The son of a stock market trader with good fortune. Poppy leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

It wasn’t as if she couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know. But Poppy pretended for herself, so she’d pretend for her brother too. She smiled at him, quaint, when he emerged in more relaxed threads. “I am,” she confessed, and patted her flat stomach. “I haven’t eaten since lunch.” Regrettable, by the tone of it. Poppy stood to head back for the kitchen, passing him by. Sweet obliviousness to his red-tinted daydreams, she made it to the fridge before him, hand on the door. “Do you want help, or are you going to bribe me by doing all the cooking yourself?” she asked.

It was not very late but they’d not turned on too many lights in the house. It felt like the evenings they used to sneak down for midnight snacks. Inevitably, Phae would hear. Her room had been right off the kitchen. They’d make a loud enough clatter so as to seem like they were attempting subtlety and wait for the other girl to emerge. Her snacks had always been a good deal more involved and delicious than the ones they made for themselves. There had been those rare exceptions, of course, and the whole thing had felt a good deal most secretive then. Usually they’d ferret away leftover sweets from dinner, or bags of chips that were impossible to eat quietly. Poppy didn’t hide her nostalgia and went to embrace her brother again. “I really hate that you’re living alone like this.” She admitted.

It had been one of those midnight trips that had brought upon this great fissure in their family, if she took the time to think about it. A broken cereal bowl and hushed laughter as they skittered back up to their rooms. Poppy had cut her hand on a shard, they’d realized, before they parted ways. In the bathroom, under harsh white light, she’d sat on the toilet seat and let him tend to her hand. If she’d known of the old bandages he’d stolen she might not have allowed the first aid in the quiet. The small red blossom, and they’d both tasted it. He, from her palm, and she from the corner of his mouth. A thing they’d never spoken of since.     

Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on February 15, 2017, 06:45:53 pm
He followed down behind her, but with hesitation at first. He still had his old footfall, despite living alone, despite the comparably young hour. Trailing in the darkness living between the light in the kitchen and the light left on in his room, he recalled the life he'd emerged from without wanting to leave. He did miss their friend, and shamelessly looked forward to the day Phaedra would come and tidy this place up. Not that he needed it clean, he simply wanted her touch, which was tidiness, here where he lived.

He missed Caspian, too, when she mentioned him. The boy had been of no real interest, a friend somewhere to the side that enjoyed Dion’s casual consideration until he was with Poppy. Dion had made sure to groom him then, to an equally vicious bully of the newcommers. Better they saw eye to eye on such violent matters if Caspian was in a position to tell Poppy.

He lost himself enough to remembering the bloodied rituals throwing applicants into their inevitable tastes he forgot the gravity of reaching the fridge before her. He halted, stiff when he came into the light of the kitchen, and she was about to open everything he wanted to conceal. "I've become a good cook." he answered with a kind of lying smile he'd learned from being reprimanded by faculty for sending new students to the infirmary, and sometimes Caspian's father, the doctor. Teachers and caretakers were eager enough to play dumb on the matter. The Epsilon Hill school needed to have a bloody edge, they all had thought in silence. Dion shifted toward her, but didn't want his motions to trigger hers, so his legs were stiff.

He all but jerked when she moved, but was happy to have her against him, instead of seeing her head in the yellow light, close to the bucket.  There was some of that relief, then, in his sigh as he squeezed her to him. He thought of having bitten off her lips and lapped from her stomach today, together with Sugar. He thought of the old bandages and the way her kiss had electrified his head when she took the blood off the corner of his mouth, that night that lasted forever, forever ago.

“It’s not always going to be like this.” He promised as his arms wound tighter around her back. Him living alone. It wasn’t such a struggle here, with worldly concerns. Mother gave him an allowance in very poorly kept secrecy from father, and any simpleton could make a meal for himself, but he had been lonely, transferring to Sarah Perkins. In this house he was always sitting on the floor trying not to think of iron aromas and salt on his tongue. That soft but insistent, daunting texture. How many massacres had he invented on the tiles they stood on, without orchestrating them at all? How many flower had he bit through to find Poppy’s hipbone, Phae’s thigh? His tongue laid against the lining of his mouth. Everything was swimming, his teeth were drowning, with her chest to his diaphragm.

When he held her so close he thought he could feel the details of her vertebrae on his forearm. So he let go and pushed into her in that motion, so she would fall back, half a pace. He shouldn’t dream like that with her here. Her watchful beauty and her quiet air. Her perfume that billowed out to take him. He couldn’t get used to it or shut that essence out. It always reminded him that she had treasures on the inside. “Hope you like gourmet.” He bragged, brave, and took out a dip, closed the fridge fast, and then her favorite brand of chips from a cupboard. Shrimp. A miracle all on its own that they had it around here. The bag was unopened. He’d been hopeful. If she wanted any of it he’d placed it on the island underneath the light of another lamp, hanging low, that their mother had loved and forgotten too. It looked like an ironic constellation, not food. Hopefully this would buy him enough time to think of brotherly things, leaning back into the opened fridge.

He took some pride in the contents of the cold shelves. He’d picked everything in here. Cold cuts and fresh vegetables to resemble the diet he was used to. His finger slid by the roast beef to hook into the lid of the bucket. The girl, Sugar’s prize, was still making him stronger than he could remember ever feeling, and still he wanted the preserved organs. A quick look over his shoulder to make sure she was not in a revealing angle before he bent the lid open. Dion gasped before pinching the plastic shut. His ravenous heart was singing justified deliberations so he would feed himself those dark things in pink depths right away.

Somewhere between his temples Poppy had cut herself tearing the bag of treats, or fallen off the high chair with a spell of red racing underneath her hairline, or just slipped on the tile and laid unconscious and ready for his flowers. He should not have been so gluttonous today, it seemed he was open to new obsessions, or new depths of old ones. In the end he only took out green things, and the roast beef. Their upbringing had taught him this was what civil people eat. Yesterday he’d only had pear, walnuts and honey. Would his father be proud or disgusted?

“It’s nothing like Phae’s.” he apologized and drew at silver blade and wooden shield. A smile back at Poppy. “But aren’t you impressed that I can live on my own? I’ve had parties, you know, orgies.” She was his first guest and anyone would know it. He’d only brought a girl home once, to mom and dad, and she had kept her dark hair suspiciously like someone else in the family. That particular dalliance had been hopeful, but somewhere Sammy had been overwhelmed by his rough attention and asked him to call when he’d calmed down. “You’re welcome Saturday.” When things are livid here. Or I’m alone, throwing driftwood back into the sea.

Without thinking, he made sure she was elsewhere invested, and plucked the shell of a walnut from the sink. Out of affection he made sure the hard shard was clean before he placed it in on a bed of lettuce and covered it with rye. It was a two-fold deceit, because he barely noticed himself, and could only really understand the implications of it when he placed her plate in front of her. There was a lingonberry twig with its sour, red pearls for  garnish, because they were children of wealth, and he could not imagine serving it any other way. He should have switched their portions, but he sat down on her side, biting into his helping of inferior meat, and said “There’s ice cream, too.”
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on February 16, 2017, 10:51:51 pm
She shrugged against him. “How would you know?” she asked. Because he was falling and falling and she wasn’t sure how to catch him from this distance. Would he sprout wings, indulgent brother, and fly from their nature? She didn’t know if it was possible. Poppy had kept her lips pressed closed to the flavors that called. She didn’t trust confrontations with the truth. She had been raised to cultivate that sort of thinking. It was better to brush things beneath the rug when you could afford very expensive rugs. Dirty thoughts were a test of will, not an invitation to dirty habits.

“Why not just pick up some street drugs and check into rehab,” she murmured. That was a prettier affliction. Modern aristocracy liked those down-to-earth poisons; coy flirtations with the lower class without any fear of punishment. “You’re better than this, I think.” She said. Poppy judged harshly because she loved him. She had expected more from him. Refinement and self-control, all the pedigreed traits that she’d incorporated into her sense of importance. Poppy liked being a proper girl. She liked thinking Dion was a proper boy too.

She retreated with the chips he gave her, a but left him with a sidelong glance that lingered. He wasn’t often rough with her. Pushing her away like that was saddening. She’d say nothing, of course. Poppy didn’t think she wanted to hear any explanation for his behavior. Things were supposed to stay neat and normal between them, regardless of Mom and Dad. She popped a chip into her mouth, crunching hard.

“Phae wanted to come but I thought she’d get into trouble. Appearances and all that.” It wasn’t necessary to tell him. If Poppy was here, certainly Phaedra would have wanted to be. She was quiet then, listening to the sound of his knife against the board. “She’d probably be disappointed that you’re not dying without her.” Poppy laughed softly. “Not really, but you know what I mean.” She twisted on the kitchen bar stool, tossing another chip into her mouth.

“Orgies, oh my, look at you.” She said. “Mom and Dad would be horrified.” She said. Scandalous. It was funny because it wasn’t true. Mom and Dad would probably sigh with relief if their son retreated into more acceptable carnal pleasures. Poppy’s dark moss eyes followed his back. She smiled nicely when he set the dish down for her. “Fancy,” she said. It was, in fact, more proper than most things they’d have fixed for themselves at home. Junk food was a luxury when luxury was standard.

She took a forkful of his offering and plucked a berry with her fingers. It burst against her lips, a red smear, and she wrinkled her nose at the pleasant tart. Poppy took a few more bites before she came upon the shell, buried in the greens, and gasped when the earthy shard scraped hard against her cheek and tongue. A hand to cover her lips as she winced. “Ah, shit.” She announced. “Dion, get me a napkin, would you?” she said, muffled. “There was something sharp in the food. I cut my mouth.” A glaze for the meal, then. When the pain had dulled, which was fast because the wound was not serious, she became aware of the taste of her own iron on her tongue. It was pleasant and salty and she almost thought to dig her canine into the cut.

But Poppy was proper and good. She smiled tightly at him, palm on her cheek as she waited for him to bring her some water and a napkin. Poppy did not suckle at the thin stream of blood nor consider how it might taste, flowing past the corner of her lips to mingle with the dark smear of lingonberry.   

Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on February 17, 2017, 03:07:34 pm
He sucked his own tongue dry when she suggested snow and crystals in the stead of the rubies he craved as though he'd simply switch like from truffles to cake at the Cascade. He would have been vicious to her then, if it had been available to him, the way he was so readily with others. Poppy’s affections were like this. Mother and father’s too. How many times had he felt hurt and been informed other loving hearts had everything to do with it? Poor rich boy, scolded for inappropriate behavior all his life, and still no real struggle. He wasn’t better than anyone and she wouldn’t think so either, if she knew what happened after school.

It was easier to break the garden of their arms because of this, but Poppy turned it into effort again with her sullen. He wasn’t equipped to hurt her. “You can tell her that I am.” Dying. “Hah. Phae.” He said to himself. Perhaps he was indeed, in a way he hadn’t discovered. He forgot about their friend when Poppy approved of the food he’d made. Because she judged so much, her grace was valued higher.

He was eating, quite innocently too, when she murdered the starkly red orb onto the flesh of her mouth. He was already too livid - in his quiet – trying to act as though he’d not betrayed her. She didn’t know the berry was trying to warn her. And then his heart swelled to a stop with her pretty discomfort upon feeling the shrapnel. “I am sorry.” A telling, monotone attempt at acting. He was with her with a napkin soon. “I had walnuts yesterday.” He explained as he dipped the paper past the rim of a clear glass.

The blood was thick and the berry was not wanting to mingle. Two reds, coiling. “Open.” He demanded and stood, hunched to caress her upper lip with the cool texture. It was her lower petal that carried the mayhem. This ruse could only last as long as his unwell restraint. With the light, he saw the cut inside the slick of her cheek, slowly making more mars honey. “Ah, I…” he said, dropping the napkin that fell faster for its heavy, uncolored, soaked head. “It’s bleeding too much.” Said inside a gasp. But any of Poppy’s blood was too much. The truth was on his face then, with his pupils skirting so wide, and a wanting blush raising his cheekbones. He pinched the minimal fountain, thumb on the inside and index on the outside of her cheek. It must hurt more. When he realized he let go, and the cut heaved, bragging about the loveliness inside her, wasteful, generous.

“Too much.” He complained around his thumb, delivering her flavor to him, and it was a confession. When the digit was naked of her blood he drew it out with purpose. This was more than enough. Dear sister, come here to see if he was living well. He shouldn’t subject her to this primal, simple thing he felt. It was the same as resisting a sweet tooth, really. He thought to stop it here. And then a welling thrum of hollow with hot, searing edges afflicted every nerve, starting from just above his stomach and spearing out into the rest of him. A greedy pulse. A reminder that he was famished for more than sustenance. A promise he would not go on without Poppy.

Dion fell forward and held her tempting lip in two of his, and dug the sharp of his tongue into the berry and Poppy’s copper salt. His body pushed into her legs until the chair she sat on moved her back into the island. His hands locked around her wrists, to steady himself, perhaps, or object to her retaliation. The kiss might have been sweet and careful like this, without an embrace. It was not a forceful taste, he just needed enough to be civil again, he told himself. Wretched little brother, a liar and a thief.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on February 19, 2017, 03:16:34 am
When Poppy was small, she’d gone through a domineering phase that had coincided quite perfectly with her reckless phase. During that time, she often got into trouble and pulled Dionysus and Phaedra with her. Poppy was a bright girl though, and it was rare that they ever got into trouble for the same thing twice. For that matter, if there was ever something they were caught for, Poppy made a point of forming rules against it. She would recite such things with closed eyes and a sage expression when Phae or Dion came breathless to ask for those troublesome games.

When Poppy grew older, she became a good deal less reckless and her domineering refined itself into a prim and judgmental smolder that was the delight of the boys that teased her. There was something delicious about seeking out the cross curl on her full lips and the knit of her brow. Caspian had won her over with light antics that appealed to her nature. Not enough to truly upset her, but enough to give her fodder to hiss and spit. He was a gleeful whipping boy. Phaedra, despite remaining very affectionate toward her employer’s daughter, had wizened up to that particular ruse of Poppy’s character when she was quite young and did not play into Poppy’s desired administrations of justice. Instead, she had become a bit of a rudder, unwanted at times, suggesting caution where Poppy’s haughtiness verged on being transparently coy. “You shouldn’t let your tongue get the best of you. I know you like to box people around, but it’ll get you in trouble someday.” Phaedra had said on more than one occasion.

Whether Poppy had internalized that advice or not, she had certainly not made full practice of it. When her brother came to her, she was already simmering. He shouldn’t be so careless. Particularly while living alone like this. What kind of ridiculous stupor would he fall into, lapping at his own wounds and the mesmerizing red. He should be more careful. Rules again, for a game she’d helped start and then cast away when it was convenient for her and troublesome for him.

She did part her lips as instructed, but it had been with the intention of scolding him. Not roughly, of course. He’d tried to make her a nice dinner after all. Those plans were immediately set off course. The damp tissue to her lip, the wrong petal, their shade separated eyes were fine mirrors. “Wha—“ she started, because this dramatization of aid was thin for the both of them. He let the napkin fall and she yelped when he dug his nail into her cut cheek. “Dion!” she breathed, incredulous and holding her hands to her face again when he let go. She swallowed, and tasted her own metal.

“S-stop it, you’re being vulgar.” Poppy insisted, berating when she should not have. Stare on his rounded lips and the thumb clasped between. Her pulse surged. “Dion…” she tried a more warning tone, but he moved. A gasp, her spine tapping against the cold marble edge of the island, and she thought to struggle. He would make her bleed more if she was too insistent, tugging when that soft pink was captured was unwise, and she went stiff when she didn’t know what else to do. “Dionysus,” she muttered, and the sounds brought his own flesh between her teeth. She did not break the skin, but her own rust and the sensation of his lip against her teeth was enough to shake her tightly guarded resolve. Poppy made a sound, frustration for a desire, before she wriggled in his grasp again. How rude of him, knocking at her defenses. How base, to drag her into his mire.

Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on February 19, 2017, 03:13:33 pm
Dionysus was an often target for her smarting pass-time, his heart wide open to her. It was a grand display to see the cruel titan son, who could undo other students and their social worth on a mood, cower visibly when Poppy disapproved. She'd know not to practice the frowns that affected him the most when others saw, perhaps as a mercy, or to preserve the family standing by not airing out Dion's weaknesses, but he'd seen her shake her head in a minimal way across a prattling room, and it always took some power from him. It is always our greatest loves that make our deepest hurts.

Many of those nerves were alive with her protests now, and ran a net over his face to the top of his spine asking him to recoil from her, as he would when she forbade something. But he wasn't only the boy who'd look at Phaedra with some worry as they'd followed Poppy into mischief, back when mischief wasn't murder - he was a boy who'd seen other girls too, and learned himself against them. To this other boy, who liked to play other things, her vague veto tasted like temptations. And the sear left him incapable of obeying her.

Vulgar, she said, but it made him want to do more. He said the word back into their lips. That was what this was, then. Vulgar, before when he killed to eat, but meant to eat for pleasure. And now this, cutting her for an impulse, and trying the resulting trickle because it spoke to his thirsty synapses, vulgar. She did them both a disfavor by saying his full name, like that. This was Poppy's real protests, and they were delectable. He was successful in understanding the dire, but when he let go of the lip he'd cleaned, a reaction that had waited in his bones for his lowered guard sent him forward again, just a little more, so his tongue could draw at the slick of her cheek until it tore gently at the cut.

The tip of the intrusion tried to hold on to the closest corner of the littlest wound when he found sense to pull back. His mouth was small to spread her flavor as he swallowed, and he looked confused but willing when he meant to seem regretful. Dionysus realized he'd taken strength for himself by holding her arms harder, and knew to let go, giving her hands back to her lap. "I don't think I'm good anymore." he said, and realization put more green into his eyes. If either of them waited for shame on his expression it didn't come.

Her taste was subtle compared to the onslaught of flavor he'd rolled in in the RV, but like Poppy, she did a lot in the little. He wanted her closer, this new communication that had yet to suffer a blow of clarity to allow shame in, and took her by the neck, thumb over her throat and fingers pulling at her spine. His body close so her legs were on either side. He was in control over himself, he thought, enough to listen to a real refusal. "Do you think it'll be alright, anyway?" he wanted more of her mouth and that pretty flavor, and he wanted to navigate her jagged phrases for it.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on February 20, 2017, 09:49:27 pm
Poppy was offended, that much was clear, and more so for her obvious disadvantage in physical strength. It is that way with brothers and sisters often, where a sister is forced to accept her stature. But Poppy, as is also common, had kept her sense of authority by learning to leverage psychological barbs where her musculature failed. To have her voice silenced, muffled by his invasive mouth, was too much. When her hands were let free and he stepped back, her expression was incredulous.

She was compelled to agree with his self-assessment. You are not good. Somehow her reasoning was petty, though. She’d been such a good and kind sister, visiting him against their parents’ will. Sympathetic with his cruel temptations and remorseful for losing him in their home. Poppy had expected to be treated well for these reasons and assumed his self-control by her own standard. Those thoughts were also plain in her expression. They were no good protest, though. If she considered them honestly she’d understand that herself. Perhaps that was why she did not look further offended by his lack of shame.

Poppy would have removed herself then, if she’d had the sense to follow Phae’s ever advice and maintain her careful constructs in this space. But Dion was her midnight snack partner in crime, the one that giggled with her about a woman’s absurd hat at one of Mom’s fancy parties, and the one that had been her safety when she’d wanted to learn how to kiss like a grownup. And here they were, too grownup. She did not move from her place, though she rubbed her wrists lightly between her hands to ensure he realized he’d made her uncomfortable.

“You’re being ridiculous,” she began, but the words were halting. If he cared to notice, and surely he’d not miss it, her cheeks were flushed where her freckles splayed. She was not unaffected by the taste of his tongue and her blood, self-righteous indignation aside. “Of course it won’t be okay. You’re cultivating a disgusting habit.” She said, but she’d drawn her face close to his, feeding him the words off her hot breath. “Mom would be beside herself. Dad would disown you completely, if he knew what you were up to out here.” She said.

Poppy swallowed hard. “We were all holding out hope you’d be coming to your senses. Stupid. You’ve got responsibilities to our family. To me.” She said. Don’t leave me to carry the family burdens; it’s selfish. But her lips were around his lower round and she bit hard into that flesh until she tasted his metallic red. “You’re not special, Dion. You’re supposed to suffer politely just like me and anyone else with half a brain and this… this… illness.” She said, and it was appropriately rude and bitter for her mood. She clasped his lip between her teeth again and bit harder. She was making her rules again; against the games she couldn’t have for herself. Cruel girl, loving him that way like she was a good big sister.

Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on February 21, 2017, 07:27:04 pm
Dion looked at her as though she might strike him when she tended to her wrists, as though she was some kind of physical adversary, righting her cuffs before she ran her knuckles into his cheekbone. It would have worried him more to see her sitting there, seething with the lips he’d tried without permission, if her judgment hadn’t been burned gently from underneath her freckles. On any day Poppy was irresistible to anyone, especially the brother that loved her, but like this, her usual sharp charm with a new, rosier hue, her pretty was devastating. His hand on her neck played her skin a little deeper when she came close with the harsh words that spilled on him with secret warmth.

The pain was clear, teeth always daunting on skin, and she mixed the exaltation with her lecture. His heart didn’t know what it was hammering for, anymore, guilt or incredible want. One of his eyes closed, leaving the other alone to reflect both of hers, which made his a richer green. She wouldn’t give him comfort and pardon him with a song, but her actions were inviting to another delight, and he moved in close as he bled, tilting his head to let her have more. The more she had of him, the more like him she would be. He wanted to please her, and listen as he used to. They could play in their large house, and hide away in secret rooms, but he wouldn’t be stealing her dolls and putting his teeth on them, anymore. There was enough keeping him from that idyll that it wanted to remind him. He closer his last eye, then, so she wouldn’t push that dream on him anymore. He took refuge in her taste, hand bringing her further into his kiss, so they could both have each other. Violence, trying to eat her without engaging his teeth. He’d never loved anyone if this was what love felt like, famine and parch.

“I can’t.” he said, looking at her finally, a mess of her red and his around the words, and on his chin. His lids were sleepy, or ready, or sad, at half their height. “I wouldn’t leave you if I had a choice.” His mouth felt empty, speaking. He could be tasting more of her. He let her go with the hand that had brought her in, and started to fuss with her hair, trying to put it back into place as though he could save her from him if she looked proper with their blood on her face. He continued to melt out of the bites she’d given him. The essence she’d drawn wanted to her. He wiped with his arm twice to no avail. “Father was so angry. I’m not his son anymore.” He said as he slid both his hands into her hair instead, undoing whatever peace he’d given it. “I think this illness is taking everything away from me.” He took another peck from the corner of her lips, and it made him let go of her hair so he could have her flavor again, deeply while his hands made ruckus behind her.

He’d not known what he was looking for until he grasped the blade of the knife. It was serrated and his palm screamed up his arm for him to let go when he squeezed it. He took her wrist again, so she could take the handle, coated in him now, the temperature of his heart. And then he let the kiss break with a gasp, but he kept close to her, the weapon between them. He wasn’t done with her deliciousness. “I’m not the brother who doesn’t listen to you, Poppy.” He tried. Always on trial before her. “I still have good in me.” He spoke against a dimple that hadn’t woken on her yet. “You can cut it out, the goodness, you can stop me.” She’d not do it, he knew, but with her fire, she might still damage or threaten him enough that he’d come back to composure.

That hypothesis of goodness faded, selfishly leaving the choice in her hands as he let her have the wet knife. “I’ll suffer politely.” He echoed. “But I need your help.” A hopeful martyr, practicing a horrid thing. Because he loved her in all the ways he could think of, he wanted her close, and held her legs around him, pulling her off the chair slightly, breathing like he was drowning but not wanting to make a disturbance. Beautiful Poppy. He sought out her neck and raked his teeth there, making lines but not wounds. They’d never played like this before.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on February 24, 2017, 05:39:20 am
Poppy made a strangled sound against his mouth and dug her fingers into his shoulders. He was being very unfair, leaving her alone and chasing these wild desires like he'd be drawn onto a helpless tide. She hated that. Poppy gasped and recoiled when she found him too willing. "You're not helpless." Panting in his red. It slipped along the edges of her lips, wet caress, and she swallowed hard to keep from licking away the slick. She was angry and flushed when she kissed him again. "You can control yourself. You're not some base animal." That hypocritical tongue dug where her teeth had been. There had been that first kiss, when they were smaller, and a startled eager in the aftermath. Poppy's rules had applied shame to them both then. Or so she said. What repentance could she possibly demand from them for this.

She would not be sympathetic. "If I can do it, you can. You left, not me." She protested. "You're being so selfish. So, ridiculously selfish." She said. Poppy squirmed when he found her lips again but it was weak protest and they both knew it. They were not so different. Poppy would not have been as upset if they were. Her palms were against his chest, pushing him away on principle while drinking him in as if she’d been starving.

He pressed the knife handle to her fingers and she felt the warm slick soaking into the wood. She pushed him away for real then, eyes wide because he was saying vile and dangerous things. “What the fuck is your problem?” she demanded, hand trembling with the blade. Like she hadn’t just been ravenous for the taste of his salted carmine. “Do you see what this is doing to you? You’re going to destroy yourself and everyone else close to you with this behavior.” She was trying to be the adult again, and doing a poor job of it. Her vitriol wasn’t scathing, just a hot breath on his ear lobe when he pulled her close again and took his teeth against her throat. She was still clutching the knife.

“Stop!” she shrieked after several pained breaths, pushing with her free hand and throwing herself sideways to be away from him. It was a rather reckless thing to do, because he could let her fall and she would certainly hurt herself and that knife would hurt whatever met it on the way. Poppy or Dion or both. But he wouldn’t, in the same way he had known she’d not cut a damn thing from him. If there had been less risk of her smashing her head or some other gruesome thing, he might have let her tumble. Instead, she was fighting for the sake of hurting his feelings, not to get away.

If she did happen to have misjudged and she did not know this brother the way she was so certain she did, he might let her collapse back onto the barstool and then teeter, even tumble onto the floor. The knife would clatter free and skitter across the hardwood, threatening them both but damaging no one. She would bruise her elbows and lay there in some curious skew, ultimately undamaged but delightfully vulnerable to both their appetites. Even if Poppy was correct and he held her still, the thought of that cascade would cross both their minds and her breath would catch as if he’d drawn them to a precipice from which she saw no clear return.

Poppy’s phone buzzed in her pocket. A call from Phae. She wanted to know how Dion was doing. 
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on February 24, 2017, 04:05:16 pm
She tasted like his conflict, but painted it in other emotions. He’d borrowed her voice when the hunger was manageable. Her judgment had kept him away from everything he wanted when his own reprimand failed. How daunting, to kiss her resolve now, seasoned with her protests and feel it transfer to him but be spent at the same time, like kissing snow. But I am an animal, and animals are ridiculously selfish, Poppy. His eyes would look at her, heavy with a warm curtain, begging her to stop her delicious fighting, so it wouldn’t urge him on so. It was not in her nature to oblige that.

The suggestions of the knife woke her back to a sister he’d known, but that persona wasn’t so strong, swirling with the urges that was in their blood. How prettily she could have snuffed him and all his wrongs, beautiful Poppy with a knife. When he cleaned her lip again, and suckled it gently, always looking deeper for the source inside her cheek, it was to make her quiet, as though she ever would be, so the lovely punishment she sang wouldn’t make him so ravenous he’d consume her. At least he could do this well, eat her words, hoping fervently for a bladed strike from her.

Worse, when she fled to the side, using him. He understood quickly, and took her wrist once more. Her head hung to the side, hair falling too, and his other hand secured her legs around him. He looked down at his sister as his blood made her arm slide from his grip. She was aware of the knife, which made it less likely to hurt her. So stunning, delicate, doll Poppy, serious in a glass cabinet, now tasseled and breathing like they’d danced. He should have pulled her up and put her back on the chair, but he lowered her to the floor and pushed her legs off, anticipating her to fall as awkward and as elegant as only the judgmental can.

He would be on her then, his breath at least, trying to find her inside her undone halo of hair. Nearing her like a wolf asking a lion intimacy. His knees on the floor, and the bloodied prints of his pulsing hand. I am sorry, his cadence said, nose to her cheek when he’d smelt her thicket of hair deeply enough. For pushing my strength when you hate that. But this can’t stop. If she looked at him he would throw away his shirt, because it was too warm here, and because they needed to be natural now that they were animals. His humming wound and the palm that framed it caught her lips to let go, and left half her face so vibrant. Without a kiss this time, he just held his mouth to hers, to flick at her inside cut again, gracing her teeth if she’d let him in. If the crusted dark on his torso was strange to her, he had nothing for that.

Dion made sure to find the knife she was still holding with his side as he laid on her. The further down, the more it’d cut under his ribs. Never fatal, just shallow, but he groaned into tasting her. His other hand, not bloodied, held hers in place to keep the knife steady, so she wouldn’t stop. “I’m losing, Poppy.” He said against her tongue. “I’m not going to keep.” And was alright to indulge in his punishment, maybe until he became anemic, and that would be enough. But the force and weight that he had on her subsided when the phone transferred the alert through her onto him. He had to let go, and hold his own mouth, and look away, and be aghast at himself. For a naked moment he saw through the glory of flavors onto what he was really doing. Slowly he shook his head at a question she’d not asked. He was coming undone inside this red, and Poppy was bewildering him further. He wanted to run away, but he couldn’t be far from her now, not when she smelt like the only thing that could sate him. He was only a shift from trying to taste her again. “Please answer it.” He prayed to the floor so the disheveled sister wouldn’t be directly in his sight, just her hand and her leg. So that I can have time to become human again.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on February 27, 2017, 04:45:47 am
Poppy was trembling, or shaking with some latent bitter, fingers flexing because she wanted to drop the knife that Dion was carving himself on. She didn’t want to be responsible for spilling his blood; wielding an implement like that seemed so much harder to disown than the accident of her teeth. If she’d been in a better place, she might have considered that defaulting one taboo on another was hardly a reasonable way of dissolving her shame, but Poppy was defiant with her pride.

She was returning the pressure of his lips, his tongue, reluctant and forceful in turn, brows furrowed. When he finally sat back, her phone shocking a bit of reality into them both, her chest was tight. Her eyes were very green in that light, something secretive and lush, and it was probably a very self-indulgent sentiment to hunger after her him when he stared back with the same color. She swallowed hard and nodded, sitting up on her elbows in a pretty dishevel.

“Hello?” she asked, licking her lips clean of him as he separated himself from her. Not much, just enough that they could devise an edge of control. Naturally, it was Phaedra’s voice that set the appropriate barriers upright again. Still flimsy, but they’d always tried to be good for her. At least a little bit. Poppy had actually apologized to Phae on occasion, and that said enough in and of itself. On the other end of the line, cars passed in an urban static. “Phae? Where are you?”

“I’m in the city. I was going to visit a friend. You parents gave me the night off since you told them you’d be sleeping away.” She said. She sounded a little muffled, walking somewhere. “Are you with Dion?” she asked.

Poppy looked to her brother, a flicker or guilt lost in her freckles. “Yeah, I’m with him. He’s doing okay. Stubborn, though. I think he just doesn’t want to come home because Dad will scold him.” She said, even tone and faint laughter. Phaedra would worry if she said anything else. “You said ‘was’ like you’re not going to see that friend of yours anymore.” Poppy started, picking at the hem of her shorts. Phaedra laughed.

“Oh, I mean. I guess I still am, but he said to meet him at some party.” She explained. Poppy’s brows shot up. Phaedra had a good number of male friends, or she thought she did, being a sweet and somewhat naïve girl. Still, she’d never been close enough to any of them to meet them out for a soda, let alone head for the city.

“He?” Poppy asked. Phae made a dismissive sound over the line.

“Yes, he’s basically a cousin. His mom helped my mom a lot when she first moved, before she started working for your dad.” Phaedra said. Poppy nodded to herself. That sounded more like Phaedra. “Anyway, he wants me to meet some girl he’s really into. I guess maybe they’re serious or something. He calls her Sugar, which I thought was cute, you know?” Phaedra said. She must have been anticipating a bit of a walk, filling the time like this. Or maybe she was waiting for Poppy to pass the phone off to her brother.

“Sugar?” Poppy asked.

“Yeah, Sugar. I told him it was a cute nickname. He looked at me funny though, like it was actually her name or something. Isn’t that ridiculous?” Phae hummed. Poppy snickered.

“Sugar is kind of lame, even as an endearment.” She agreed. Poppy glanced back at Dion again. “Phae’s going to a party without us, can you believe it?” she asked with a slight smile. Ridiculous sister, pretending this two-minute conversation had stopped all the bleeding. “To meet a girl named Sugar, no less. That sounds scandalous.” Poppy said to her brother, whom she’d never think to call Deerest.   
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on February 27, 2017, 07:43:41 pm
Dion was left to gather his mind over the expanse of freedom not owed him. A little control here, that he’d forged biting his tongue during brunches, a pinch of introspection veering toward self-hatred there, courtesy of every scolding. She was beautiful, laid out on the floor, torso tilted up by her elbow. Flower on a stand, one or two petals threadbare. He should look away but he couldn’t, and with hubris they’d proven to be unfounded he thought he could resist her, ultimately. Hand on the wound the knife had gnawed into existence on the lithe stretch between his hipbone and the ridged skin over his ribs. The knife had bitten him on that palm too, so this was just a matter of bleeding into himself. The other set of fingers reached to touch her lips and the phone at the same time, admiring her. He wanted for her to be occupied like this, but close, forever. That way he could enjoy her but never be in danger of hurting either of them. Annoying little brother.

Phaedra’s nickname felt cool on his fingertips when they filtered the sound from Poppy. He smiled a to himself as he dipped a brave digit into red residue her tongue had not cleaned. Phaedra would save them, somehow. He dropped his head when his sister made light of his reason for not returning, but she would see the smirk before the shadow that the one lamp on the island could not chase away. He supposed he was a bit surprised too, when he gathered that their friend and maid was off on her own adventures involving a male companion, but he didn’t care to examine the entirety of that possessive impulse. Instead he listened to Poppy chat as he leaned onto her lap, his brave finger in his mouth. This was an honest moment, and he should be in for as long as he could.

He thought he heard a name from an eternity ago, but he decided it couldn’t be. That name was a word too. Poppy’s information chased away what he realized now had been dumb hope. He sat up and it whipped his hair to the side, the antlers glowing bright in their dim. “W-what?” he asked and let his side leak as much as it wanted. It wasn’t much in the mood anymore, threaded over with lines of a scab already. “Sugar? Is she sure?” And the atrocity in the forest came back to him. The pale face and its vivid other color. He reached out to relieve her from the phone, staining it, of course.

“Phae?” he asked. “Listen. You mustn’t go.” He said to her. Despite preparing his throat he was locked into his old defenses, and his voice wasn’t friendly, the way he’d always speak to her. She was a friend, another player in their childhood games, not a maid or a maid’s daughter. The way he spoke now, it sounded like she was a leper that had coughed on his lacquered shoes. “Go home, Phaedra.” Yes, a little like his father, after all. It was the worst possible tone. “Go to our house and don’t meet with these people again.”

Despite the sound of it, his posture wasn’t tall, it wasn’t double breasted or bleached or folded in paper. “Where are you?” he demanded, and it seemed the deeper his hunch to get closer to the phone that was already held up tight to him by two speckled and drenched hands, the less love was produced by his voicebox. “Tell me where you are and I’ll send a car for you.” He stood up quickly, and the blood he’d lost, even if it was marginal, sang with its absence in his body, and drew out what little colors he could see. He staggered once as he came to the fridge, staring at Poppy, or fighting her off if she thought he was being rude.

The cold box would open when he tore the handle and listened for his friend on the other line. The bucket made the realest sound he could remember when it landed on the floor by his reckless tug. “I know a Sugar.” He said to Poppy as he bent the lid until the mouth of the container gasped, and the orbs in the rosy vodka swirled to be reveal for what they were. In the fridge’s offensive light they were lewd and distasteful all at once. He heart became sick but his mouth watered. “I got these when I met her.”
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on March 03, 2017, 10:25:22 pm
Poppy rolled her eyes as he made to take her phone and snatched it back. “Phaedra! He sounds jealous of your evening, doesn’t he?” she sighed. “Go have fun, Phae. Text if you drink or anything, we’ll send a car for you then.” She said. Poppy shot Dion a look, like he should be less selfish with this too. “I’ll talk to you later.” Ended the call, slipped the phone back into her pocket, stared at Dion with arms folded across her chest. She might as well have forgotten the taste of him on her tongue or her own red on the corner of his lips. When she climbed her towers of piousness, it was impossible to get Poppy to look back down.

“What’s your deal?” she asked, annoyed. She reached to pull at his shirt, unwilling to let him stumble away from her chastisement. “She’s not your pet or something. Shouldn’t you be happy Phaedra’s out doing something fun? She’s been so down since you left, it’s ridiculous.” Poppy said, grabbing his arm and pulling herself to stand.


Phaedra stopped at the cross street and frowned. It was the correct place – she verified in her messages once more – but Theo was not there and she saw no obvious building in her vicinity for the promised party. From behind her, there was a swell of loud music and a sharp call of her name. Familiar, but still startling when she turned. “Theo!” she said, relieved. She’d generally kept to going out with Poppy and Dion. It was more nerve-wracking than she’d anticipated, venturing into the city on her own like this.

“Phaedra! Quick, come this way.” He said, striding forward to grab her wrist and tug her back in the direction he’d come. She stumbled after, laughing and confused.

“Why the rush?” she asked. Theo glanced over his shoulder.

“I told you, these parties are private. Like, super private. We can’t be seen.” He said. Phaedra nodded at him when his pointed stare seemed to demand it. She understood, sort of. “Now, hurry up. You wanted to talk to somebody in that scene, right? About your boss’ kids?” he reminded her. Phaedra nodded again.

He pulled her down an alley, two buildings back from their designated meeting place, and behind a dumpster. There was a door, unlit, with a latch that should have housed a sizable lock. He knocked twice and a bolt slammed back on the inside. The door cracked open. “Can I help you?” The person inside had not opened the door wide enough to see either of them. Theo stepped closer.

“Yea, it’s just me again, I stepped out a second ago. We’re here to see the Fox Den.”  Theo said. There was a long pause, the sound of thumping electronica pulsing through the small entry. The door slammed shut, but Phae didn’t hear the bolt lock back in place. “Okay, here, put on this.” Theo said, and offered her a mask from his satchel. It was crafted to look like a rabbit, white with empty eyes and delicate ears.

“What is this—“ Phaedra started, but Theo was already setting an owl’s face over his own. He glanced at her and gestured that she should get on with it. He was impatient and anxious in a way she wasn’t used to. Phaedra smiled, apologetic and a little nervous. She put on the mask. Theo took her hand and pulled her inside, bolting the door behind them.

They descended a dimly lit stairwell, the music swelling as they went, and Phaedra was quickly submerged in a throng of dancing bodies. Everyone wore animal masks and red lips, swaying and sweating as they pressed near one another. Phae clung tightly to Theo’s hand as he lead her through the crowd. “She’s the one you want!” he called to her through the noise, pointing when they’d reached a break in the crowd. There were old couches and chairs strewn, and too many bodies occupying them. Some seemed like they were in a stupor, running their hands over whatever skin was nearest, and many looked as if they’d been adorned in saturated dark war paint. If she’d looked a little closer at some of the pairs, who seemed locked in various passions, she would have seen more teeth than love.

Sugar was seated alone, a solitary wraith without a mask, and yet she looked like she could have been birthed from that place. “Cavern, is this the friend you promised me?” She asked, staring at Theo the owl like she’d been expecting him. Theo nodded and pushed Phae toward her lightly.

“Yea, she has some questions about her friends.” He said. Sugar smiled at her.

“Oh? That’s brave. Or do you not know where you are, Bunny Rabbit?” she hummed.


Poppy was, uncharacteristically, unable to form words. Scalding or otherwise, she was at a loss, staring into the bucket with parted lips and her heart racing. “What the fuck is this, Dionysus?” she asked after too long. Poppy blinked at him. She’d not walked far enough into his new world to hunger after these dismembered parts. It was still frightening and repulsive. There was no comparison to what she’d drawn from Dion’s lips. She wouldn’t see it.

“How could you be doing this?” she demanded, and fear for her brother that chased Phaedra’s peril from her mind then. Poppy was blinking fast. Poppy was a flare. She didn’t cry, she burned. But there were tears slipping down her cheeks now. “Dion, what the fuck is this?” she asked again, and took a step back. Like she might run away from him.   
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on March 04, 2017, 12:10:04 pm
He clawed at the air when she took her phone. Even with Phea's life swaying, it was hard to oppose his sister, the momentum of her will. His mouth remained wide and bitten when Poppy sent their friend off to meet the embodiment of their vice. Sugar, who'd let him have her fading prize. He gladly let Poppy hang on when he took her to the evidence. Her disbelief had no impact, but her judgement stung him more than it should through the fear he felt for Phae's sake.

"It's what you think it is." he said and reached for her face. It was always his job to take her tears. But it was his job to keep Pahedra safe, too, though the fuck-up brother. His hands came down and took hers as he turned for the door insted, leaving those pearly lines to glisten on her. The kitchen, the lonely lamp and the forgotten fridge light that had witnessed them, could see them leave a moment he wanted to live in. He'd been weak enough for one day.

"Father's motorcycle." he explained. The city wasn't impossibly far from here, and if the machine started, they could be there faster than any car they'd call for. "Log in on my Locapp. The password's..." he hesitated suddenly, standing still in the hall with her hand clenched in his fingers. It was a breach of trust to have installed it under Phaedra's most used software. She'd been so happy when he brought her the phone when here's cloudn't take picture anymore. He didn't want Poppy to know he was that kind of controlling, possesive friend, who distrusted the other boys that would come an visit their house. "it's bloodonphaeandpoppy." And he didn't want her to know that either. When she did accsess the account, the map would have two red dots. If Poppy was upset about her own mark, she could easilly delete it.

Whether she would follow or not, he threw clothes out of the garage closset after descending the stairs into the room that opened to the driveway. He'd always thought it was romantic to have a spare warderobe here, where they'd huddled together sometimes after a swim. Ragged jeans and a shirt, and leather for the wind. The gloves were father's and so was the helmet. The scarf for his mouth was his own, new. Somehow the white line on the white fabric always frowned when he tied it. When the bike barely complained upon the instiance of the stolen key, he almost let the relief bring along the sobs of frustration that were strung between his cheeks and his heart. It'd be his fault, he was sure of it, if Sugar hurt Phaedra. He let the bike roar for him, instead. When the beam hit the large door it rolled up to let him out.

He would want Poppy with him. It'd be-- unsavory to leave her here with the bucket and let her think all the bad things she could conjur about him. But he'd leave without her also. It would be assymetric of him to think she couldn't be safe on her own when the only monster in it was leaving to meet a dear friend among his kindred.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on March 07, 2017, 11:13:24 pm
Phaedra did not know where she was. She stared at Sugar, through the mask with her red-earth eyes, and her naivety was not lost on the white wolf. Sugar smiled, saccharine. Phae had never seen a girl like her. Predation was in her angles and there was a bladed kind of elegance in what should have been a scrawny form. She hardly looked human, in a way, unsettling and beautiful like an alien world. Sugar let Phaedra’s eyes crawl. This judgement was the kind of thing she’d come to anticipate. “Bunny rabbit, why are you here? What sort of friend has you crawling into a fox den?” she asked. Sugar was not of this place, debauched and writhing underworld that served the city’s Fox King, but she had her usual phantom’s passage. Not quite benign but never an enemy.

“I’m here to ask about a boy named Dionysus and his sister, Poppy. They’re twins, very dear to me, and I want to know if they’ve really fallen into this—“ she stopped then, realizing that anything she said would surely offend. “If they’ve started hanging out in your circles.” She said. Because Theo had said Sugar was in most of these circles. 

Sugar licked her lips, ingesting new secrets as she considered the other girl. This one was pretty, conventionally exotic, and it was obvious regardless of the rabbit grotesque. There had been a time when she’d disliked things like Phaedra. They’d been an insult to her sense of higher self. It didn’t matter too much now, because Phaedra would still be pretty bleeding but Sugar would be a goddess bathing in that life-run. This rabbit was a friend of that brat, the Deer. Deerest. Whatever. Danny was supposed to find that boy a full meal, fresh and crying, for tomorrow. He’d told her to let him know if she happened to stumble back with anyone useful. It hadn’t been a request to fetch, just an offer for disposal of the things that might bore her in the early hours of morning. She wondered if she could make this bunny fit that description.

Probably not. It might be rude, anyway. She disliked Deerest Dionysus for his ego, but she thought there were less vulgar ways to watch it break. Feeding him his friend was too base. “I’ve never heard of a Poppy,” Sugar said at last, which made Phae sigh with some relief. She’d somewhat expected that; Poppy had not sounded concerned on the phone. Still, confirmation was a lifted weight on her shouldered.

“And Dionysus?” she pressed. Sugar let her head fall back over the edge of the old sofa, staring up at the glitter of too many party lights tangling across the ceiling. “He… you know him, don’t you,” Phaedra breathed. Sugar shrugged.

“Maybe. Let’s see. You don’t know where this is, or what this is, but you’re here so you know the sort of thing we like here,” she said. “So then, I have to wonder if you have ideas on how to get your way.” Sugar said, tipping her chin so that she could stare at the rabbit mask again. She patted her thigh softly. An invitation. Theo, who’d been quiet behind Phae, began to protest.

“Sugar, I thought you said you didn’t mind talking to her,” he started. Sugar grimaced at him.

“I’m being nice, Cavern, you must realize. Restrained, even, because she looks so fucking breakable.” Sugar said with an air of practicality. “So, shut up or I won’t listen to you later, when you’re begging me for all those other favors.” She said. Phae glanced at Theo then, confused and worried.

“Theo, you’re part of all this?” she asked meekly. Theo the owl would not meet her gaze. It made him kind of angry to hear her say that. It wasn’t fair that she hadn’t realized it until now. Like he’d know this pale siren and her bloody songs for any other reason.

“Ah, you’re paying attention to the wrong thing, Bunny,” Sugar called back Phaedra’s focus and gestured again at her lap. Phae inhaled sharply. How frightening. But she had to know what sort of mess Dion was getting himself into. Poppy was too calm. There was no way she knew this much. Phaedra needed to know so she could help him. So the three of them could be happy, like before. She stepped timidly toward the couch and sat beside Sugar, who laughed and pulled her quickly into an overly familiar embrace. “Don’t be shy. You’re not a timid girl, if you came this far. You don’t need to be nervous.” Phaedra nodded mutely. “I’ll be nice, because you’re kind of interesting. You and Deer, and this mystery sister of his.” Sugar promised.


Poppy was numb to the things he said, reeling from a reality she’d superficially grasped but thrown to her brother’s childish fantasies. To see the glistening mounds now, slick in their biting broth, was too tangible. There was no romance to it, nothing to be coy about. She wished he’d been satisfied with steeling tastes of her, chaste because she made it so, and pure because it was their childhood explorations and no more. It only partially registered with her that he’d been keeping tabs on Phae and herself for some unknown amount of time, and when it did it was nothing bothersome in the wake of his loathsome bucket and that insidious password.

“How far gone are you, really?” she murmured, staring at Phaedra’s little red circle pulsing on the screen. She didn’t watch him as he shuffled about to find new clothes, staring angrily at the offending vessel on the kitchen floor instead. If there had been any chance of sentience in that dirty white cylinder, she’d have been happy to blame it for her brother sins. He was being strung along by this stupid impulse. Weakness, sitting there, because she was staring at it and she was not hungry for it. If she couldn’t sympathize, how could he be so malleable?

Poppy didn’t follow him when he went for the bike, either. “You better bring her back, Dion. It’s the least you can do, playing in that filthy world.” She called after him. “Send her home.” It would not surprise him later, when he returned and she was gone. The bucket would be put away in the refrigerator and the kitchen left mid meal. The knife would be clean by the sink. She’d have gone to fulfill the sleepover she’d promised their parents, because Poppy was a good girl if she felt like it. If he stepped into the upstairs bath, he’d smell the linger of shampoo and find her clothes discarded on the floor. She, too, had spares in this house. A final slap on the wrist for his behavior, and hers, that she’d have felt the need to wash herself clean of him.

Poppy would spend the rest of her evening waiting to hear that Phae was okay and attempting to chase the taste of her blood and her brother’s from her mouth.   
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on March 08, 2017, 09:47:05 am
So he made white lines through the blue night on his own. He supposed it was better, trusting these wheels by himself. A thick roll of paper crowded his chest inside the leather, his savings until he could shake more out of his privilege, and he hoped it’d be enough. It offended the image he had of himself that Phaedra’s peril couldn’t pull his mind from Poppy’s sweet salts. It kept him company until he had to wake up, paying the toll of the bridge. The man on his new shift still looked like some weathered keeper of the neon spangled towers when he gave silver back for the small bill. He cussed after Dion when the brat on father’s bike took his gloved hand back so the coins could play on the platform. It’s not littering if it’s glittering, someone had said, sometime.

On his way, chasing Phaedra’s red, he took his urgency out on other vehicles. A cab had its window cracked and the driver had not dared argue at the face which splintered in the many times divided reflection. The sadistic signals of traffic became swearing people behind him. He wasn’t reckless because he knew he couldn’t be hurt if he made it to his friend in time. When he did, there could be no secret about which building might host a soiree and a supper, because he didn’t have Phaedra’s naïve. Father’s bike on its side, laid to bed with his jacket to cover it, after he’d armed himself with the family weapon, rolled in his pockets. A shadow with bare arms, swinging the helmet to make way across the street, following the ghost of his maid friend.

There were procedures to these events. He’d been to enough to know. He supposed there was need for additional sifting when the theme was so objectionable to most. He had no plan ready to enter until a boy stumbled out of one of the metal doors, bloodied and masked. He was handsome, throwing the horned likeness of his head to be sick all over his shoes. A dark mass of indulgences on black laces. After a flawless arch, the helmet rung the boy’s temple and Dion dragged him to sleep in safety while the damage to his gray mass marinated into his spine. The deer who’d been so unruly knocked on the door, promising fervently to behave. The behemoth had mercy and stepped aside.

The naked arms shook as venison made its way through gamier courses. Doors with cracks spilled color into the corridor and he glanced little oases inside, where people latched on to willing animals. Some of them were in tandem, and some had teeth in every limb, fighting furiously to stretch their own wounds. He thought it was a warning first - the gasping mice, the clawing men - and then it smelt and felt like prophecy, rather. Without Poppy’s judgment, he wouldn’t mind. Just a dance toward common raptures.

He asked a bear about Sugar, and took his mask. Some of them were afraid and some of them, whom he pulled out of others, strings still connecting gash and gape, were addled enough to gossip. A detective splayed in strobes, looking for someone sweet and white that wouldn’t be. He’d changed into a handful of totems until he wore a badgers nose and eyes, his own jaw visible, smeared for a favor from a rat. And everything he touched in the long ass fucking hangar of a corridor stayed with him, until he was bursting with justification for a life brimming with gluttony. When he came out on the other side, into a living mass or lighter pecks and shyer teeth, the music stirred his ribs to put fire and recklessness to all the things he’d seen and learned. Only worry for Phaedra shackled him now. He wanted to be in these woodlands, too.

The arrogant badger who’d strike you if you didn’t answer, or break your finger mutely inside the song without eating it, also, followed revealing stares and admitting nods. He’d forced his importance on so many by the time he had to topple into an armchair across from his prize. Sugar’s hue would not be mistaken, even in this lake of characters. The lusts that were not as loving as sister’s fine flavors argued in his nerves and he’d fall into following them for the smallest instance, twitches like micro sleep into a freer self, until he remembered the girl who would sometimes tell Poppy to be gentler with him.

A snake slithered her arms around him, and pressed her shoulder into his lips without obscuring his view. How would her muscles complain against his bite and how would her collarbone think to resist before it splintered? Blue hair under the scales, but it was a trick of all the stars in the room. His teeth were clenched tight against the temptation as he waited for strength and watched his beautiful friend on the ivory lap. If he went, would he just be going to open Phaedra up, like her mother did pigeons, or would he ask Sugar’s services? He hissed low at the snake and wrenched her head to the side. She didn’t mind. He tried to concentrate across the busy floor.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on March 12, 2017, 03:29:52 am
Phaedra shuddered under Sugar’s tongue and squeezed her eyes shut tight. The pale girl giggled. “Relax, it’ll be a quick taste. I have remarkable self-control.” Sugar promised, suggesting that this should be a comfort. Phae swallowed hard and nodded, though there was a peculiar dread in her chest that made this feel like she was about to submerge herself in an unretractable filth. Sugar tested the surface of Phae’s skin, teeth indenting the soft flesh of the girl’s neck. Her dark hair fell over her shoulder. She muffled a soft cry by digging into her own lip when Sugar cut her arc. It was a quick flash of pain that flared into a throbbing ache, blood rushing toward the stitch-mark curves the white wraith had carved. Phae had always been quick to bruise, and she’d be a nebula of violet and blue by morning.

Sugar was true to her word, but Phaedra was still quaking by the time the blonde sat back with red-ringed lips and sighed with too much satisfaction. The bow had been peeled into a larger gash, which left Phaedra panting, and the frenzied rush of her circulation was already cooling to a dark magma crust. Phaedra had lived a fairly soft life, all told. Her scrapes had been tended to as quickly as Poppy’s and she’d never been quite as adventurous. Sugar had performed something raw and frightening in this rusty deflowering of her flesh. Phaedra blinked back hot tears.

“You should visit around here more often. You’d be a popular menu item.” Sugar said. A compliment, or a piece of advice. If she was going to go digging up her Deer’s secrets, perhaps it would be best if she made a claim to her heartbeat. She could be a delicacy around here and ensure her continued pulse. Sugar shrugged. “Not that I care. I’ve already gotten a taste.” She said. Before Deerest, too. Would he feel robbed of Bunny’s first taste? Sugar thought it might be a bit tragic if he didn’t. This quivering girl had descended into a hazy purgatory for him, after all.

“Will you tell me now? What do you know about Dion? Is he… Is he hurting people? Is he coming to places like this?” she asked. Sugar snickered. As if Dionysus hadn’t been hurting people before he’d begun eating them.

“Well, I’d say we’ve only met recently and he has an appetite.” Sugar said bluntly. “But that look in your eye says you don’t want to believe me.” She said. Sugar was not looking at Phaedra at all though, as she licked her lips clean. Little shark in bloody waters. Sugar could see the familiar, long-limbed form through the throng of other bodies. He seemed purposeful coming toward them, but there were just so very many distractions. “Too late,” Sugar mumbled. Phaedra was clasping the raw wound on her shoulder. 

“What?” Phaedra asked. Sugar jabbed her chin in the direction of Phaedra’s answer, caught in a sanguine Eden. She gasped audibly when she saw him, squeezing her fingers a little tighter over her wound.

“Don’t worry, he didn’t see. Not that he won’t notice if he makes it over here.” Sugar sighed. Phaedra twitched, as if she didn’t know why Sugar would say such a thing.

“Dion…” Phaedra murmured. Sugar slid out from underneath her.

“I don’t really feel like dealing with your asshole friend right now. But you can tell him I did him a favor since you’re sitting on this couch and not under a horse down the hall.” She suggested. Phaedra was trying to see past the thick of people that had drifted to obscure her view of Dion and his mask. “Either way, go to him or get out of here if you’re not here to play. It’s time for me to take my leave.” Sugar said. She glanced at Theo, who’d been doing his best to remain quiet. He told himself he would have intervened if Sugar had taken more than that little bite. The look Sugar gave him said she knew he was lying to himself.

“You too, right? You’ve got that stupid expression on your face again.” She said. Theo hesitated, glancing at Phae with a great deal of regret before he was at Sugar’s side and ready to slip off into the crowd.

“I’m sorry, Phae. I should have warned you about all of this. Get out of here quick, okay?” he said. Phaedra nodded numbly but hardly looked when Theo stumbled off with the strange white girl. She was too captivated by Dion the predator, who’d come back into view. Her shoulder throbbed. It was an awful moment to find herself so far from him. The Dion she’d grown up with was nothing like Sugar and her wanton teeth. That beast with the snake was a stranger she’d not set out to find.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on March 12, 2017, 02:56:24 pm
There was very little flora in the wasteland of his eyes when they flared at Sugar's little indulgence. The snake, her blue hair, paid for the slight, but the scaly mask did not contain any protests more than what was reflexive. Rude of him, though, to promise like that, and then push into her so she would move away. The snake continued to dance around him as he fit himself like a key through the springs of other bodies becoming part of other bodies. She was lost somewhere behind him when he was finally in front of his dear friend.

The badger wasn't as feral as it should be, not on its surface. But there was something committing violence to his aura from far behind the mask and the cheekbones it covered. Electricity out of tune with the music. A suit distorting his nude arms and pulling at his outlines. Her looming obelisk, then, when she was feeling the baseline tug at the edges Sugar had created. He'd acted out his urgency interrogating other beasts and now there was only the other parts of his new persona left. Lips wide apart, saying something around a swelling tongue. Innocent Phaedra, in the middle of this colorful, harmful festival. Hardly a frame that should surround her, but it fit like rust around wild, young flowers.

Offense in his fingers when the long arm came from her above to examine her hand, the tourniquet. "Phaedra." and he was that woodland thing, then, one of its illusive lords, whispering her name lower than speech, but louder than the shocking violins running through their diaphragms and stirring the shells of their ears. You don't belong here, was his intention, but if he said it, he was afraid she'd listen. Phaedra usually listened. "Why did you come?" but it was of such little consequence the music didn't let it cross them in its entirety. Still, she would know the question if she was curious what his lacquered lips communicated.

At first the lengthy deity with neon halo lifted her protective hand thinking he was taking this sweet rodent and her mar back to the city outside. The hero he'd come here to be, the Samaritan Poppy requested. But with Phaedra's prints radiating skeletal from Sugar's mark he saw a truth in himself, the way he'd had to confront it all of today. There was some color left somewhere in the aftermath of drying, well-meaning cells, enough for his fingertip to draw a stark and then fading smile to her mirror shoulder. He applied pressure once his nails had reached the other side, and it was as soundly as an unspoken request should be. He wanted her too, the way this place carried his spirit and its vices.

"Offer it to me, Phaedra." and if he was her friend in their flower speckled memories, with his blood sister, he was a bane to her now, but one that expected her to be deeply to her own detriment. On his knees, still loftier than her, his colored teeth revealed themselves politely behind the calla lily petals with rose coat. Here to save her, here to try her. Still waiting for compliance, invitation, he undid the space between his weaponized kiss and the untouched skin. He'd not registered his hold on her wrist, one Poppy would recognize.

If this had been anyone's fault, Dionysus would have said in his current mind that it was his father's and mother's. He had gravity enough because of features in their collective cauldron of noble pretty that he could believably sell death to those that wanted all their years. Spoiled genetically and with voracious mind, he was offering favor to Phae, if she would suspend her protests that weren't sweet until he was satisfied. A villain and her friend.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on March 14, 2017, 02:58:57 am
Phaedra felt her pulse surge as he approached. There had been times in their past when she’d felt a flutter, some curling secret in her belly when the light caught the green in his eyes right. This was not like those times. She wore the flighty heart of her mask, a small beast in tension, and twitched like she might run. But Phaedra couldn’t run from Dion. Even now, when she’d had his bloody secret thrust against her skin, she could not quite untangle the sweet bonds of their youth. If she had warned Poppy often of her brashness, Poppy had warned her as many times of her ingenuousness. Neither girl had taken the other’s good intentions to heart and Phaedra had come looking.

“Dion,” she started, when he was close enough that the curve of the couch was a sanctuary for their voices. The thrumming music around them had created a keenly intimate shell, isolated in the anonymity of animal faces and strobing lights. “I was worried about you. I heard things. I wanted to know it wasn’t true, or if I could help.” Desire in the first sentiment and honesty in the latter. She was a good girl. Even in their foulest moods, Neither Poppy nor Dion had ever had the heart to hurt her. It was too simple. In some ways, that had spoiled her.

She flinched when he moved her hand, but her hopeful stare did not waver. Phaedra waited for him to wear horror or disgust, perhaps gasp like he’d been woken from a dream. Here, a dear friend wounded. Phae received none of that fantasy, even if Dion might have wanted to provide it in some far unraveling segment of his family home self. Instead, he introduced her to a Badge beast with nails and an appetite. Phaedra’s wide stare followed him as he knelt. Dirty prince.

Phae inhaled sharply when he formed the request on his tongue. “What…?” she felt the word tumble from the cliff of her lips, a jagged fall, and shuddered at his pink slicked teeth. Poppy had been their centerpiece always, because Poppy had demanded the attention. In long lashed glances with subtle intentions, Phaedra had quietly wished she too could command Dion’s conscience and felt guilty when it seemed Poppy had tried to preserve her from him. He’d not left her without hope though; whether out of kindness of possessiveness he’d given her enough in incidental contact for her fingers to construe between her thighs.

So Phaedra didn’t know what to think when he asked for her with any measure of desire. It was frightening out of his bloody mouth, but it struck upon that acute longing she’d worn so prettily for so long. “Did you come for me? Is Poppy here?” the little rabbit asked, and it was impossible for her to know what answers she wanted. His breath across her wound set her nerves dancing. Her fingers curled. His grip was tight. “Dionysus, I don’t know what’s going on with you. I don’t understand and it’s scaring me.” She murmured. “Why are you in a place like this?” she was speaking too fast. Dion was proposing a dangerous game for Phaedra, and she was no equipped to find the appropriate way out.

“Does Poppy know? Let me help you.” She said. “I’ll give you whatever you like if we can leave this place. I don’t want to see you make that face.” She said. The rabbit sat in the trap. Phae had always wanted to take care of him. Poppy had told him to be careful with her for that very reason. Their friend had never been as covert about her devotion as she’d hoped. Phaedra would spoil him rotten if he asked sweetly enough. She couldn’t stand to see him wanting. Poppy had told him it was unseemly to use such a noble fault to his advantage. Phaedra was trembling in his grip. “Please talk to me, Dionysus.”       
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on March 14, 2017, 11:13:13 am
He’d not caught her goals over the phone. How could he have with all the fears ringing through his ear to take his heart, then? That harrowing anxiety had been enough to propel the boy who’d dressed her in thorny stems all the way here on a night he’d had Poppy in his arms. She gave clues to them now, her goals, and it was perfectly symmetric to the Phaedra who’d protest in quiet, and come along in earnest when the twins wanted to play out stories that were darker than her sensibilities. Even in her search, the way she told it, she should have known there was danger here with whatever truth she was hoping to find. It connected him to a somber tune in an inspired passage in the electrica. Phaedra was innocent in herself, and she was projecting. And she was mistaken.

There was still enough beastly momentum in him to want what Sugar had gotten, and the question tasted thick and sweet when he spoke it. Beloved Phaedra who’d flinch but not flee. And her response was flawlessly confused. It started to wake the boy who’d walked behind the feral in him. The boy who’d run shoulder to shoulder with Phae in the grass so he could catch her if his and Poppy’s game’s had her misstep. That boy was happy to have a truth for her, even though he had to speak it with a monster’s teeth and voice. “I rode on the old Triumph all the way for you.” He assured her. “Poppy’s home.” It meant she was safe. She’d not be in mom and dad’s house because of her excuse. “This world is dangerous” with its salty dolce and cartilage morsels, “and I wanted to get between you and it.”

How perfectly saintly, Phae, to have gone for the sake of his soul when she was still too flattered to assume he’d come for her, too.

Her questions like breaths. Prey should not be so assumptive. “Poppy knows some. She doesn’t know everything.” She’d seen the orbs in the vodka and she’d hated it. He was not going to tell her he’d spent another person for his curiosity, today. Perhaps he was already unhinged and there was no hope for their sweet Phaedra. But she was stirring, fanning panic with her own words so he petted her cheek and her mask, leaving small lines of scarlet on both. “Then I won’t make this face anymore.” But his lips were set in the same hunger, even if the tilt of his head drew on reminiscence, like a chimera remembering the life of one of its beasts.

He wondered if they’d ever play again, the three of them, and if all the ditch blossoms in summer colors would just become red roses, then. “I want.” He started, when she offered. Maybe just a little payment for all this herculean restraint. Her downfall was that he loved her. How beautiful and wretched it could be to sample his second sister, the twins treasure. “I want.” And his mask touched hers, but if she thought it’d be a kiss, the way youth kisses inside vibrating chambers of music, she would discover his mouth never pinched. A search for texture, pearly weapons ready in a row if something was caught. She was a whim away from being a maid in a mask forever. Then he gasped. Then he stood up, still with her wrist in his hand.

“Let’s go.” And he was a little mad at their childhood then, for taking this delight from him. He pulled her up with him as though she was being unreasonable for being dear to him. A few tosses of his head tried to locate the pale hostess before he pressed Phaedra into his chest, her spine to his abdomen, and walked them through the other bodies. How possessive, wound around her like that. It brought the attention of a lynx. It wanted to see if it could examine her the way Dion already had, nose to nose. When it pressed close enough to fulfill the meeting, Dionysus pulled Phaedra in closer as his head barreled forward to collide with the forest cat’s. The impact became part of the baseline and the lynx laid in the neon jungle grass. The badger likeness split from Dion’s bleeding brow, and the plastic halves fell away.

If she thought to ask him how he was, there, above her, he might take her thoughts elsewhere when he bent down to press a tightly closed mouth against her neck. His hands climbed and dug into her body. Dion knew better. Dion wasn’t there with her. “Phaedra.” He asked, choking. The building crescendo of the song drew at him harder. A flicker of a friend and an admirer stood strong in the forefront of his self and shoved her away suddenly, even as his teeth clasped in the space she barely vacated. But those pristine men dissolved before she’d been ushered out of arms reach, and he pulled her around, face to him this time. He held a bleeding forehead to her mask as he drank oxygen and expelled deliberations for her sake.

“I am that thing.” He answered himself against her lips. “I don’t want you to save me.” He put her up on his body, and tied her legs around him. A flood of saliva and he barely lifted his chin to swallow it down. This place raised his hunger too healthy. There was a wall on the other side of her and he thought about being lovers instead. His mouth quaked with the need, and he almost believed its ruse when he leaned in. A groan and dark, dry laughter when that affection veered off impact. They slid down and he was only locked teeth and chants, then. “Just forget about Dionysus, Phae.” He said with a sigh, and his body calmed because he’d already promised to sate it. His fingers were sure against her, there in his lap between him and the wall. I’ll give you whatever you like. He pressed himself against her, and easily found Sugar’s mark. A sweet pressure at first, pulse with teeth, beating harder and harder like he was convincing her body to love it. She could think it was the tender kind of love because there was some of that there, too. Between determination to carry her out, and a boiling dream of her pretty slaughter, he cut into Sugar’s traces, and the reward was a reach of Phaedra’s composition across his tongue. It was an intimate gulp, mingling with the scent of her hair, and he wondered dreadfully if it couldn’t be worth the world as he’d built it, if he could just consume her. Already his teeth were unsheathing from the new depths in the print he’d altered. A tenuous compromise his beast would not be content with for long.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on March 16, 2017, 04:09:29 am
Phae was staring into his dark eyes with anticipation that couldn’t possibly satisfied. Tell her it’s all a sick joke, Dion, one that went too far. Nothing has changed and you can come home. Phaedra’s breath was soft. He pulled her up from her seat and she felt him yank her away from that wilting hope. She swallowed hard. “Okay,” she said, though it hadn’t been a suggestion. His chest against her spine should have been a pretty dream, but it wasn’t.

She didn’t know how she was supposed to feel. He defended her, she thought, as they navigated their way through the tide of swaying bodies. But dogs defend their carcasses too. When his mask split, she had the audacity to wonder if it might break this unfamiliar character too. It did not. Instead, when she tipped her head back to see if he was alright, she was forced to acknowledge Dion in the blood.

He seemed to be struggling with the same ghosts then, her name strangled when he’d met her tender throat with his lips. She gasped when he held her. Phaedra could have found a million ways to weave affection into this, but he was quick to push her away. There was a moment when reality struck them both, caught between his teeth where she had been a moment before, and then she was floundering in the neon space again. Phae stared up at him when he reeled her back. “Dion, you’re bleeding,” she murmured. Her presence seemed more painful.

Phaedra had pictured several versions of this act in the privacy of her room, most of them sweet and thoughtful. On a rare occasion she’d dream something more daring, perhaps with the taste of liquor on his tongue and a bassline thrumming through them both. In all those contrived ideals, she’d never broached something like this. It left her sorely unprepared for the truth of his body against hers. She hadn’t had time to understand whether she could want this or not. “But I would do anything for you,” she tried to reiterate, and her suggestion was lewd played in new tones. He rode her octaves higher with his tongue. She hadn’t meant it, but she hadn’t not.

She didn’t know what might happen in a dark room against the wall, where eager adolescents were quick to impact their affections. Phae had been well kept from mot boys her age. Poppy’s fault and Dion’s too. Perhaps the twins had wanted a little sister and molded it in their maid. Their love did her a disservice now. “How can you say something like that?” she asked him, but lost her inquiries against his fingertips. When she moaned, it was simple enough to construe it however he liked. She reached to curl her fingers tightly into the fabric of his sleeves as she bled for him. She was trembling when he pulled his mouth away. “Please, not here,” she asked him, because this place was frightening and made Dion something she did not want to see him as. If they were alone and he wanted her then, she’d not refuse. It was plain on her face, though her quivering was evidence enough that he’d hurt her. As Poppy had always told him, Phaedra could not deny Dionysus anything.

Phae might have though she was being good to him, but it was simply that she had always been an enabler for whatever he wanted. She had the sweet kind of affection that couldn’t turn hard and armored when it needed to be. It was no different now. Poor rabbit; she’d never understand the wolf beyond the eager of his teeth. It might not matter if she loved him. “Don’t come to places like this. I’ll come to you, if this is how it is. You have to be safe. I’ll take care of you.” She said, and reached to touch his bleeding forehead. Perhaps she had forgotten he had come because of her and was bleeding because of her too.   

Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on March 16, 2017, 01:57:55 pm
He cried, somewhere in the parts that loved her when she was so kind in all this red wool, needled through by blue and green and white lights. Perhaps the luminescent show wasn’t the stage, perhaps it was the billowing black underneath. His loyal, dutiful friend, saying things to sweeten herself for his palled without knowing it. He shouldn’t be so hungry, and he couldn’t turn away the way he ought. He’d always try to be a dumb figure in their games, when with Phaedra’s character, because she’d not cause friction for him, at least not until Poppy demanded such. It was now that he understood her adoration was an obstacle, even if he chose to taste it as that of a pure heart, and not one that was directed solely at him. Perhaps they viewed each other the same.

Her salts were different from Poppy’s, but familiar from other shelves in his memories. He was thinking at the flavor, asking it to stop climbing his tongue and visiting his nose, when she wanted away from here. His eyes closed and opened slowly. There was strength left in his body, but his will was ancient, tattered. He wanted her to be alive and well, he wanted craters all over her body. She was afraid, not of him, and she wore it on her face. And it was enough to start his way out. At first he held her, standing up, and then he pulled her along the wall to the corridor that birthed him into this place. Bleeding Dion without a mask, with the pale scar horns cut through with violent red. He looked back at her, and then beyond her at the askew and flickering pillars of colors. What a hellish place. What a banquet.

She’d promised him the histamine of her sacrifice if he’d only bandage his hungry maw and concentrate on her. Her saintliness translated into an uproar in his chemicals, pleading with him to accept. What a sweet affair it would be, and how thoroughly Poppy would condemn him. Did she know what she was offering? It was not just collecting a pile of trauma and hiding it, skirting extinction while building a corset of coagulated visits. It was intimacy too. He wasn’t on some restriction for nutrition. He’d been born addicted, and raised lacking. If she knew what was roused, would she offer tinder and fuel, still? Ah, but Phaedra, though pious and mild, wouldn’t be opposed to that even if she’d blush out of her own skin. She’d paid the price of coming here even though she loathed it, hadn’t she? If only she’d been a throwaway heart, the kind he’d toss with soundly, roughly, and leave for themselves. He was afraid of his own love because he’d not known it well. Perhaps because he’d met other’s often, and treated them like nuisances, fogs. Dion sighed and held her hand tighter, every flicker of a crack in a door playing with her safety from him. He tried to be blind to it all, walking back through the gauntlet of dreams he’d lived. Here I gave violence to a robin, and here I traded my teeth’s favor for a rats gossip.

“You’re too good, Phae.” He called, and they were far enough from the speakers in the main room, Sugar’s room, that his yelling might be unneeded. A scolding, then. The large critter had no qualm with letting the bleeding boy and his rabbit out. Just don’t wear this justified attitude of yours if you expect me to let you in, his look said. Dion looked beyond him, not even realizing his spoiled ways. With a moan and a face, turned away from her, that suggested he might cry like a toddler, he shouldered the door closed. He was one, he supposed, an urchin closing the lid on the aromatic, hearty simmer in a cauldron. Some of the frustration stayed in his voice. “You’re not allowed to save me anymore, Phaedra.” But she’d offered. Even the sordid undercurrent was enough to accept. A maid and a slave. Who knew, maybe he could find escape in her whimpers and gasps.

In the streetlight with his shoulders low, the toil of his restraint showed. There were traces on his arms to tell her what he’d done. There was a crimson delta from his forehead running along either side of his nose. Dion who’d been fueled with someone’s life, and an abundance of meat, and then even Poppy’s tendrils of blood, had the audacity to be almost bent. “I’ll take you.” He wanted it to be an acceptance of her help, but he’d only meant ‘home’. As he went past her, he took her hand. Nobody told him, but he loved puling her around. If she didn’t take the helmet he’d not give up until she did. He kept the scarf for himself and tied it before hanging the jacket on her, as well.

And then, when he was masked and she was armored, he pulled her in and squeezed her tightly. He laughed one short cough, and it had tears. Somehow his sins hadn’t come to take her away. Somehow he’d saved himself from her bad fate. Some of the tears carefully stacked in the green of his eyes above the thin cloth disguise were caught on his cellphone, with his arm around her possessively, so he could send it to his sister, captioned ‘she is safe’. He sighed then, bravado rolling off his posture before lifting the bike with a groan and throwing an endless leg over it. He couldn’t stay awake for the trip to either home. “We’re going to the apartment here.” He said. Just a few blocks away, from when mother thought she liked to buy trinkets from the local stores. Dion and Poppy had always been inlove with the location, but never been ambitious enough in their longing for a grittier city life to spend the night. How forbidden to go with his childhood friend, that every-day kind of forbidden to contrast the fundamental transgressions he’d reluctantly left inside the quavering house. Perhaps the couch and all their forgotten vintage treasures in that place would be fitting, the way they’d lived, today. What would his parents say? What would Poppy? He should have a talk with Sugar, soon.

Dion’s head nodded, and it was an unadvisable state to drive in, with his painted fingers fumbling with the key, other hand drunkenly romancing the clutch, all while the abused horse waited to be ridden right. Still he’d go, and he’d make it if Phae was on his back.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on March 27, 2017, 08:18:47 pm
There are always souls that romance the idea of taming beasts. So many wolves urged to be dogs, so many dogs with too many teeth. Nature’s natural like an insistent heartbeat, it was possible to dream in the pause but the pulse would come. So, Phaedra was neither a novel nor profound heart when she saw the untouchable desires in Dion’s eyes and fabricated a future in which she domesticated his hunger. It was in equal degrees selfish and altruistic, and only because her cultivated naivety allowed it. She was hopeful when he made to lead her from that place.

He called her good like it was an accusation over praise, but Phae took what she wanted from it, eager to find something pretty in this unsightly journey she’d made. She was easily Orpheus’ tragedy in lesser hues, much too quick to look when she should not have. “This place is awful, though.” She said to him. It was not untrue. Phaedra did not know what it was to want awful. “It’s not safe. What if somebody hurts you?” she asked, and she should have paid more mind to that sample carved from her shoulder. If she examined the nature of self-sacrifice a bit more closely, she might have found that it was awful too.

Phaedra held fast when he took her hand. If she had misinterpreted what he said to mean he heard the logic in her plea, it was fine. If he was taking her anywhere, she was sure she could be happy with it. Even if it was to another frightening place where people gnawed with animal faces. She could be a saint for him there and win his affection. Or something like that. Phaedra, the help, had wanted the fairytales far more than Poppy and her silver spoon had. It was not ultimately to her benefit. Phae curled her fingers.

She wasn’t happy when he gave her the helmet, because she was eager to continue with the idea of saving him. This did not fit with that imagery, but the small happiness of being cared for won out along with his insistence and she set the dark globe snuggly over her head, long hair spilling around her neck like some sea creature. The rabbit mask had suited her better, but this had its merits too.

Phae liked it when he embraced her and didn’t understand why it also seemed sad. It wasn’t out of lack of compassion that she was blind to it, but Phae had never had a carnivorous soul. Not understanding made her worry just a little, and she was quick to agree with his plans and remain quiet for the ride. She was even careful not to anticipate the place he was taking her too much, because somehow he was not as delighted she’d come as she had hoped. She wondered if she shouldn’t have come and ignored the fact he’d made as much clear. “I’m sorry,” she offered, when the throaty roll of the engine cut and he killed the headlight. Phaedra hoped he’d accept that as it was. She didn’t really know what it was she thought she should be sorry for. He’d not been happy leaving that place though. He must not have been happy to have her judging it either.

The apartment was quiet when they stomped their presence in; she shed the jacket he’d hung on her like a tired skin. Phae had only been here once before, when Dion’s parents had thought it would be nice to bring her and her mother with them into the city. It was uncomfortable that the place was unchanged. Things on the mantle greeted her just the same. “Can you tell me what’s happening, Dion?” she asked. “You and Poppy… why you left… are you like them now? Are you doing dangerous things?” she was asking questions she wouldn’t understand the answer to. She had them already and hadn’t wanted to see them. “Can’t you stop it? Is there a way to help? I want you to be safe. If you need that kind of thing, can’t you get it from somewhere less…” she let the rest of the thought die in the still air. “That Sugar girl is kind of frightening.”

Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on March 29, 2017, 10:10:20 am
There had only been confusion for her at first, when she outwardly wondered about his safety as they left the unholy wonderland.

He'd wanted this to be something else when he led her to the apartment. Dion didn't really ransack himself for what it meant that he was wishing they were going here for tryst rather than its aftermath. Being alone with Phae like this wasn't that common. Usually Poppy would be in the other room, and her presence transcended walls. Here could have been ideal for resolving dormant adoration, if it hadn't been such a practical escape, instead. At least it was warmer inside. By the time he reached the window to look at the signs that hummed with curling lights on the opposite building, he realised he'd not turned on the illumination. Going back for the switch by the door seemed like an endless journey, and the pay-off worthless with the room already basking in a nighttime cascade, where shadows also got to play.

When he listened to her worries and his aura was extended with what glow it could borrow from red and blue neon, was he still the silhouette of her Dion then? His teeth were clean and smooth with the ever moving film of his excitement at her taste, the one he’d taken over Sugar’s marks. Phaedra and her kindness, the way it affected him, proved he was had not been wise to take her hand and bring her here. What was happening? An upheaval of barking nerves, mouthing her name in the froth. She wouldn’t hear that. If she could make out the sound she’d not listen the way she should. “Didn’t I look like them when I came for you?” he asked and it was not rhetorical. He needed the illusion she had of him, but he was aghast at it too. Surely he was not so distorted in her eyes, innocent with her blood on his breath. It made his heart ache for her.

He moved from the window and went to the bathroom, stringing the air tighter between them with what he put into their silence. The setting among the tile was strangely familiar, and he found his way in the black without trouble, the faucet and then the towel that might never have been changed since its purchase. Wiping away life was as necessary as it was a courtesy. “I think I should apologize to you.” He said, emerging with pearls still on his cheek, that became amethysts and yes, rubies, from the beacons outside. There was a glow to the antlers that mother gave him, with his hair slick from water and back. “because I think I’m those dangerous things, now.” He was sorry, in his voice, because he felt he was betraying Phaedra’s imaginings of him the most.

With his fingertips the temperature that hot water smear has after being carried for a while, he reached for her at a distance that only his arm could bridge. “But Poppy’s innocent. “ she must always be. “I left because I—“ his fingers sought deeper against the surface of her face then. “I’m not welcome anymore.” Boys and their fathers. “And you shouldn’t have to live with me.” Fathers aren’t always completely unreasonable. There was a tinge in his knuckles that electrified the inside of his fingertips. He wanted to have her, wanted to lift her onto the wall and have some intimacy before they slept on the couch or on the floor. But she wasn’t some debutant who’d become addicted to the ruthless under his porcelain. Not someone who’s scorn he’d enjoy when he ignored her the next time he saw her in a dress with her hair so far back it was reflective. She was Phaedra, and he had probably lived all the stages of a boy’s heart through her, from dependent to sordid to whatever badness his current romance was.

“I can’t stop it.” And the laughter that made his throat dry surprised him. Short and weak. He turned away and the hand that climbed her pretty fell. She said all the things he was trying. Poppy had almost wretched at the things in the vodka soup. And that wasn’t even his sins, he’d only bought them. If either of his loves knew he’d left a girl breathless over a dinner date he’d not be their Dionysus anymore. So he had to agree “Sugar is all kinds of frightening, Phae.” And I will seek her out and punish her, somehow. Urgency when his eyes came back to her. Poppy’s green in them was prominent because there no light there, otherwise. “That’s why you’re not allowed to see her again, not for me or anyone.” He said and took her arms and squeezed them hard so she’d know he was quite adamant to make her comply. Phaedra had revealed herself to be someone who’d be foolish for him. “And whatever friend brought you to her. You’re not allowed to see that bastard either.” If she was inclined to those things, she could read the kind of passion that comes with jealousy and possessiveness, then, because he wasn’t sure that would be wrong. “And I’m like her.” Sugar. But not proud, and not strong. “Aren’t you afraid of me, too?” but the lips that had drank the faucet water and her blood said it like it was a request for affection. While still firm, his grip was warmer now, and he hated it. He thought he was connected to everyone, through this urge.

“I could have taken you here to eat your arms” and stick my tongue between the bones of your forearm. He let go and turned. It was harsh after he’d been so willing to be a budding lover with her, just now. “and tossed you out the window into the city container underneath. And missed the rusted edge and laughed.” It stung his nose because he wanted it, to live in such a decadent abandon. He took his shirt off and threw it into the darkness before he started walking for the window, that corner, and sat against the wall. Half his shadows were gaunt by the frame of sanguine light. “I love you, Phaedra.” And he didn’t know the depths of his cruelty for saying that. “But I can’t live in that house anymore, because I don’t think the people I love should live with the animal I am now.” He blinked and everything that had been circling him came in, finally, to make him pay for their suspension. He sighed. “Go to bed, Phae.” And it was a plea for her to listen, even if he wanted to sleep against her. His head was heavy on the wall, and he wondered if his dreams would kill him if they tried to process today with its wealth of flaws and delights.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on March 29, 2017, 11:41:41 pm
Phaedra shook her head urgently, because admitting he had looked frightening would make it real. She was invested in preserving her gentle friend as he had always existed. These new stains and scars could shade but not change him. Otherwise, she’d be forced to meet him as a stranger. Phae could not accept that thought. “No, I knew it was you.” She said. It wasn’t a lie. The badger mask had done nothing for the signature of his limbs or the brand of his shoulders. Dionysus was beyond reproach in that respect. “You took me away from there, so you can’t be like them.” She reasoned. It was a poor exercise of logic. She was a smarter girl than that. The superficial effort was what she wanted right now.

“It’s my fault for going into a place like that.” As if he wouldn’t have gone into that den otherwise. “You’re not dangerous to me.” She added. Phaedra tucked her long hair behind her ears. It was entirely unfair, but neither of them was being tender in truth. She placed the weight of her expectations on him neatly and it was nearly a shame he’d not caved to his carnivorous wants. He was feeding her own delusions and she was requesting he continue to play along. Some small part of her might have realized he’d likely see some comfort in her fantasy too. Phae could not have accurately weighed whether that comfort was enough to make it worthwhile.

He told her Poppy was not a beast and it made her sigh with relief, the way she’d sighed with relief when Sugar had hinted at the same. She felt the same clutch in her chest she’d felt at that time also. Poppy was innocent, but Dion refused to give himself as much. He’d not done more than she could forgive in that bass-pulsing city organ, but that did not say he’d not done more. Phaedra hadn’t seen him in over a month. “It’s your home. You must be welcome.” She tried to reason. “I like it better when you’re there. I like it better when it’s the three of us.” Phaedra hesitated, as if she had only just then recalled she was under his family’s employment before she was his friend. In theory, it was never really the three of them. It was the two of them and Phaedra. She thought she should say something to pretend like she could remember that sort of distance, but it was a thoroughly worn ruse that neither of them needed then. “I still keep your room clean for you.” She said, and it was familiar rather than practical as she let her eyes close and pressed her cheek closer against his palm.

His laughter and the way he gave her his fate like it was unquestionable killed the other hopeful arguments she’d begun preparing. Phaedra stared at him with a long look that felt strange miles rushing up between them. His touch left her cold in its departure. She didn’t like that more than she found his confirmed reality frightening. In some sense, she was protected still. Poppy knew the gut wrenching hunger and the bitter of her own saliva welling when scraped knees and torn lips caught her eye. She knew the stirring monstrosity clawing from the underbelly of their precarious society, enticing and disgusting and threatening to drag her down. It meant Dion’s drift on that tide was acerbic and honest; Poppy could fear for him in a real way. Phaedra, as always, was left reading him through a lens. Her fairytale, in which he was now a cursed prince but a prince still.

She said the sort of thing a heroine might and could get a real girl killed. “I won’t have to see her again if I just know where to find you. I want to be able to make sure you’re doing alright. If you won’t come home.” Her idea of compromise, then. He said she wasn’t allowed to see Theo either. She was bold enough to give him a rueful smile for that. “I’ll stay away from whoever you want. As long as I can still take care of you and Poppy…” she liked that job description. It kept her close. “I’ll never be afraid of you, Dion,” she said.

Phae should have waited. But she had not and she couldn’t eat those words the way Dion said he could eat her slim arms. It didn’t matter. He carved her through to her bones without lifting a finger. Maybe he was a monster, after all. Her lips parted. She’d been about to break her promise. She’d nearly located the appropriate fear of death he offered her, even. But then he cut all the stillness and quiet dark with a breath she’d wanted to hear, imagined hearing, for years. “Love…” she echoed it so softly he might have missed it and the recoiled when he thought to send her away. She didn’t move. Not toward him, not away, she just stood and suspended. Strung on strange ribbons and adolescent hopes that throbbed through her veins with too much force. It would have been a good deal safer for that girl if she’d admitted her passions earlier. She could have been prepared. Like her nighttime conjures had ever really been faceless.

The slide of her thin sweater over her skin was painfully loud in the empty. She didn’t know how incredibly late this offering was, that he’d spent another life already. That he was a glutton if this was temptation. Phaedra would have believed he was starved. The soft fabric hung from her fingertips, goosebumps raised on her bare skin. Soft, grey cotton bra and snug jeans; Phaedra could have been in so many other dreams if she’d known the appeal of her own sweet and fresh. Dreams with less teeth, probably. “I won’t be afraid of you, Dion. We’ve known each other for too long, right?” she started, staring at his shoulder blades outlined through the gloom and faded neon. “Can I keep you out of places like that?” she asked him. That same, terrible offer. More insistent now, because he’d said he loved her. Perhaps she felt the smallest bit entitled. “Can I be enough?” she asked. Like he hadn’t just told her he could eat her and leave her for dead. Phaedra took a step toward him. The dark, coagulated edges of Sugar’s ghost and Dion’s looked black on her skin.     

Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on March 30, 2017, 02:43:15 pm
His ego wanted to swell in tandem when she called him a hero in so many sentiments. Took her away. What else was there to do if not take her away? She would not have had time to be eaten in that quaking place, just the proximity of the collective vices would have melted his sweet Phaedra. If he was any Dionysus, in name only, he could not have let her be there when he found her. And she continued to string together the drifting pieces of him that he’d tried to shatter for her benefit. Poppy pivoted him into any course with direction, and smarting displays. Phaedra built him. Mother and father had chosen and then fostered a perfect complement in their maid’s daughter. Perhaps Poppy could have had one too, if she wasn’t a whole person already. Or he simply hadn’t seen the ways Phae affected his sister.

And so she set the scene of his homecoming so beautifully, calling on the memories that he persisted of on his time away. How naïve that he’d always have a place in a house that was home. In his head he scolded her for it, and that taste helped him keep her drawn-up idyll at bay from his heart. He had to be a cynic to protect himself from the romanticism she lured him with. He almost cried, though, the same as he almost had when he closed the door to the club, when she told him she’d kept attending to his bedchamber, that was smaller than Poppy’s but still an often haunt for the trio. Phaedra’s smarting was effective because it never meant to leave a mark.

But even Phae knew to negotiate, it seemed. She said the conditions like they were necessities for her continued breathing. Wouldn’t he talk to her if she stayed away from Sugar? It was fair, and he couldn’t remember any reason why he should not, in that moment forgetting his own inclinations toward marking people with his teeth. “You’ll know then. And I’ll come to you.” The way I came for you tonight. He could believe it. But she might forget that little compromise when she heard his admittance to loving her. He’d not meant it like that, not when he’d said it. When she repeated the word he realized it had ricocheted. It was too potent. He’d spoken to a candle with a hurricane voice. It broke his heart but not completely. He’d always loved Phaedra.

He was frightened, looking at her from where he’d retreated, when she lifted her top. By no means was he confident he’d recovered from his urges, but he thought they were sleeping. And she was standing there, equivalent to filling her lungs as though to call them rudely out of their rest. Protests clogged in his airway, even though lips had parted valiantly to deliver a refusal when her skin took on the shadows and the blushing hum from outside. Her surface looked soft, like it wouldn’t hinder his teeth at all. And he was that other kind of hungry, too, that all boys are, the starvation they inherited from their fathers. Valiance became vengeance on his mouth, and love folded noble petals behind his teeth, to silence that clever, but soon cunning set them free. “What can you offer that would be enough?” he asked, and it was the kind of thing he’d say to rich girls, who asked him to dark rooms when the ball was down the corridor. That kind of tone was not for his Phae. An apology in the large of his eyes, but as he stood from his hiding place, where the walls converged, there was no gentle in his gait. “I mean,” and his voice was contradictory in its softness, telling her to run, still. “ you mustn’t. Do you even know what you’re saying?” Drunk on your kind heart as always.

But it might just be coy, it should have looked it, him hesitating like that, and coming closer with the confidence of a walking collection of fangs. He’d never doubted Phaedra was beautiful underneath the sometimes uniform and her simple clothes, but he’d thought it was irrelevant. Before his throbbing famish he also had the kind of affection that forbade him from treating her badly. And he always treated them badly.

Good little wounds on her. Even her blood dried in the most delicate fashion, ornamental. The lining swelling couldn’t be seen here. Twin crowns of fingers lifted to catch her face in that net of digits as he bent down. He felt sullen for her chances. Even the boy she’d grown up with and worn flowers for, might not have the tenderness to give her the adoration she deserved. And still, all the blood in all the chambers of his heart tried to hold him back from himself, from her. When his head was low enough, the first kiss was the kind of ginger she should have. If he meant to give her space after that, and push her out of his own reach, she’d not feel it. He kissed her violently soon even if it was over fast. His mouth had come down as though to take bits out of her, but there had only been lips.

“Are you going to spend yourself until you’re all gone?” That would work, he thought desperately. Her syrup that wouldn’t stick to his teeth. And then, when he made a final mistake and her veins wouldn’t run anymore, he’d be crushed into apathy, his sobriety a monument to her sacrifice. His disappointment tinder and Poppy’s words a spark. His mortification a cliff and their memories strength to his legs. He never considered that tasting her like this with nowhere near the weight behind his emotions as she harbored could have been worse to her young heart than her own murder.

When he finally shoved her back it wasn’t out of mercy, or to let her escape, not the way his head tilted to consider her, like she was the next layer he’d leave behind. Perhaps it wasn’t a kindness to funnel one vice into another, equally primal. I can wring you here, and fold you in to place like so, and then you’re left to moan or protest while I try your untouched slickness around my insistence. Assumptive Dion, who could kill a girl, but still believed completely Phae was new for him. He pushed into her, elegant like only practiced beasts can, chest and all. “I apologize to you, but I don’t feel the least bit sorry.” And all that confusion was in the next cruel kiss, with his arms as her chains. Spoiled noble – who was never read anything at bedtime but his triumph - crashing into his greatest ally now, ready to spend her quickly. How dearly she must mistake this for passion. How wrong he was to believe it was not.

With insult he broke them to breathe before he twisted his head back to her, and dented the skin of her neck with the white weapons that had already tasted her tonight. He gargled but couldn’t bring his jaws to close. The hunger had just been underneath all that want, shallow. With trembles that could land his limbs in any course of action, he rested his nose to her cheekbone and swallowed over his soaked tongue as he drowned in her scent. Like her pillow that he’d slept on when all three had played too hard and too late. “I told you.” He said through a tightly assembled, enamel fence. “Go to bed. You don’t want to be my tourniquet, and I don’t want to be quelled.” So he didn’t know why one of his hands was fast down her abdomen, and two fingers bit around the hole in her denim to dislodge the button. “Go to bed, Phae.” He said with demeaning authority, but still found a home for his touch between her cotton and the flier outside. His body wanted something for sparing hers, and he thought in his struggle to leave her pulse alone that it should be tense finality before wrenching revel.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on April 01, 2017, 03:39:56 am
Sugar recoiled, his slick fingers reaching for her in shades she thought might make her wretch. “The fuck do you think you’re doing?” she demanded. Theo looked lost, eyes half wild and half asleep. Panic through his stupor. He shook his head.

“I’m sorry, I just… I got ahead of myself and I—“ She slapped him, a swift and evenly dealt sting across his cheek. There was definitive judgement between her tightly pressed fingers.

“Keep your hands out of your fucking pants.” She snarled. “Get out. Go away. I’ll tell the Fox King to serve me your skin the next time he sees you crawl through his doors.” Sugar was livid in her own battle paint, smears of red and leaking holes in her skin. Theo had lost a whole finger and begged her to take the hand if only he could use the other to dig fresh gashes in her thigh. He’d been so appropriately desperate for a glance at her innards she’d given him a small reward. In exchange for praying her rosary she’d let him shove his tongue and teeth along the smooth arc of her ribs. In the revel of adrenaline his violence had delivered, she’d not been paying attention to his bloody hand roughing urgently below the waist of his jeans.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it wasn’t allowed. Next time I swear it won’t happen. Never again, I promise.” Theo babbled, blinking hard at her to show he meant it even though he couldn’t quite concentrate.

“Do you listen? There isn’t a next time, dumbass. Get. Out.” Theo was stumbling, and then sobbing a little because he’d tasted mana and been sent to persist on stale crumbs. He clutched his hand as he left. It might have been over the lost digit, but Sugar felt certain it was because he had realized how repulsive he was. “Fucking ask, Pervert.” She muttered as he left.


“Anything you ask,” Phae said, breathy and unaware of the scorn that could twine with questions like that. There was something to her interpretation, the inherent belief that she had enough if he’d just call for it, that was a greater ego than anyone would have applied to her. Phaedra herself would have denied that kind of self-confidence with remarkably believable blushes and saccharine timidity cast up through her lashes. Spell weaver, then, reaching and hoping to pull him into the girlish dream world she inhabited. His love was as she wanted it. His heart, conflicted but ultimately pure. His questions were earnest. There was no doubt in her saintly sweet expression when he came closer. She was a fool, if he’d let her be.

“I know what I’m saying,” Phaedra told him bravely, and it was impossible to tell whether she did or not. She wore his punctures as deeply as she wore Sugar’s, the stuttering scabs lacing her white skin like fine print. But Phaedra was also a slave to good intentions. If she had fully grasped that he might entertain the idea of devouring her whole, leaving nothing but her bones to dress the carpet, she had buried it deeply enough in some romantic notion that he should almost not feel bad. To devise such devilish utopias on the crux of her own suffering must mean she was as sick as he, if under a different affliction.

Her redemption was only that she had always been pure and good in their home, so there was no reason to believe she was not just as pure and good now. “I’ll give you everything,” she told him, the very picture of a tragic maiden as she huffed from his kiss. She shivered and thought to bring herself closer to him still. “I mean, I’ll give you whatever you want. Even if I don’t understand, if it’ll help you, I’ll do it.” She said. So she did understand, at least a little, even if she’d only thought to the point of romantic sacrifice and not to the permanence of being maimed.

Phae gasped and shook her head, more distressed by the thought of him being sorry than the aggressive confidence with which he pressed upon her. She was captured by his lips and did not seem to see that she was snared. More practiced girls might have rebuffed with their own haughtiness, strung the tension tight between them, but Phaedra was the tide of his current only. Her cheeks were flushed when she stared earnestly back at him. “I love you, Dion, I always have.” She said. A cheaply won confession, because she’d been too hasty to hear him.

Poppy had warned him of this before. Warned her too. Little fires, she’d said, of them both. Ready to blaze and burn all their memories and trust down. She always looked a little offended when she told Dion these things. Like she expected him to be better than someone who’d need such a reminder. But Poppy always expected him to be better. She was a glutton for disappointment. Maybe Phaedra was too.

Her eyelids fluttered and she was trying to nod in disoriented obedience when, again, he told her to go. She should listen so that he could change his mind and have her stay. She’d already broken the practical pattern, baring herself to him with high handed offers of a world she could hardly connect with. Phaedra twitched, like she really thought to listen for a moment, and then could not bring herself to move. Foreign, his fingertips playing suggestions she’d only fleetingly considered. Naïve creature. Storybook heart. Phae gasped and trembled. “Dion, do you really want me to go?” she asked meekly.

A bang on the door. “Dion, you’re here, right? Open up.” Poppy. As if she could ever be anything but the center of attention. It was like when they’d been caught with the flowers when they were young. Phaedra had felt guilty without knowing why. “I wanted to check on Phae.” Poppy said, muffled through the door. There was a tightness to her tone that said she was still thinking about the bucket on the kitchen floor. Maybe she didn’t trust him, changing her mind and showing up like this.     
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on April 01, 2017, 06:07:44 pm
He had thrown all the filtered vile - far less than the spoiled mouth could utter to creatures less dear to him - and impactful orders with the hopes that he would become distasteful to her. He was too used to this with his sister. She'd take the words and turn then on him. He wouldn't have to say much for her to have all the weapons she needed. He loved Poppy and how she'd impose her version of his best. He'd not had such a contract with Phaedra, even if he wished she'd amalgamate his demise out of his desires now. The more he tried to be a monster, the more willing she was to save him with herself. If they had started sooner, a month, a year, had he consumed her already?

So he had to find something else to blanket the fire. Using the inherent willingness for skinship had been a brilliant thought, he mistakenly believed. But her love came at his heart with an edge on this side, as well. If there was to be anything left of Phae, it would have to be something that he spared. He kissed her harder, oppressed her mouth and sucked at her lips until they dressed his teeth. It was a cruelty to take her air like that, but it was better than anything he wanted. Why are you hanging your life on my goodness when it is rotten? She tasted softer than Poppy, and more like a real affair, because there was no blood on her palled. He let her go again, but his hand in her jeans curved and pushed firmer against her, to map the outlines of that apex and learn its heat.

He thought to engage then, selfish as always. To take her first, if her first it would be, and have her violently all over these forgotten spaces. It was better than eating her and washing the floors himself, without his maid forever. And even if she'd be sore where his hand was now, and he'd scramble the heart in her chest for how he'd push her away afterward, at least she'd be alive to hurt. Ah, Phaedra's hero. What a lacking titant, with only scars for antlers.

"Yes." he answered her finally, and his fingers disobeyed when they moved cotton to the side. "This isn't our night." Still trying to spare her, so she'd be available for any urge later. He must be every weakness in every man. But before he could caress her in the middle, Poppy, who was both their strengths, put her voice to the door and rattled it with the judgement of her question. He laughed and his throat was miserable, bereft, but the sound was thankful. His hand back, his hungers back, away from his sweetest friend. He hugged her tight, and their skin touched. That was a real tender. "She saved you." he said. And me.

He could quickly forget the cotton he'd put askew on her, and turned around to merrily - even through his stupor of fatigue - look for his shirt. Poppy was as insulted as ever at the time it took, he was sure. He pulled the shirt back on, and it was as beautiful as shoulder blades and the hasty strings under them, and his noble spine and the valley of it, running into the start of his jeans. It is always a sin for parents to let their sons grow up beautiful. "You too, Phae." he encouraged and was suddenly wearing such delight on his face that it might mean, to her, that he much preferred Poppy. In reality he was just grateful for her interruption.

He could not open without looking like an ordeal, murder in one eye and other fleshward hunger in its twin, wild in his hair, so he swung the barrier wide without care after having turned the lock. There she was, clean as though they'd never had their own toss with volition in the summer house. "Poppy." he said, my salvager. "It's Poppy, Phae." he said, as though she should like the news better than him. "She's alright." he assured his sister.

He still leaned in, through the distaste she wore for the secrets in the liquor. He needed that shame now. "Found her in a bad place but she'd not been hurt, scratched only." He kept his own secret, the one he'd put in Sugar's mark, and that was only to safeguard his image. "I wasn't fit to drive home like this." As though she was a parent come to hear all her son's explanations to all his missteps. "I was going to bring her back early." There was still Phae on his lips, her taste and all the declarations they'd made in the apartment that wasn't lit yet. He tried to make his eyes bright as he stepped in, having occupied the frame for long enough to allow Phaedra to put on her sweater, lithe, if she intended to. "I... it's all going to be alright, after all." And the celebration was for his lack of sins, currently.

And there was their childhood friend, turned late adolescent something else, and he was hoping for something from his sister then, he supposed, that might feel like approval. He didn't reconcile it with the truth that he'd use it to slather over the raving ghost of the dance that was still warm in their blacked out, neon tinted atmosphere. Poppy would see from the front, and Phae could see from where she stood also, a boy who perhaps wasn't a murdering monster - because they wouldn't know - but all the falsehoods that a beloved boy can still be, as he tried to charm his way out of it.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on April 04, 2017, 04:27:34 am
Poppy had a nose for offense because she was hungry for it. The places they were in now, the three, were disgustingly poetic. She, restrained appetite and gluttonous for her usual vices. Dion, walking through the door they’d uncovered together, bloody and lost and shouldering all the blame she was willing to heft. Phaedra, their sweet keel, the deep middle of their pendulum as the twins ever reached. Reality would leave Phae adrift in their gravity. Poppy knew this, and she supposed Dion knew it too. It was not only her accusatory nature that seethed when he opened the door then. It was practicality. She had known them both too long.

The green in her eyes was still acrid, the way it had been acrid as she’d stared at him over the bucket. In the dim of the apartment that shade looked sterner still. Her darting gaze was swift, ingesting all the details she might flay her brother with later. The syncopated rise and fall of Phae’s chest under thin cotton not quite correctly in place. Dion’s silvered ribbons peeking through his hair. Mother’s marks that he usually hid well. The dark.

Phaedra had always been a terrible liar, if she was trying. Her slick lips and hasty fingers, dragging through the length of her hair like she might find order there, and the way she exhaled whatever atmosphere they’d shoved beneath the couch. When she smiled at Poppy it was apologetic. Poppy returned the expression, tight lipped. Her stare slid to Dion, who’d been talking since he opened the door. “Good thing I came then.” Poppy said. “It wouldn’t be proper, leaving you two here alone.” There was no humor in the way she said it, like she was spilling his liquor soaked organs to the floor with each syllable. Wet, fatalistic thuds from a bucket. She laughed after, though. It was meant to be reassuring to Phae, who’d be blushing more now.

“And, I mean, I trust Phaedra. She’s a good girl. But you, Dionysus…” she tossed her head, her bob of dark strands floating across her shoulders. “Any idiot knows better than to trust a smooth talker like you with a pretty thing like our Phae.” Ours, because she seemed to think he needed reminding. It was Phaedra’s turn to giggle. She sounded nervous. Phae always did, when Poppy caught them without her. But Phaedra had never cultivated and illusions about Poppy. She supposed the other girl could see right through her. Made her remember to be ashamed of the flutter Dion placed her belly.

“Dion did come for me. The party wasn’t, ah, wasn’t what I thought it would be.” Phaedra said. She seemed puzzled. It was hard to gauge how forthcoming she ought to be. Poppy must be aware of Dion and he of her. Poppy probably realized Phaedra knew too. But Poppy was good at setting the pace and nothing was real until she said it out loud.

Poppy hit the light switch and shut the door behind her. The fluorescence was jarring. “Oh, good. I guess you’ve got a bit of gentlemanly charm left in you after all, Little Brother.” She said. She didn’t smile at him. Poppy crossed to Phae and came to stand behind her, looping her arms over the smaller girl’s shoulders and peering back at Dion. “Shall I take her home? If you’re not fit to be driving, it’s better you sleep it off here, right?” she asked. “Or do I need to stay and keep an eye on you too?” Poppy said, sighing as if she’d already resigned herself to the latter option.

Phaedra stiffened. “Oh, I didn’t mean to cause you trouble tonight. You’re both causing too much of a fuss.” She murmured. If Dion chasing after her was flattering, Poppy doing the same made her feel as if she must be a sore inconvenience. Which was not, in the least, to say that Phaedra had any less affection for the older twin. Rather, there was some level of worship there. Dion had probably been untouchable to her too, once. It was only that her hormones had made him human. Poppy tightened her wrap on Phae’s shoulders, a gentle squeeze, and shook her head.

“No trouble, Phae.” She disagreed. “We like fussing over you, anyway.” Poppy pressed her cheek to Phaedra’s. “Really, you wanted to see Dion anyway, right? It hasn’t been the three of us in a while.” Poppy said. A benevolent ruler, in the end. She shot Dion a curious look. If he behaved, maybe there was forgiveness for the earlier evening at the end of this night. Poppy was certain he’d want that much. He’d already begun vying for it the moment he’d unlocked the door, too slow. Or, if not, he should want it for her. Because Poppy could not be content with believing the offense of her brother’s hunger was his most present reality. 

Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on April 04, 2017, 10:36:25 am
She came, standing at the door, with the kind of suffering that drew from his endurance rather than his reflexive resilience to sudden. It pulled some of the illness out of him, and he felt the sober boys see when they jumps from cliffs, before the break of the ocean. When the sister of his blood looked at the sister of their hearts he wanted to perform all the gestures in the world to have Phaedra collect herself in a better way, even though he couldn’t quite place why she screeched so of their close-to, of their almost. But Poppy’s tentacles were out, running over every ill-concealed clue. If he thought too much she’d accuse. They were both prone to fall apart, then, him because maybe he wanted Poppy to know, and Phaedra because she was innocent.

His mouth opened to laugh for answer, but she didn’t jest about what ought not happen when purposely scarred boys and their perfectly soft opposites congregate in the dark by themselves. He thought to fortify his case, and perhaps draw on some history where he’d shown great restrain, but that would be odd – because Phae shouldn’t hear that, because then Poppy would know he’d folded Phae into their world – and useless, because that wasn’t the kind of logic that would govern this interaction, now. It would all circle and land on a point where she’d be right, anyway; improper. He wanted to collect the lightness of Poppy’s laughter for himself, he wanted it almost as much as he’d wanted blood earlier, but it was just like her to throw precious metal to clatter all over the floor and tell him he couldn’t pick up any of it.

She went on with the game she’d mastered, wrapping Phae with tension’s chords until pleading, merry sounds bubbled from her lips. Their friend had no weapons, here. “But I didn’t talk smooth…” he petitioned. And that lie was so much a lie it was blacker than the room. He felt pleasant from remembering how he’d scolded and then swayed Phae. He had been shameless, hadn’t he, even hiding from himself? And there she was, trying beyond her means to save him again, this time from familiar judgment. Poppy burned that attempt with yellow firelight, and he thought she’d turned all the secrets here to cinder with the switch, as though telling them both they were hers now.

He was eager to dress himself in the guise of the moral archetype she threw out, but knew better than to let his fingers be slapped. So he stayed when Poppy held Phaedra, and the image was sweet and taunting at the same time, because his sister blatantly took their friend from him, then, to show him how to really play with her. From the two options she laid out, he’d rather keep them both here, had actually winced at being left alone as a punishment. As though there wasn’t more in his future, if the truth about Sugar’s Dion found someone righteous. His head lowered in a common gesture of ‘I leave it up to you’. And she would usually know what he preferred.

It was so delicious, his women cheek to cheek, and it was followed by the smallest invitation for redemption at the ends of Poppy’s smile. He had begun to worry there’d be no reprieve at all, for a while. He was eager for it, and this was a task he’d longed for. Of course, when he’d been overzealous as little lords become, and waved his arms enthusiastically with no intention but all the fate of bruising, the forgiveness he’d been working toward was for such small slights in comparison to the things Poppy now knew about. Still, he came to them, shifting attention from gentle friend to hard sister. “Yes, we live to serve you, after all, Phae.” It was a distasteful joke from the outside, but the three knew he meant it. If their mother and father could have old thoughts, Dion had always held Phaedra and her mother in his heart, which was why he felt the accompanying shame when he faltered in that bond.

Weary of Poppy’s opinion on his closeness, he encircled Phaedra’s waist also, which brought his hand around to her spine, where Poppy’s stomach was. A bid to let him into the pride again. He thought to excuse himself after this embrace, but Phaedra’s warmth through her sweater, that he’d known first hand before, and Poppy’s lips sang for him to stay. He touched his brow to his sister’s and pressed Phaedra deeper into himself, unaware that it might look like an attempt at reclaiming her.

“Thanks for coming.” He said on Poppy’s face as his knuckles caressed her abdomen. His cheek pressed against her always bladed lips so she could forgive him if she wanted. It was affectionate enough that he wouldn’t be left too awkward if she didn’t. With some distress, he remembered the twofold attention Phaedra had received on this shoulder they leaned on, and he wasn’t entirely sure this kind of friction wouldn’t upset the hardened surface of the marks. If the sweater stained, so did his lie. “There’s nothing here to offer.” Or to share. Maybe some water in the fridge, and a wealth of forgotten clothes. He pitted his cheekbone against his sister’s, and held Phaedra even tighter to nuzzle and force Poppy’s head from the damning shoulder. It was hard not to think of what he’d deceitfully opened inside her mouth then, in the summer house kitchen. If he was unsuccessful in prying Poppy away, or even if he succeeded, he’d take them the couch.

He got to lead them, sometimes, when they played and he wanted to change the scene. Maybe from a castle of boulders and moss among the tight trees to a clearing with noonday light. He’d hold Phaedra’s wrist and Poppy’s hand, because their friend should follow, but sometimes Poppy needed more gentle to be convinced. “We should stay up, then.” He suggested. “Now that we’re all here.” And the couch that would have been Phae’s bed could easily host the three of them. He wondered if he should sit between them, since he thought Phaedra was such a liability now, as though he wasn’t some crackling vial of secrets, too. Instead he sat on the floor in front of them if they wanted the couch. In a rough sense that made them a circle, which in a naïve mind would make them equals.

He gave attention to Poppy, and it was a little transparent, then. He took off her shoes and absentmindedly tended to her leg, spoiling it with kneading and rubbing. “How are things?” if she would thaw, could it be at least a small taste of the forgiveness he wanted? The question itself was stale, more telling than anything else he could have said. She wasn’t some forgotten acquaintance recently resurfaced. He desired fervently some topic that could catch the right momentum. All he could think up was jokes of Phae’s recent roles as a party goer and quips about walnut shells.

“Caspian.” He breathed. “Caspian!” it was not a shout but it wasn’t conversational volume, either. “How is he? Is he treating you like he should?”

A lieutenant during hazing and – admittedly – the torture of those with beginning bloodthirst, Caspian was sweet, pretending at mischief in front of Poppy. Dionysus, who had always tried to present himself as very pleased by the pairing of his sister and his closest kindred, did not always easily stomach Caspian’s company after the clean-cut jokester had basically begged him for a chance to at least speak familiarly with the pretty sister. Back when Dion had given his blessing, he assumed Poppy would have nothing of it. Dion had all his training for considerate lying from watching and encouraging them at cost of his own patience. There were nights when he came home and Poppy was away with her beau that Dion thought of biting Caspian’s nose off, and sucking out his eyes. Now, however, Caspian was more than welcome in the room. There could be nothing more neutral than a common, absent friend. He was most likely conspiring for punishment for the new students, a bloody, wonderful ordeal.

“Phae here is dating too.” He teased. He’d already forbidden her from seeing her guide to the thumping butchery. Hubris faithful, he did not worry about her dalliances, anymore. He also didn’t look into himself to see why they had mattered in the first place. Instead he put her foot on his knee, as though she’d be next when he’d properly softened Poppy. It was mostly for contact, he couldn’t imagine Poppy being sated any time soon, and rejection would also put him out of the mood to massage anyone else.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on April 06, 2017, 05:08:22 am
Poppy’s eyes had rolled at his tar lies. They were washed away with the apartment lights. Brightness in a quiet that made their visit seem foreign. This space was more theirs now because of the conspiracy of its alien. Poppy frowned at the sensation. She’d not come with any real eagerness to make amends. She’d been worried for Phaedra. Poppy had been half way to her alibi’s house when she’d been unable to stomach the thought of Phae spilling across some sidewalk and Dion hunting for guilt.

“I told you, I came for Phae.” Poppy reminded him when he came to them, eyes narrowing like a peeved housecat when he applied his touch. She could accept the effort without being impressed with its execution. The light peck she granted his cheek was terse and exacted with such a practiced aura of obligation that it might have been kinder if she’d not at all. He’d been subject to this sort of behavior more than once. Poppy liked to act this way when she wanted other people to see that she was feeling slighted. It was a slight disappointment to her when it became apparent that Phaedra was too distracted to pay much mind.

Phaedra was fidgeting between them. She’d never been overly good with their closeness. In many ways, Phaedra had envied the way Poppy and Dionysus had often moved like curious extensions of one another. They made contact like it was for photographs, pretty twins with dark stares and cut cheekbones. She’d sometimes wondered if it were the product of a sibling bond she couldn’t understand, being an only child herself. As she’d gotten older, she realized it was simply Dion and Poppy. Decadent with each other because they could be. Phaedra thought it was lovely until it made her uncomfortable. She shifted again.

Poppy didn’t take kindly to being moved, though she let him play at affection because it suited Dion to behave that way. She didn’t think to be suspicious of the way he nudged face away from Phae’s shoulder, though she wondered why such a gesture might make their friend shiver. Dion would feel the intensity of her stare on his neck when he did finally tug them toward the couch. “You’re so much more domestic when we leave you alone.” Poppy commented. Dinner earlier, with blood. Fussing over their comfort now, with eager dishonesty. She glanced at Phaedra, who looked back. “He must miss you.” She said.

Phaedra laughed because she knew she should. “Rather, maybe he just doesn’t need my help as much as I thought.” She said. Her volume dropped as she said it, the twist of other implications rushing up to swallow the sentiment. Maybe he would have let her help him if Poppy hadn’t come. But maybe not. Somehow the possibility of that kind of rejection stung more than the simplicity of a denied love. Phaedra was not so fatalistic as to lust after his appetite, but she had idolized being needed for as long as she’d known him.

The elder twin shrugged. “Need doesn’t much matter. Preference does. Dion is spoiled.” Poppy said. Phaedra smiled. Poppy sighed. “You know you’re spoiled, right?” Poppy asked him. She was thawing easily enough, despite the fact she was still keenly suspicious of her brother and the things she might not have interrupted. It was difficult to stay too offended when they were a trio again, though. And it was easy to ignore Dion’s meats in this separate place with separate memories. She settled in on the couch, pressing her shoulder into Phaedra’s. As if she still thought it well to remind her brother that she had come expressly to distrust him. There was that, but also she’d seemed to accept they had settled on spending their night there. Poppy would only ever scold him to arm’s length, no matter the crime. She’d also not acknowledge it as a concession.

“Oh, that would be fun. It’s been a long time since we’ve stayed up all night together. Even since before you left.” Phaedra agreed. She was earnest. If she minded that Poppy had soaked up Dion’s primary focus, it was not apparent. She was happy to settle into the couch cushions as well.

Poppy watched Dion as he plied her skin with practiced hands. He’d done this for her often enough, when she’d come home complaining of soreness after running with the cross-country team. She wondered, briefly, if he’d exercised this skill with other girls. Or with Phae. She arched a brow when he injected Caspian into the slowly enveloping calm.

“Caspian is fine. He asks about you, like I told you earlier.” She said. Poppy could pretend he wasn’t a monster, but she wasn’t about to let him forget the earlier evening either. “I think he’s a little less confident when you’re not at school with him.” She said it like she found it a bit endearing, which was curious. Poppy did not tend to find any hint of spinelessness endearing. “He always treats me well, of course.” A given, because he’d not be around still if he did not. Poppy inclined her head.

“You joke, but our Phae is in high demand. Caspian’s older brother mentioned her, even. I hear Morgan has an interest too.” Poppy said. Phaedra was blushing, and it was a little scandalous in the wake of all her pretty rosiness for Dion’s touch. If either twin hadn’t known better, it might have seemed she was simply weak for attention, no matter where it came from.

“It’s not true. I think boys just say things, you know?” Phaedra offered. She had not applied the same reasoning in the dark.

Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on April 06, 2017, 12:38:28 pm
How cruel, the little affection on his cheek, and he gave a reaction as though she’d ran her palm across his face, fast, but the recoil was slow and shallow and faded, because in truth, she had not. A little backward nod, in the end. He could forget it when he was able to deceive her with his nudges, to save Sugar’s secret under his own. Then he could delight in Phaedra’s worming. It was always in a subtle way that the friend took his attention. That was why it didn’t happen often. Poppy’s expectation of being their sun was usually enough to make it so.

“I am.” Domestic. But he couldn’t turn, because that would mean having to meet Poppy’s eyes, and then she would see everything, he though. His murder, that he’d not cried for yet, and how he’d all but had at Phae. “I do.” Miss her. He squeezed Phaedra’s hand a little tighter then, on their way, and made it another thing between them that Poppy might not be wise to. He squeezed harder, almost to punish her when she suggested she’d outlived her own use to him. Spoiled as he was, and proud, he’d see it as the wrong kind of evolution to be able to exist without her help. He finally did turn when Poppy addressed it. “Ah, spoiled? No. Just very fond of my comforts.” Which was only cementing her point. He tried some cheeky in that smirk, to test Poppy’s mood.

He sighed, sitting on the floor, looking at the two girls gathered and hearing Phae attaching herself to the plan. He reminisced over missing them when father took him hunting, and being beyond himself when he returned and he found them together. If only that impossibly young, clean exaltation had been left alone as it was in him, instead of mingling with other possibilities with girl’s charms, now. It was good to hear Caspian was not as prolific without him. Perhaps because in his base, Caspian was sweeter and needed Dion’s darkness to guide him when doing wrong to others. “He will get into it. The other’s will look to him for hijinks now.” It was a kind term for abhorrent acts. Dion would miss them. “You  just tell me if he ever is inappropriate.” He teased. But it was a null subject. Like she said, it was not in Caspian to be anything but good to her. Sometimes Dion wished for the opposite so he could include the friend-in-law in the cull to be punished. The thought of even upstanding Caspian’s hands on Poppy made Dion dizzy with wrath. If she liked it, it would only make it worse too, so he pried carefully.

“Oh?” he pressed about Phae as a commodity. He looked at the girl with some playful accusation. At least it was meant to be perceived as playful. Hadn’t she just been so adamant about holding him back from a crimson cliff with such a tempting, touching declaration? It was her own fault that others looked, wasn’t it? Armand had said things to corroborate Poppy, the brother a collection of Caspian’s darker sides and more. The two were different because of one another. They both looked to their brother for how not to be. It had been said Armand was on his way of being quite dear until Caspian was. Dionysus had heard a lewd comment from him about Phaedra, and quickly retaliated. Something about monetary superiority that was a sore point for both brothers. After that Armand hadn’t said much, which almost made Dion regretful, since it made it harder to survey his intentions. “It seems you like to listen to the things we say, though.” He added and didn’t point, but was overly clear that he meant Phaedra’s adorable, deeper color. “Who would be your favorite, out of the two?” And then, without knowing why, he shoved his thumb deep into Poppy’s foot’s inner arch, which was pleasurable from his experience, but also, with his other hand, pulled one of her toes until it popped. He suspected it was for delivering such upsetting news. While the boy was somewhat docile with them, he was rarely so about them. Some of Sugar’s friend in him, now, and that boy liked to think the world was locked around his axis.

“Ah, we do have this!” he said and pulled out his phone. It was still bleeding edge but he suspected he wouldn’t be able to afford to upgrade it when it wasn’t. Hopefully the next iteration would be indistinguishable from its predecessor. The screen was overtaken by a triangle soon, long. He placed it on Poppy’s lap. The name of the game was spelled out in orange, whimsical font. Truth or dare. He told himself it would be sweet like they used to play, silly. Did you steal my sweets, pretend to be a dragon. But they’d matured a great deal since last. His own preferences had become overly ripe, hadn’t they?

It was rigged, this particular digital contraption. Depending on pressure and area, he could control the arrow. The boys he governed used it as a gateway to girl’s giggles, usually, and then tried to push the familiarity by steering the outcome. He already knew the first falsely randomized option would be Dare by his design, and that it would land on Phae if he spun. He would start off light, of course, and tell her to imitate Poppy for him in a conversation. And for a bit of a finale, he’d ask this new, pretend sister what she thought of Phaedra, herself. Of course, as he quietly celebrated his triumph-to-come, there was plenty of time for either of the other two to flick their finger across the screen, and truly make it all an ordeal of chance. Hubris is only a sin when it is punished.

When pressed, though, Dion would always play. Dare, especially. He didn't expect any of the Girls to offer a challenge to this new monster he'd become.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on April 09, 2017, 04:35:11 pm
“I’m not encouraging him to take the lead on your ridiculous games, if that’s what you’re implying.” Poppy said blandly. “It was getting a little stale anyhow.” She said. Rather, Poppy had sympathy for their targets now. If Dion caught her stare he’d see her agitation. She was a slave to the same wants as he, but had apparently never harbored the same predatory heart. Poppy was the type to torture a soul, not maim a body. “Besides, that kind of behavior is concerning, right? If he’s bound to treat me right…” she trailed off. “You might find it soft, but I don’t see a need for Cas to be gruff.” She finished, because there was not a good way of rounding out that line of thinking.

Phaedra pressed her palm to her cheek, as if the gesture wasn’t itself further incrimination. Armand and Morgan. They were both boys at the upper end of demand in school. Dion had always been there with them, though the two were his upperclassmen. It spoke to Dionysus’ potential and had, on occasion, made the others jealous. They had the practicality of wealth though, and had thought it best to draw in what they envied rather than quash it. That trio had been mostly friendly before Dion left. Phae had understood those superficial dynamics in the same way the other wide-eyed girls had, but she’d generally seen it through a lens. She was only at that academy out of the good graces of Dion’s mother. Phae was good about her place. If Morgan and Armand had noticed her, it was like celebrities had looked her way. It didn’t matter whether she took a returned interest or not. There was no real chance that she’d not be flattered.

Poppy’s lips parted to offer Dion that explanation, sympathetic because she supposed Phaedra would always be inept at spinning the appropriate dance for her brother’s prying. “She—“ Poppy began, but Phaedra had begun to speak as well.

“They don’t find me interesting. Or, if they do, I’m certain it’s the novelty of slumming with a family maid. I don’t have a favorite.” She said. Poppy blinked. It was in the vein of Phaedra’s usual self-deprecation, but she had rarely shown such taciturn assessments of Dion and Poppy’s world. It stung somehow. Perhaps because it had been said in this place, rather than one of their bedrooms. Poppy had not anticipated Phae would be the one to inject distance where there was already too much.  Poppy’s toes twitched in the wake of Dion’s pressure. She stared down at him from her place on the couch.

“That’s probably for the best. I hate to brag, but I think I might have already snatched up the only good thing from that group.” Poppy said slowly, a vague smile for her sweeter Caspian. She did not choose to address the stark contrast of their persistence in the same sphere. She’d have used such a comment to lash out against someone else, but she didn’t want Phaedra to be other to them. It would make their usual jokes about Phae’s cleaning and pampering seem cruel, rather than endearing.

Phaedra exhaled when Dion brought out the phone, a poorly conceived sense of relief when he suggested the game. She, too, was imagining their old games. They could be together over prim Poppy squawking like a chicken. “Fun! It’s been a long time since we played anything like this.” Phaedra agreed. Poppy leaned over the phone and then glanced back at Dion. The steadiness of her stare was not at all coincidental when she flicked her slim finger over the screen. The arrow bobbled.

“Yes, I agree. Let’s play. But Dion, no cheating. Caspian is pretty candid about your games, you know.” She said lightly. Verdict from big sister. She had been kind enough not to be explicit with his little deceit, if Phaedra was still sweet enough to miss it. It might be concerning that Caspian was so open about the boys’ games now. It seemed that Dion’s short time away might have given his friend courage and that Cas was vying to be closer to Poppy’s heart than he’d been before. “Anyway, Dion seems to have picked you to go first, Phae.” Poppy said with a smile, perching her chin on her palm. Phaedra nodded and swiped at the screen. Chance still said Dion had a good chance of getting his way, for this round at least.

Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on April 09, 2017, 10:25:14 pm
It was not Poppy's place to judge the traditions of their school, he thought, but realized soon his new side of things. It wasn't such a leap to imagine that the boy who'd thrown other children at their own inflamed lusts had a hard time letting go of his privileged position. Still. He held dear some of the work he'd done in bloody pits. It was denial and realization, swimming but not melding, like fat in store-bought milk. She was right, that Caspian should not believe too deeply in their boy's creed if he was to have any future with Poppy. Caspian couldn't know this. It was ludicrous, though, to Dion, that she would ever reveal to her current significant what she was, what she was becoming.

"So you'd rather have him out of it, then, suddenly when he's been the face of it with me?" A wrinkle on the brother's nose, thin shadows that never became a snarl, that held irritation and challenge all the same. She'd not tested him on this subject before, and it was exactly in the center of his broken-up life. He meant that it'd indite Caspian terribly to act like that. Dion thought his own departure could be blamed on family matters, but staying in their circuits while not persecuting the hungry was the same as jumping from their echelons down into the Colosseum sand. In all his new found grit, Dion was still a snob.

The reflexive answer, the way it had taken his features and made them look doubtful and dark, were swept away with different disbelief, a heavier, grayer kind when Phae spoke of herself. For a childhood friend of hers it was hard to hear. He wanted to inject value into her somehow, and make her understand how decrepit others were compared to her. Their darling innocent friend. But she'd not said it with any sadness. She'd rambled it like truths she thought anyone would know. He could not formulate anything in her defense before Poppy laid the subject to rest. He returned his sister's look shortly but then lingered at Phaedra, wishing that kind of thinking away.

The game was welcome, then, and he shared the lightness it seemed to bring to Phae. Anything to have her smile, after that. His eyes narrowed slightly when Poppy boasted her knowledge and he felt more than before that he should have a talk with Caspian. There were severe punishments in their little cults, even if this wasn't technically connected to the bloodletting of lower classmates. At the very least it was a breach of brotherly protocol between them. Perhaps it bothered Dion because he himself had not told Poppy of this, which of course raised Caspian's standing as a moral man in her eyes.

"I am sure I don't know what you're speaking of." he said with the amount of coy the situation invited. Filibustering about the intricacies of boy's lies would not help him, now. Poppy would always win any length of discussion if she wanted, anyhow. She had used her asset well, he realized, since the kind of trick he'd planned to play couldn't possibly take place now. He did, however, feel a bit sour with his beloved Poppy at the moment, and casually gave her leg one last squeeze before he placed it on the floor. It was Phaedra's turn to have her foot spoiled. He started under her knee and watched her finger command the arrow.

He thought there was a pretty difference between the two pretty faces, then, in the way they waited for the digital judgement to fall. He might have hugged Phae's foot a little tighter in anticipation, as well. When the triangle slowed he scoffed in triumph as it all but meant to aim at his older sister. He was not so gleeful after, when it had come to its real stop, clearly stabbing in his own direction. He looked up at Phae with some accusation, but it was all part of the game. If he shrugged it off, it would simply not have been as entertaining.  There was nothing at stake between them, but this game hinged on them acting as though there was. It was not far from his nature to be competitive, also. The square with the dramatic, almost gaudy font flicked a few times before it settled on Dare and the phone gave a taunting chime, announcing the the word.

Dion gave an overly obvious grin as he looked at the current queen of the situation. "Oh, Dare? Surely this needs to be a slow start, since we haven't played in so long, right, Phaedra?" His acting was a bit less pronounced after that, but he'd already reveal himself as trying to influence her. "Maybe I should tell a joke, or go on about how easily I can best anyone at my age in sprint? Oh, maybe you'd like to see my lats flexed, I've worked on them a bit." Fox that he was, he tended to her shin a little extra, and petted her caff in a very precious way. "Actually, if it's too hard to decide, just skip me at let me have my turn, yes?" So far, their pending adulthood had not found its way into this remnant of their early youth.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on April 11, 2017, 02:45:13 am
Poppy was an animal of a different kind, regardless of the civilized skins she thought to wear. It was difficult for her to maintain the appropriate degree of placid when she found her syllables had struck uncomfortably with her brother. Poppy was sure she was justified in all the things she had said, so his stirred ire was simply incriminating. Willful and brutish boy, living away from home and without her guidance. Even mother had never had such thoughts. But this girl, less than an hour Dion’s senior, had been born to be the first. She was almost smiling, a little pity in the curl. “I never told him to stay after your games or not.” She said. “I just don’t see a reason to encourage the behavior. Inherently, your targets were already doomed without you.” Poppy brushed a dark strand behind her ear. “If you’re so inclined to keep Cas running with your silly boys, handle it yourself.” She said. Her stare narrowed. She’d not be disappointed at either turn. Poppy would have been happy to goad him back into attending school.

She might have gone for his throat, antagonizing as she could be, had Phaedra not been with them. Those spats had often ended in wrestling as children, though Poppy had stopped the practice years ago. In its place they brewed peculiar tensions that the sister seemed to thrive on, long past the exhaustion of whatever arguments they’d conjured. In some sense, Dion might have read real affection behind all her spitting. It would not have been wrong.

As usual, the twins were willing enough to settle into lighter moods for Phaedra’s sake. The girl had watched the exchange and said nothing, smiling mildly like this was the usual sort of banter. She had learned this was the best approach. Phae was glad to be absorbed in watching the digital needle spin, though Dion did pull at her attention when he reached for her. She made a small sound, almost a protest, and wore her pretty pink for them both again when he tended to her calf.

Poppy almost rolled her eyes. There were moments when Phaedra was practically too much, no matter how much love she had for her friend.

“Make it something hard, Phaedra, just because he’s being an ass.” Poppy said with a spritely grin in her brother’s direction. Children with adolescent words and grown up secrets. Phaedra sighed and shook her head.

“You’re both being ridiculous.” She informed, though she didn’t sound upset about it. Phaedra tapped her palm to her cheek, chewing on her lower lip as she rolled various options over in her head. “Anyhow, I dare you to…” she trailed off, uncertain of what she might want to ask. There were a number of things that came to mind, most of which demanding Poppy’s absence. She thought of the way his fingertips had felt, slipping below her jeans. She blushed a shade deeper.

“I dare you to apologize to Poppy and me. A good apology, for leaving so fast and not calling. You made us worry. And—and at least Poppy can go see you easily enough. Seeing you tonight, like this, was practically an accident.” Phaedra blurted in a sudden rush. It had begun as a quick cover for the less pure ideas that had crowded in and turned rapidly into a spill of more heartfelt frustration. She didn’t look upset, really, but she didn’t look like she was joking.

Poppy let out a little hiss of air, a short pulse that turned into a loud laugh. “Oh my god, that’s perfect. Dion! She’s asking you to grovel. Fucking grovel! To Phae!” Poppy yelped. Phaedra sat up a bit on the sofa, waving her hands to protest.

“I didn’t mean—“ she began, but Poppy waved her off.

“But you did! Or, you should! God, Dion, you kind of do owe us an apology anyway.” Poppy giggled and sighed, running her hand over her face. She didn’t look at him. She probably wanted that apology to be for earlier, too. 

Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on April 11, 2017, 10:38:41 am
Poppy promptly stepped into her fitted battle armor. It had been a sore spot for the brother, and he had reacted defensively, which meant he'd not spoken with much forethought, he usually didn't with his family, while he could be very calculating with Silly Boys. He wanted to yell at her, to appropriately cement that he could not go home, and how dare she, he even inhaled between parted teeth to bark it clearly to her, but something so cerebral would be full of flaws, and then Poppy would have enough ammunition. When he turned his face away, it was to shake the folds and shadows of wrath out. Frustration lived and died in his shoulders and he thought he’d betrayed to his own impulses.

He took some comfort in Phae’s reaction to his touches, then, before he became the first victim of the application. While her minimal scolding didn’t have any real taste, he knew if Phedra said it, there must be some truth to it, in her heart. He could live with being ridiculous. He remained quite confident, and winked smugly at Poppy while their friend made up her mind. “Oh, Phae, I dear you too.” He replied and it was an old joke between the three of them. Dion misinterpreted her rising crimson to fill her cheekbones for having been at that jest. He would have been happier to know the truth.

The winking eye and its other clipped again, dumbly, listening to the task that was laid up. It was quite a contrast in receiving such a devastating mission from such benevolent lips, which were sharply lined, with their arch, and softly shaped in their smallness, as he’d always appreciated. He was hurting for his own ego at first, and then because she was wrong in that his leaving was an evil toward them. The sentiment that he’d placed himself far beyond her reach when he’d kept a lifeline with Poppy brought his heavily sauntering heart to a dead stop. When she spoke he had to listen, because she’d not made herself known to voice her concerns. And these were impactful.

His wrist went over the cap of her knee of the leg he was holding, hand open like he was hungry. He intended to soothe her, somehow, and even considered promising that he’d be back in the house where they’d grown up, one day. If he’d left for shame, father’s shame, then he could come back for Phaedra’s sake. Self-appointed family man, Dion. But his friendly touch had no time to undo the distance before Poppy all too eagerly pulled his ego back. And it was neglected and belligerent in him. His large, predatory mouth became small with irritation and spells of cusses that he had to eat. Phaedra’s leg was off his lap now, too, but the dismissal wasn’t at her, precisely. Sometimes anger is just outward.

“You’re a fucking snake.” He said, beside his own control, at the gleeful girl beside Phae. Her green color, which threaded over the innate dark underneath, was cold on his eyes then. Poppy was supposed to know, he thought, because she was afflicted too. But she didn’t. She just put her own creed of aristocracy in adversary on him. He tried to deliver some of that to her, but he suspected the meaning was burnt away by his propensity for anger. If Phae tried to take it back he’d look at her with those eyes too. He’d not step back now.

“I’m sorry.” He started, and the guilt was helpful in quelling the outburst waiting in his stomach. This was an opportunity too. If Phae would listen then Poppy had to, as well. He took both their hands and held them to his face. They smelt lovely together. He remembered the flavors of their blood. “I was fed up with my weakness and then I did a horrible thing.” The boy who’d been too innocent to know, and too delicious to let be. “It was too much, and father knows, in part.” He said and it was a lot of air out of his lungs, because he’d not confessed like this before. “But I should have afforded both of you the courtesy of saying.” They had their hands back, and he looked candid.

He turned to Poppy, and even though she was making him as angry as only she knew how, she deserved this. “You’re my sister, my twin, and I think I’d be devastated if you left like I did. I am sorry for that. I was selfishly eager to lick my wounds.” And then Phae, who afforded him all this. “Phae, I’m sorry for leaving and for the way that I left and for the way that I stayed away. I still love you. I just thought now wasn’t a good time for good things in my life.” Love, again. Hopefully she’d hear it right, this time. “You must come visit me when you can, and if not, I’ll come to you.”

He waited until all the words had either fallen down or gone all the way to where they wanted to be. After that he laughed lightly to dispel some of the gravity. He was about to continue the course of events, hoping deeply for Poppy, and for the square to say Dare.

“Sister dare.” He'd start, and it wouldn't be sweet or funny. His hand would come up again, toward her, turned to show the line of life and curled fingers. Soft hand that had only really worked when it was dealing punishment to those that had the same thing as he in their blood. “Have some.” He’d rather she bit into the flesh, draw blood, but if she was feeling fatalistic, he’d still stand for it if she wanted a finger. “It’s what you like, too, isn’t it?” Phaedra hadn’t seen this side of Poppy, and Poppy didn’t acknowledge it herself, fully. He would have considered the cruelty to their friend with her paper heart, unsoaked, but he was more out for retaliation, now. And being bitten by sister hadn’t been unpleasant in the kitchen. It was time they included Phae in their pathology, anyway.

But he realized, reaching to spin that arrow and setting this gamble in motion again, that he needed their forgiveness also, and his eyes became wider at the sudden thought. He looked up from the screen that he’d stared at with greed, and his attention went from Phae to Poppy.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on April 14, 2017, 05:26:21 am
Phaedra thought she didn’t know what to do with the way Dion answered. It was what she’d wanted, she supposed. Some part of her. And then there was the part that regretted asking. In the context of his sincere apology, she couldn’t be so self-absorbed as to read his love wrong. The result was a shadow of remorse for the moments before Poppy and a latent embarrassment for her own fantasies. Phae had been very willing to misunderstand, and wanted to still, but she was a creature of moods and the ambiance of repressed romance had fled Poppy’s green stare and she felt like she was her twelve-year-old self again. She’d felt special for the forehead kisses to distract from her scraped knees until Poppy had received the same without bleeding.

“I’d like to visit you, when I can.” Phaedra said quietly. She was somewhat deflated, a little less brave than the girl who’d bared her heart and throat earlier. Poppy was watching her.

“Well. At the very least, you could afford to call her from time to time.” She suggested, because Phaedra would get in trouble for visiting and hadn’t the benefits of lineage to protect her place in the family home. And Poppy supposed that Dion was lying about visiting. Her expression said as much, a little warning there. As usual, she would deny Phae the things that made the girl’s heart flutter to preserve her. It was a curious thing, how sure the sister was that her twin could not return Phaedra’s earnest. It spoke volumes more about her than her brother. Nonetheless, it was unlikely anyone in that room had stopped to question her.

Phaedra cleared her throat after a moment, the silence after Poppy’s half joke growing uncomfortable. They all laughed out of obligation. “Sorry.” Phae said, before Dion spun the needle. For saying things that made too much somber. For reminding their game that it was in older hands. She should have started lighter, like Dion had suggested.

It was chance rather than Dion’s will that brought the needle toward Poppy and demanded a dare. Still, he looked too satisfied with the result for the sister not to be incredulous. It was light, though, which was needed after the thick of Dion’s apologies. Her expression made Phaedra laugh. Poppy seemed to like that attention and did not quite catch the shift in Dion’s expression, playing into the premise of her annoyance with a huff and roll of her eyes. “Well, have your revenge, Little Brother.” She said with the weary of a practiced elder sibling.

Her theatrics snapped like a tensioned line, abrupt when he extended his hand toward her. Poppy’s stare was sparking, the way she’d first come sweeping through that door. Always ready to judge, that one, and fast to jump to conclusions. If she was wrong, she’d have her superiority before it was proven and shift guilt in the aftermath. It was cruel to embarrass her, after all. But Poppy was not jumping to conclusions now. An instinctual read of the offer before it fell off his lips, written on his veins with glaring clarity. She would have slapped him if it weren’t so likely to make Phaedra cry.

“Fuck you, Dion.” Poppy said to his extended limb. Phae startled where she sat as Poppy’s hissing and Dion’s dare summed in her head finally.

“Oh, Dion, don’t…” she murmured weakly. Poppy hadn’t moved.

“Right after that apology, too? You really are a spoiled brat.” Poppy said. Phae was moving, like she thought she could physically prevent Poppy’s words from stabbing through the semblance of nostalgia they’d captured. “I don’t like anything about it.” Poppy continued. She sounded like she believed it. Poppy was a firm believer in ruling her own nature. But still she swallowed hard.

“Dionysus, you shouldn’t… and to Poppy, you shouldn’t…” Phaedra started. She was very honestly concerned for them both, but there was a personal urgency in her voice that surprised herself and gave her pause. She’d not anticipated the sudden panic that welled up in her chest when Dion reached out. A frightening sense of being other from them. Dion had said Poppy was innocent, but he sat there with his hand held out and Phaedra felt she’d been betrayed. “This was just supposed to be fun, like it used to be.”

Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on April 15, 2017, 01:46:16 am
They were gracious. It was more than he should have but he had very little issue with receiving it. First from Phae, with that little image of her coming to the summer house to see if he was any good as a host, and then his sister, speaking sense while meaning Phae was unrealistic and he was negligent. The chaste and the chastiser. It was all of Dion's happiness on the couch, then. The taste from Poppy's tongue stayed between them all until Phaedra was sorry again. He'd smirked and looked her in the eye when the arrow went around. It wasn't necessary to always forgive her.

Poppy was the appropriate amount of confident and then held all of the fitting blades out. The poor friend, always on everyone's side, tried to dispel something he'd cast. It was not so easily taken away. Not when Poppy looked at his hand as though it was coated in blood already, and she was wearing a white dress she prefer remain innocent. Her insult and refusal rolled off him as it should never. Sister's harshness was supposed to stick. It was what kept Dionysus in line. Phaedra and her protest did less still, when she realized.

"I'm not so spoiled, Poppy. Look at me, thinking of your tastes." he replied with some interest in the way he searched her face for signs of lies. The lack of such clues made him more adamant. When Phae slid herself closer to insert herself his other hand took her knee to stop her. He said without a sound that she should not come any further. The touch rewarded her when, in truth, she could not press on if she wanted to. The ball of his wrist was raised closer to Poppy and her contrary mouth.

"Isn't the point of the game exactly this, big sister?" He was testing where the lines were between them now, not rebelling. Where was she in the sickness he was drowning in? How much was his iron worth to her? When he got up on his knees he was able to bring those veins to be warmed by her breath, and his caressing hand higher on Phaedra's leg, on the inside, to summon the boiling ghost they'd played with before Poppy had come. Indulgent boy, gourmet.

He wanted Poppy to see his pulse, then, as she left a fog over his ready vessels. "You can give up and loose if you want to." he said with some condescension he'd learned from her. He wasn't sure if he was squeezing Phae's leg to make sure he could subdue her, or if he was simply letting all his impulses run, now. "Or you can go ahead and be a little brave, in front of Phaedra." He smiled lovingly at their friend. "She accepts me. She will accept you." It was probably true. "Won't you, Phae?" he asked, and had his hand was where it had been, before sister had knocked. Outside of the zipper, this time, but hugging her shape perfectly, still.

It would be hard for the stoic twin to answer Dion now, with the barely clad sinew on the underside of his forearm pushing against her mouth. He breathed as quietly as he could, offering something so sensitive, and having taken this so far. It was delicious, this straining from three hearts, spiced with the self-lies they kept, and sugared by the possibility of catharsis. He wanted to ruffle them both deeply, no matter the cost, belligerent as he was in his fatigue. How could such a profound craving not be destined to come out? Why shouldn't they bask in it?

It fell on big sister, then, to see his side of things, and expose Phae to new sensibilities, or stop him, somehow.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on April 18, 2017, 03:19:44 am
Poppy was something non-Newtonian; she bristled and grew more obstinate under that pressure. He should have boiled her like a frog, a slower and steadier slip. It would have been more akin to her taste, if he'd reflected on their past. She had always been the mightiest at back pedaling when she'd been leading the downward chase. Her superiority would have her in the lead, either way. Tonight, her eyes were thallium fire. "The point was to have a nice time. You're thinking of nobody but yourself." Low cutting sounds off that pretty pink tongue.
Her neck was stiff.
Phaedra froze when Dion's hand found her. He was playing all this so much further than he had to. It was welling panic in her throat that clashed with all the other feelings he spun. "Please stop it," Phaedra tried, and it was muffled behind all the tension between the twins. They strung tight as piano wire and left her reaching for keys. She, outside, and calling.
Poppy grit her teeth buy held all the edges from his skin. She could still taste her salt and his, the kitchen floor cold truths on her spine. His wrist against her lips, pressing insistence, was an incredible offense. Poppy had always loved her brother, but she'd never had as fatalistic a heart. Perhaps it was because she'd always been so sure she was better. She glanced at Phae, who seemed verging on tears. The girl was overwhelmed more than anything, Poppy was sure. Under normal circumstances, she'd be boxing Dionysus's ears for the lewd implications of his wandering hand. It made her angry that berating him that ways seemed mild for the present.
Phae made a wounded kind of sound. "I love you both. Of course I accept whatever... but you... why are you doing this?" She asked. Perhaps she'd realized he was taking advantage. That kind of clarity was easier when she knew Poppy would say it if she didn't figure it out herself. Dion would not have had the chance to reply before Phaedra shrieked, watching as Poppy's foot shot out from where she'd tucked it on the couch to impact the center of her brother's chest. It was not done gently. Rather, there was very little held back in the flex of that limb. It was fortunate that Poppy was not an exceptionally large or strong woman. Still, it was enough to startle and hurt.
Whether Dion fell back or only wavered, his sister would use the chance to shove herself away from his reach. She must have been a little desperate, angry and unsettled by the puls he'd pressed to her mouth. Poppy would not have resorted to that kind of behavior otherwise. She was rough when she grabbed Phaedra's wrist and yanked them both from the sofa. Dion's phone clattered from Phae's lap. "Can't trust him anymore, Phae. He's being an ass. Let's go." She snarled. "It's not a game when you play like that, Idiot."
Phaedra stumbled after Poppy, her arm still in the girl's grasp. She wasn't resisting as they went for the door, but she was looking back. The big dark eyes looked deeply disturbed, but it was apparent that it was out of worry for him still. She couldn't bring herself to see a wolf in her friend; Poppy had resisted which meant none of them were lost. Phaedra was too fast to want to throw herself back on the fire. She tore her gaze away from him when she realized Poppy was talking. "He's fucked up, Phaedra. Don't even think about going after him after this."
Poppy was looking at him too. If he'd wanted to become the seat of her own self-loathing, it seemed he was well on his way toward success.   
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on April 18, 2017, 10:42:01 am
He thought it was pleasant when Poppy looked back at him from the end of his arm, speaking hotly with cold reprimand. It put a heavy blanket on his heart, testing the strings that suspended it. He kept the contact light enough that she could speak, her reaction was the goal, but he’d still have some of her spit on top of the skin that barely dressed his blood. Phaedra, asking him in that voice to cease this venture into asinine - redly calling him – was attractive in another way. Oddly, though adoring, that made him feel worse than Poppy’s poison. Their friend’s question made him more adamant to fulfill this display, because it confirmed forever that he was being a villain.

He was about to explain to her innocence, present it with some damning thing that would make her distrust him, even appall her. It would be Sugar’s Dionysus, volume turned up, so he’d not be something made up for this point. But as he started speaking, and forgot about the most powerful of them, Poppy exorcised his air. Whatever that was ready in his fanged mouth, it croaked and fell short when he was forced back. A single cough that was also laughter, bitter, angry. There was a thought to grab the ankle of the leg that had thwarted him, and topple them both as they left. Wouldn’t it be delicious to hold them down? He still wanted revenge on his sister, but he felt enough like an asshole to be further paralyzed by the kick as Poppy took the purity in the room by the hand.

“I win then?” to send them off. He also wanted to stomp on himself. It would hurt more than either of them could imagine if Phae would listen to Poppy, and deem him entirely unreliable. He was perversely invested in that kind of pain. Another, then. “Don’t listen to her, Phae.” His arms were out, and he sat on his heels where they’d left him. It was not genuine surrender, and his hardened shoulders gave that away, plenty. “She’s just jealous of us. Come here. Let’s just be animals together. You’re the best I’ve ever tasted.” It was easier than he would have thought to make a hungry smile when he wanted to cry. His fingers, extended, crawled like spiders to enhance the uncomfortable totem he was being. He threw a quick eye on his sister, and wondered if the sentiment that she better not let go reached her.

He worried for their journey home, but remembered Poppy still  had all of the family’s gold in her coffers. She’d come here easily enough. After they’d gone, though, and he’d switched the room to darkness again, Dion went to the window, and sat underneath its infernal and azure rays, listening. If he heard menacing ruckus he’d barrel down. He slept as he’d intended, for an hour, alone and without rest. It was not as romantic as he’d imagined it. In the dark that was not so long from becoming morning, he was visited by a girl who’d given her last moments to his first. He thought he’d be undone if he thought of her completely, her last bed in the RV, and was able to save some kind of sanity, and not toss himself out the glass, by returning to how the two women must hate him. It was a dark balance, but it kept him together, well enough. When he thought he’d fall back into the uncomfortable slumber on the floor, he’d touch his fingertips to his sternum, and remember Poppy.


That kind of night has its costs, and he was not opposed to paying it. More interested eyes on him than usual, since he’d not worn prim when he arrived on father’s bike, this morning. Dismount while pulling the helmet and tearing the scarf, like a Clyde after shaking the cops. Dion sat there, back hunched slightly in his bench, with murder hanging onto his gaze, and fatigue on his eyelids. His hair, he’d taken care, was still on his forehead. Clothes from yesterday. He was another kind of image all in black. He didn’t leave his aura completely toxic, since he reckoned this kind of distant intrigue was the only affection he’d be getting in a while. The teacher sure was going on though, wasn’t she. He scribbled on his notepad, and tried to make it look as though he wasn’t thinking of organs and cartilage. If anyone would ever look at those papers later, they’d see a perfectly shaded shoulder with too many deep crosses over it.

He looked around for Sugar, and then smiled to himself. They’d promised him something for today, hadn’t they? In his own holiness he thought he should have even more now, that Sugar had marred Phae. Dion rested his hand on his other wrist, and didn’t notice he was carefully running the nail of his thumb over Poppy’s ghost, there.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on April 21, 2017, 08:35:18 pm
“Yeah. You win.” Poppy said with an expression that said he very much had not. The door was loud when it closed behind them, and even Phaedra seemed muted enough to contain any reticence she had about leaving him. In the car, Poppy’s knuckles were white gripping the steering wheel. “In case you were wondering, I’m not into whatever he’s into now.” She said.

Phaedra coughed and nodded and stared at the window, the neon and dark reflecting off her eyes. “But you’re like him, right?” She asked. She didn’t know how else to phrase it. “You want to—“

“I don’t want anything.” Poppy cut her off. “But yes, I guess I’m like him. If you have to put it that way.” She said. Phae flinched. The two friends were usually honest with one another, but only because Poppy did not speak about the things she didn’t want spoken about. It left no reason for lies. Here, this kind of honesty in this car, it was probably the same result Dion might have claimed he wanted. Whether it was true or not was another story. Neither girl was sure he’d wanted anything other than vile and blood with his wrist pressed to his sister’s mouth.

“Can I help?” Phaedra asked. Poppy shook her head.

“Just don’t talk about it. And be careful with Dion. He’s spoiled, like I said. Leave him alone until he comes to his senses.” Poppy said. Phaedra nodded, because Poppy sounded so certain that Dionysus would, in fact, come to his senses.

The two snuck into the house at half past three and slept together in Phaedra’s bed. Poppy would make an appropriate entrance tomorrow morning, bringing the car back from around the block. Phaedra did not fall asleep until long after Poppy’s breathing had slowed and deepened. Framed in the thin moonlight through Phae’s window, Poppy was Dion’s ghost in the room. The twins had always shared their prettiest features. Phaedra wondered what inside them was so different, that Poppy would grit her teeth and Dion would open his mouth wide, and she wondered why she was fated to be so apart from them.


Sugar was late. She slouched into the classroom, skirting the edge of the desks so as not to interrupt the lecture. It wasn’t because she was polite. It was just that she didn’t want to be talked to. She took a seat in the back—it was hers by default and nobody took it, even when she missed class. Like bloodlust could rub off on you like cooties. She looked a little surprised when she saw Dionysus there. That guy had missed class for a few weeks before this. People had talked about it. Sugar had talked about it, even, though she’d not admit it. Dion’s little gang of boys hadn’t had their leader. Some students had breathed easier. Others had worried for the absence of his annoyingly pretty face.

She snapped her bubblegum and pulled out a notebook. He must be feeling refreshed, after all those treats yesterday. Late night though. She wondered if his little dark-haired innocent had made it home safe. A small smile. That girl had tasted nice. Maybe her bones were littering whatever den Dion was living out of. She tucked a chopped strand of milky blonde behind her ear. Greedy one, that Deer. And more on the way, from what she’d seen tied down in Danny’s trunk this morning. 
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on April 22, 2017, 02:38:17 am
Dionysus was suddenly very uninterested in the world when Sugar came. He was too good for his sketch and then too good to lean on his hand. It ended in a dramatically loose hunch in his seat. Certainly he'd not seen her enter, thought there was very little other motion to compete for anyone's focus. She was a sugar cube in an already pale environment. Why should she matter at all. And still he could tell anyone the strung-out hue of the gum she chewed and which ear her hair hung on.

How could any of the girls, doing the same as him, ignoring artfully but pointedly, compare to his only kindred? If he hated her for tasting Phae, or if he liked her for knowing his sickness and thinking nothing of it, she was still leagues more important than anyone who'd seen his fall and thought it was becoming. He didn't mind the masks they tried on him, but he'd rather not involve himself too much either. He'd still be affluent if attention from blossoming hearts and the quims bound to them were worth money. But Sugar, she had an entire world of uses to him. Almost like a friend.

When they were asked to pair up, he moved swiftly, having heard nothing of the task. There is power in the way a boy wields his shoulders, and his were pumped straight up as he stood, hands on the desk. It sent to the flexing ankles and ready women that he was determined for someone else. He took his notes for show and cut beside a line of desks to stand to the side and behind Sugar, leaning against the wall. He remained like that until the noise of others finding their places had calmed.

Acquiring a chair was easy enough. The boy that frowned decided to squat by his preferred partner to challenging the taller and rougher Dionysus. Dion had been both rude and assumptive about waving him away. "I don't like what you did to my friend yesterday." Because I wanted to do it first. He sat down next to her, new throne and all. Placing the open notes over hers should be enough to suggest effective collaboration to the teacher. He looked her over and nodded, as though forgiving her or clearing her for his company. "Neat place though. Would you mind telling me more about our-- scene?" it was a rather public place to be asking, especially since he'd not been interested in anyone else since he'd started here and curious ears might be aimed, so he took care to cross his forearms on the surface between them and lean close to Sugar for the exchange. "I think you can be more fun than anyone here, at least."

He'd not forgotten Danny's promise, because he was still reeling from the price. Perhaps it was that insurance, and that well of continued satisfaction that gave him this confidence with her. He'd never been overly polite since they met, though, if not presented directly with his crimson weaknesses. Again, every other distraction in this room was agonizingly dull while she was relevant.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on April 22, 2017, 06:42:41 am
Sugar snapped her gum once, and then again, before she bothered to look in his direction. Slow tilt, red honey eyes. “Oh.” She said, and it was more in the shape of her mouth than any real sound. “Okay.” Because it didn’t matter what he liked. She’d taken the first bite. Didn’t that just mean he’d been too slow? There was a tiny spark in that stare, something compelling. Addicted to the microcosmic powers their world offered, and unapologetic about it. Really, they were probably built to get along well. Probably burn each other up on the way, too. At least it might be more even footing than Poppy gave him and less selfless than Phaedra offered. But Sugar didn’t know anything about that.

“You’re Dionysus, right?” she said, as if she didn’t know. Everyone in the school knew. But Sugar hadn’t met him before. Not Dion. Just that cocky shit Deerest. “Do you know my name?” she asked. There were equal chances he would or wouldn’t. His pack liked picking on her sort when they could and on the poor saps who couldn’t say otherwise when there was nothing else available. But Sugar had been left in the background of academy life because she made people uncomfortable. She was too comfortable with what she was. She refused to hide it. It was unlikely anyone had bothered to say her name to him directly. It sounded too much like a curse.

“Dulcinea.” She offered the answer before he could provide a guess. Maybe it was a curse. It was obvious she liked Sugar better. “Maybe you heard. There were rumors I stole samples from the anatomy lab.” She said. Popped a bubble. She didn’t say she hadn’t.

She laughed a little then, tossing her buttercream hair like it could fall over her shoulder, but there wasn’t enough length. “Our scene?” she asked. It was partially because he’d put them in the same group and partially because the Fox King’s ‘scene’ was hardly hers, pronouns notwithstanding. “Not exactly. Could be yours, I guess.” She said. If she was inclined to be honest about it, Sugar figured the Fox King was probably the sort of speed Deerest would like.

“I go to watch the parties sometimes, that’s all. They like me there.” She said. There was always somebody in the mood to feel like a gourmet. Sugar liked being anywhere she could feel like royalty. Even if it was somebody else’s kingdom. “Your friend was a happy coincidence, I guess.” She gave him a peculiar sort of smile. “If you’re the possessive type, maybe keep her away from the Fox Dens though.” It was all he was going to get out of her at school. Not because she minded the discussion, but because that was the way most people in the know talked about the Fox King’s underground.

Sugar pushed a finger against the side of her cheek, like she was trying to be theatrically contemplative, but dug her nail a little deeper than any acting would call for. “I’m surprised a little prince like you would bow far enough to be seen with a girl like me,” she said, without believing a word of it. She might have had a point, six months ago.

Today, they looked like they had planned to be partners. She, with her usual haphazard interpretation of the school uniform, and he in something rumpled under the school jacket like he’d slept in it. If she had to guess, he had. Somehow they both seemed like they’d been born to make that dishevel vogue. He had his cut pretty, and she had all her alien. She dropped her hand and left a tiny pink arc behind. It welled red. She was still grinning. “Are you hungry enough for later? It’s better not to waste.”     
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on April 22, 2017, 07:46:32 pm
Two bubbles of laughter came undone low in his throat, when she wasn't bothered by his disapproval of her taking of Phae. Audacious peasant. But he knew she didn't have much stock in his opinion. Right now he was willing to let that be her charm. She wasn't lacking in other things to appeal to him, though. "I am." he gave her. And aren't you glad that I am? Said the inevitable curl of one corner of his lips. Dulcinea was the kind of name you'd find here, though rather high up, for creativity. "Sugar's better." Dulcinea has no use to me, though pretty. He wondered about the samples, if she still had them, and it flooded his teeth behind his lips.

Not much information for an overarching understanding of his condition. It wasn't because she wasn't knowledgeable or even withholding. He'd not asked the right question. Transparency was good. He'd paid a lot of money for transparency in others. He also wanted them to like him at-- the Fox Dens? Another social ladder.  It was a braver boy with Sugar this morning, because he'd darkly treasured the bile Poppy had spit at him during the night. He'd never been far from exploring the world of the hungry, and now his own greed had put him in a position to believe there was nothing to return to, anyway. Like all who would say they were noble, Dionysus was a skillful smith of excuses to follow his moods. He was excited at the prospect of returning to a red wonderland, and she was saying he might, in her advice not to bring sweet Phae. Or that's how he heard it.

"I am the possessive type." he said and thought about it. It was true enough in any aspect of his life. His concentration spiked when her finger pushed into her skin. If she read his pupils that would be clear. "Don't sell yourself short, low little girl." he encouraged like only a dangerously inflamed ego could. "What's the use of owning the school if I can't play how I want in it?" Not on paper, perhaps, but it would be hard to point at another king around here, since he had the adoration, and practiced the cruelty of one.

He was so confident, or so negligent of the other student's opinions, that he leaned in to give Sugar a peck on the cheek, relieving the little wound of its moist. Many wouldn't have seen the blood anyway, and would be more prone to gossip over the physical endearment itself. When his head drew back he looked at her face with admiration, for having been gifted the attention of his lips. Dion didn't even consider it an audacity, or that she hadn't expressively allowed him. What a dreamy thing that lived over his tongue all of a sudden. He wanted more, of course.

"I think from now on I will always be hungry." he replied and smiled much like a lover before looking down to draw more in his notes.

When the class ended, and it did so soon since the pairing was an introduction and not for substantial work, yet, he took her hand. To some of the hearts that beat his name as a chorus, the two made miserable sense, like Dion had found something they'd all not considered. Because out of all the pretties none had thought of Sugar as competition, with danger looming around her, and her quiet. Even the ones who should be wiser, nursing themselves still from his selfish, violent intimacy, had thought he liked prim and softly perfumed things. Perhaps that was why they were forgotten and Dulcinea got to hold his hand. Or had his hand forced upon hers.

It was inevitable that he'd run into Caspian and the merry lords. At a distance the would-be brother looked ecstatic to see him. Sweet boy. A handful of prospective leaders of their school's social tiers strode to meet him. Dion might have looked keen too, Sugar in hand. But he didn't slow when he entered their numbers on the way, free hand shoving into the shoulder of a nameless boy. At least he afforded the aghast Caspian the courtesy of turning without stopping as they passed.

"But you haven't been here in forever." Caspian tried. Poppy was good with her secrets, but even he'd picked up in her that she was worried. The boy also felt a bit abandoned. Dionysus could easily justify any rudeness he wanted to extent with Caspian's connection to his beloved sister. Yes. Today he was jealous out of convenience.

"Fuck me, right?" Dion explained in a chipper tone. "See you soon, brother. Say hello to Poppy for me if you see her." If he met Phaedra or Poppy herself, things might not be so easily brushed off.

A few turns later, he let go of Sugar to put hands in his pockets. The crowd was dwindling and with it the curiosity for the new, disheveled prodigal son. He smiled at her in the light coming in from a big window, and thought that if she stepped into it too, she'd disappear. "When is later?" he asked, with his shining new addiction. "I think we could both go for a little something." He was being reckless, but he'd also established himself as someone who might do whatever he pleased. If Sugar had the mind to, she might see it as a new freedom, or a nuisance.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on April 23, 2017, 05:35:07 am
Sugar shrugged. “My parents were in to Don Quixote. Makes sense, I guess.” She didn’t seem attached to the name either and didn’t bring up how. When he thought to bask in his place above her, she was not impressed. That was fine, because she was fairly certain Dion could care less about impressing her. In this world, that was to be expected and in their other she had enough worshippers that he would not be missed. She flicked the wad of bubblegum over her lower lip, teeth clasped on one sticky edge, and then reeled it in again with her tongue.

It was another story when he put his lips to her cheek. Bastard. He really didn’t seem to grasp the concept of asking for permission. She wondered if that extended to the pretty bunny he’d taken away last night. Had he strung her over the rails of some bed and taken without asking then too? She pulled away from him with the sort of annoyed disgust only a much more beautiful creature should have been afforded. Someone with the standard blade and elegance. Poppy, maybe. “Annoying.” Was all she said, because the way his hungry eyes had flexed for her red had been an even enough exchange. Still, her should have asked. “I mean. Have a little class.” And then she laughed, and it wasn’t even scornful, because it was a ridiculous thing for her to say in that secondhand uniform. Even Phaedra had been given the luxury of unworn clothes.

When the bell rang, she pushed his notepad off of her own with the butt of her pencil, like his items were vaguely distasteful to her. When they stood to leave, she was aware of too many eyes on her. It was strange, because the hostility felt familiar but the openness of it did not. She was used to averted stares, not soul searching with vitriol. She didn’t seem bothered by it. Scrappy girl. Instead, she drew more ire from their onlookers when she was visibly unhappy with Dion’s hold on her hand. “Why are you touching me?” she asked, before they pressed through his old cadre of young buck aristocrats.

She gave every one of the boys defiant stares, whether they deserved it or not. Like a feral cat, she was happy to swipe first and ask questions later. Nowhere in that equation was an apology on the table, which was well enough. Every one of that group was baffled by Dionysus’s present company. “Don’t tell me you’ve been slumming all this time.” Armand called after him. He sounded genuinely pissed. They were so far above girls like that. Dionysus was supposed to know that in his bones. “Be careful, or she’ll probably eat your cock for lunch and leave you without a damn thing to show for it!” he yelled a little louder. That brought back the usual mood. The other gawkers pulled their stares. Stepped back into line. Reminded themselves that Dulcinea was their ambassador boogie man.

“I guess he’s not wrong, sort of.” Sugar remarked. “Not your cock, though. That’s disgusting.” She said, like Armand had suggested she’d unapologetically eat a bowl of beets or something. She tugged a little at her hand, testing his grip. He seemed intent to keep it, so she huffed and sidled on after him as if it were a great favor to follow along. When they finally stopped, she looked cross in the same way she’d looked cross when he’d first wandered up to Danny’s car. Nothing personal, just bothered.

“Later is whenever you get in touch with Danny and he gives you a time.” Sugar said. She probably could have mustered an estimate for him, but it seemed prudent to make a point of separation there. She didn’t work for Danny. It wasn’t her business to play secretary for his clients. It wasn’t her plan to play secretary for this idiot either.

Her head tilted a little too far with his suggestion. Blinking amber in the sun, her long lashes looked dirtier than her hair but might as well have been translucent by the window. Sugar looked genuinely confused. “What are you talking about?” she said at last. It was caught somewhere in between wondering why Dionysus would ever apply the phrase ‘both of us’ to himself and Dulcinea, and wondering why the Deer thought Sugar had any desire to satisfy him in any way. Still, in the end, the question wasn’t a no. Which meant Sugar was at least a little curious too.

Phaedra turned the corner in time to see Sugar caught in the edges of window sunlight and Dion in her company. She hesitated, frightened for a moment, and pressed her palm to the place both those beasts had sampled her. Then, she remained frozen because of the things Poppy had said last night and their direct competition with her desire to go to him. When they made eye contact, she’d remember her feet in a sudden rush and cross just close enough to give him an apologetic smile. “It’s good to see you back at school.” She said as she went by.   
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on April 23, 2017, 05:40:41 pm
He'd looked at their hands when she asked. A little tighter squeeze when he winked at her. "Oh, this? I guess you're just having a good day. Enjoy it." At the base of all his sides, he had a measure of charm. It was unthinkable that he'd be raised without it.

Dion did not have so much class, though - as she'd said about his theft of the raspberry crescent on her cheek - when Armand thought it would be fitting to be overly crass. It earned Armand a bastard thing between a smirk and a grin, that Dion famously saved for victims of their hazing, when those unfortunate students were at his shoes. A little promise that Armand, despite their earlier camaraderie, or perhaps because of it, had earned himself a dark reprisal but not verbal retort, which was a rather solid verdict. If Dion did not feel some kind of commonality with Sugar for their tastes, he was still of the opinion that his gaggle of boys should think better than to berate anyone he was walking with. It was so rarely he'd take the corridors hand in hand. Not even Poppy or Phaedra would see such familiarity.

"I'll have you know it is splendid, my cock." he said and looked at their hands again when her's saw about early release. An adorable notion. Sugar was strong and larger than life, maybe, but not in this sense. It was also impossible that he let her go before he was satisfied. He was becoming fond of her disapproving look. "Then I will wait for Danny excitedly." he declared at the tail of her information. It was comfortable to speak so openly about a world he'd denied for so long. It had not been a lie, either. Though his body was still strong from yesterday, his soul and tongue were famished for more.

She was a lovely spectacle in the light. Her angularity was actually very flattering to her, from the details that were not obliterated by this marriage to the mostly unfiltered sun. Her confusion was a nice compliment to it all and he enjoyed it like he would during any courtship. So he shrugged as though he knew everything and made his lips small, favoring one side, as though she wanted to know everything, too. "Aren't you peckish?" he replied, but realized he'd unintentionally been too open with his meaning. He supposed he didn't mind that kind of thing, either, despite Armand's warning. "Nothing filling, just something for the taste buds." he suggested and then looked her over as though she was built of samples. With his new and old cravings, wasn't everyone? How was Sugar in matters of the flesh, if the matter wasn't exclusively eating? Was she a ravenous lover, too? Maybe that would be too obvious. All those considerations were plain on his face.

It wasn't a complete loss of confidence that bent his gait and turned his torso when he saw his friend and maid. Bolstering and that other persona simply had no real place when he was being honest with Phae, and when surprised, he was either that, or incredibly unpleasant. It was a subtle change in terms of energy expenditure, but a theatrical shift in cadence for Sugar to see. He smiled at Phaedra as she passed and almost promised he'd see her at home later. He remembered their new roles and the last things he'd said to hurt his own image. Right now he wanted to take it back, but thought better of it. "It is good to see you never left." What a disgraceful combination of words. She was gone too soon for him to hope to mend it.

When his eyes, Poppy's eyes in this brightness, rolled back to Sugar, they were a little harder. It might be a joke, though, pointing out that the passing woman was exactly someone the ivory shadow was not allowed to fraternize with. It really did bother him that she'd been Phaedra's first. He should have been thinking that Phaedra should have none at all, instead.

"How do you usually get through the day, Sugar?" he asked. "Without revealing yourself?" Perhaps he was of especially poor restraint. It could be as it is with any evil person, that he'd simply found his favorite sin - it had to be a sin, the way he practiced it - and loved it more than morality or other people. He studied her then, looming over her to see her in a few different ways. She was the most interesting when his body gave her shade, but she was the most beautiful when her buckwheat honey eyes floated by themselves as the day rays magicked her skin away. "I think it's hard." he admitted and sighed with complete honesty.

Dion was actually more invested in her answer than he let on. As a leader of the boys hungry to prove their cruelty, and thereby loyalty, he'd been expected to weed out suitable targets. His hunting grounds had been gym hour. What a glorious program this school had. Dion would trip friends during soccer, or move with the running girls to set them out of balance in a way a crush can, to see them fall and scrape up their perfect skin, so he could see who's eyes would flare, or who'd look away reluctantly. That was his next class. He wasn't sure accidents like that would be amusing to him anymore. They'd be beautiful.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on April 26, 2017, 05:52:22 pm
Sugar sighed when she seemed to catch his meaning; an uncharacteristically naïve sort of reaction out of the white snake that had coiled so purposefully around his Phaedra just the night before. She shook her head. “You have no self-control.” She said bluntly. “Predators are stupid when they frenzy, you know. Sharks and shit.” Sugar suggested. She reached to touch her collarbone, a fine and delicate ridge glimpsed through the open buttons of her uniform shirt. “I don’t really trust stupid.”

She was quiet when Phaedra appeared. He’d not eaten her up then. For her part, Phaedra had flinched a little at Dion’s response. Not that she’d expected an apology or wanted one, nor had she expected some sudden erasure of the tangle they’d snared. Still, it felt like he was trying to remind her that he’d changed in ways she hadn’t been able to keep up with. That Poppy was close behind. That Phaedra was not in his world and couldn’t be now. He’d rejected what she’d had to offer, at least verbally. Or had he forgotten? Phae’s steps seemed loud as she disappeared down the steps.

“Ah.” Sugar said, when Phae had gone. “You’re a strange one.” She thrust her hands upward, arching her spine to stretch. Her shirt hiked high to expose the pale flesh above her skirt’s waist band. “Anyway, you haven’t figure out how to ask for permission yet, so I’m not in the mood to play your games.” She said, letting her arms drop and shrugging. “Maybe someday, if you’re ever less of a brat.” It sounded oddly affectionate. Or, at least, it didn’t sound like she found him totally uninteresting.

A yawn, wad of pink bubblegum balance on her pink tongue. “You make it sound like I try to hide myself.” She answered him. If he thought about it, he should realize she had a point. Dulcinea had a reputation that she’d never denied. That’s why she’d never been bullied, really. She was too uncomfortable for polite society, even when it was ugly. Dulcinea was much better to ignore. “Honestly, it’s easiest when you don’t care. Stop trying.” She paused and looked, for a brief moment, genuinely sympathetic. “Maybe not for you. Your family name comes with some expectations, I guess. You’re probably supposed to be more like your sister, right? So, maybe I don’t have good advice.”

There was a harder glint to her ocher eyes then. “Of course, it doesn’t help that you built a kingdom in this school on beating down every ghost of the hunger.” She tipped her chin so that she was staring at the ceiling. “Well. Whatever. It’s more like sex and less like a drug, if that makes you feel any better.” She said.

“Can’t get enough after your first time… all that shit you keep repressed until your hormones win out and the floodgates open.” Sugar laughed. “And then it stays good, but you’re not a slave to it after a while… you probably crave it, now that you know, but you’re in charge. Otherwise, you’re just gross and depraved,” she hummed. “And really, it’s better to get your shit together. Nobody wants to get adventurous with some kid that can’t handle himself.” She smirked. “On the other hand, once you’re good, people beg, right?” There was something to the way she said it and glanced in the direction Phaedra had gone. “Everyone is a little hungry, one way or another.”


Poppy wasn’t at school. She’d talked with Phaedra about what had happened last night, before she’d shown up at the city apartment door. Phae had been light on the details, but that was more than enough for Poppy. She could guess at what was in the gaps. Importantly, she’d gotten the phrase “Fox Den” out of Phaedra. Now, she was in the woods propped up against her rich kid’s Rover staring at Danny and his piece of shit on wheels.

“You’re Danny, right?” She asked. Danny was looking at her funny. That girl reminded him an awful lot of Deerest. The thought made him glance back at the trailer behind him. That kid’s purchase was inside, bound and gagged. Druggy, but her skin was still good and she had long eyelashes and freckles on her nose. She was better than most people got.

“That’s what they tell me, yea.” Danny replied. Poppy folded her arms across her chest.

“Let’s say I know your business and I have some questions.” She said. Straight to the point, as usual. “I want information. I don’t care about what’s in that trailer. I don’t want to know, actually, so you can stop acting shifty.” She said. She might have cared more, if she’d known whose goods were inside. Danny chuckled and pulled at his beard.

“Feisty.” He said. Poppy narrowed her eyes. “I mean, alright Lady, kind of depends on what you’re asking.” Danny scowled. Kids these days.

“Tell me what a Fox Den is. Tell me who’s behind them.” Poppy said. Danny laughed.

“Ah, shit. Little Lady, you don’t want to know that any more than you want to know about what’s in that trailer.” He said. Hard stare. Like Sugar, Danny didn’t really have to hide. That face said he knew Poppy wouldn’t cause him trouble either way—if she did, she’d be next in the trailer.

Poppy stood up straight. “I’ll make it worth your while. Name your price.”   
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on April 27, 2017, 08:49:49 am
She was right. He only ever indulged in controlling himself when he clearly saw its use for contentment. He played games for other satisfactions. This blooded call was new, so he'd not formed a relationship with it more than a drowning would the water in their lungs. Eventually, maybe he'd try to be a mermaid like Sugar. Sharks and shit. "Stupid still has feelings." he reminded, as though she'd given him a profound insult, and her assessments mattered deeply to him.

And there stupid had to stand, while Phae flitted by as fae flit by. His old life in her pressed uniform, still lingering around the new carcass he'd become, bustling with other things in his whirlwind autopsy for everyone to see. Decay in his hair and rot in his eyes, from a trip to the forest, a walnut shell, a crimson banquet and a game of truth and dare. He wanted to go back for Phaedra, because he didn't want her submerged with him. In the sure hammering of her heels, as they became quieter, he heard his own longing for a Dionysus that had never been Deerest.

To comfort him, or so he would accept it, Sugar danced for him to the everyday rythm she found, filtered through her own unschackled impulses. She was free in a pleasing way. A promise too, with exclusive skin framed in the used clothes that was her trademark, here, at school. All maybes were his, he'd been taught. Everyone wanted him to beg, was how he heard it, even the girl that had just come and gone, leaving her safe heart and innocence in the air. Ask for forgiveness, Dion, ask for permission. He was going to learn it, how else could he survive, but he wanted to be a bastard in this new age he was coming upon, like all children are. If his lips were red from nonconsensual blood when he blinked into autonomy and maturity one day, wouldn't he want to have acted out? All real conformity comes from a base of satisfaction. Mother had explained to him that he was responsible for his own morals, if his tongue was so sharp, since he'd not always find someone to convince him of the right thing. Her premise stood on a theory of his good heart. "I'll look foward to that, then." to when I am the right amount of brat.

Her answer pleased him. That was how he wanted to live. He was loosing the ivory levels where he'd grown up. He wanted it to be for something beautiful, like his beastly self. She reminded him quickly that he might still want to remember the life he was letting go of, that perhaps her advice was not for him. Couldn't he be both? Clean and tailored, grimy and full. Ah, but he knew what people thought of that. If jealousy was a mist arond him, always, before, then it would be a casket now. Secrecy, in everything. " Maybe I will be more open about this." He gave.

He laughed, amused at his own hipocricy from her mouth. "You insolent little whore." he rewarded, for her honesty. Yes, he'd done that. And he still felt all those weak gullets he'd exposed and triggered to their own cravings were lesser people. How he'd mixed them up until they snapped at other limbs. There had to be quality in those with hunger, too. He was high up, he knew. His head tilted, and he'd moved closer to her, watching her and her idioscynracies and listening to her explain his current existance with something he understood.

He would adore to weild this like he did the other, better promoted chemical draw. Another industry, wans't it? He should have seen it. The thought of control - like pulling their hair and throwing them aside to have them come back, pleading - made him weak with imagined frustration. "So I need to be less to have more." he tasted the concept on his lips and swallowed it slowly, painfully. "Ah, what a Burden." he complained and reached out for her suddenly, claw hand stopping by her cheek, never touching. "May I?" he asked, and would only dress the side of her face in his palm, lover-like. He’d smile like he’d proven himself, then.

"I don't like it much, but I like widening my options." better to have many willing lovers than to have only the ones you hold down hard enough. It should tell her what kind of desires he usually wrestled with. To his defense, not all of the ones that struggled did it because they hoped to get free, and none of them told on Dionysus. Rough boy with soft skin. "It's not that I don't think I'd be formidable if I was polite, Excuse me miss, may I tak your hand, I am sorry sir, my familly took your land, but I never thought I should have to." because Sugar wasn't dear to him, she could be paper, like her skin suggested, bleached, where he could write and erase his confessions. "There are people in your life, I assume, that you allow certain freedoms you keep reserved from others. Or are you motherless? I guess I don’t know about you. Just imagine a common family unit." he shrugged and raised the lapel of his jacket and stuck his hands in his pockets in such a fluent and factly manner she would know he'd done it regularly for a long time. Comfort or twitch. "I could be that to anyone, right?" Some things are larger than protests by design.

Dion leaned in and pressed his shoulder to hers, to make her follow him as he started walking again. They were late for the next class, so the corridor was rather private. The few that did wander passed did notice the pair more accutely, though. "But I suppose I'm not, yet, and I'll make corrections to earn the decadence I deserve." But he was already thinking about the hazing gauntlet, where individuals newer to this than him wouldn't know to say no. In many cases, he could have the ones that weren't even afflicted. Money and position sew mouths shut. "To be honest, Sugar, I might have been wrong to leave this place." At least he could tell her. A throwaway thing, this conversation. It made Sugar so charming to him, suddenly. "It's like you say, comparing it to fucking. This is my kingdom, whether I want to be kind or a sopping glutton." A little smile at the thought, happy but mild, as though he was picking out colors for fabrics in his next suit.

“You weren’t always this apex thing.” He stated and looked at her. If she’d come along, and didn’t keep him standing there, while her habits and motions unfolded into another chapter of careless being, they’d be headed for the connection to the gym, in which case she would be an apparition between the windows. “Your… wisdom came step by step, too, no matter how steep the steps. How was it for you?” he asked and spotted a girl who’s plum lower lip and champagne breath he could remember. She saw him first and smiled, as people at the door do, but then she discovered Sugar, which frowned the lower petal. Dion flicked her eye on his way and it came with a shrill sound and then crying as the girl fell down on her knees, nursing her socket. He put his hand back in his pocket. The eye had been denser than he’d thought it would be. She’d be pretty again in an hour or two, he estimated. He was trying to be familiar with Sugar, it would seem. Perhaps this was the beginning of a friendship. “I would like to know if I’m doing well or if I’m doing exceptionally.” Then again, he was still a boy born with a crown.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on May 02, 2017, 07:38:04 pm
Danny stared at her hard and let the silence stretch between them. Poppy was steady. Green eyes, clear intentions. Finally, he let out a laugh like a wild dog’s bark and shrugged. “I mean, sure, whatever. I’ll tell you what you want to know. Or, what I know, at least.” He pulled out a cigarette and offered one in her direction. Poppy didn’t smoke, but she took one anyway. “You don’t have to pay. I’m not the kind of guy to accept money for getting a girl in trouble.” He said. He laughed at that too, and Poppy stared past him at the trailer. It was probably a joke, but she hoped it wasn’t.

“Okay. Tell me about the Fox Dens.” Poppy repeated. Danny nodded.

“They’re safe houses, sort of. Spaces for people to indulge. They hide in plain sight, like the mob. Hungry people are no better than sharks when there’s blood in the water, so it’s not like anybody who knows would go in unless they wanted to be there.” Danny lit his cigarette, and passed Poppy the lighter. “That’s to say that you shouldn’t go looking unless you’re ready for what you’ll find inside.” Poppy wondered what Phaedra had seen and what it meant that her friend hadn’t told her. “The host of all those spots is kind of an enigma. He’s a modern myth in the city, honestly. Some people claim to know him or to have seen him, but nobody knows if he’s ever even been to one of his own parties.” Danny shrugged.

“Nobody knows?” Poppy asked. That seemed unlikely, but Danny nodded and stuck to his story.

“We all just call him the Fox King. Honestly, he might not even exist. But religions need gods and he’s the center of the community in the city. People that fall in far enough end up in the Dens so they don’t have to be alone—and there you’re very not alone. Let loose. Go wild. Make friends. Or not.” Danny took a long drag and then pulled a wrinkled receipt out of his pocket. “You got a pen?” he asked.


Sugar did not seem impressed, staring at him as his hand hovered beside her cheek. “You may.” She said after a second longer than necessary. When he looked pleased with himself, she rolled her eyes. It was strangely childish of them both, really. “I don’t really care what you like, but I presume you’re at least bright enough to have figured that out.” She answered him. If he saw himself as a gift, she had severe reservations.

He had a point, she supposed. In the way that rich blood could make points out of anything, really. Sugar didn’t have that luxury by birth, but she’d made it far enough on the quality of her muscle. Danny was candid about it, to those who asked—and enough did, curious about the strange faded thing that ghosted around like self-imposed royalty.

If Hunger was an addiction, Sugar was a gateway drug… or maybe it was the other way around. Enough mouths had fallen to her like she was some bloody prophet. Her blood was sweeter, her skin softer. The muscle on her bones was gourmet. And maybe she took your finger or left a hole over your ribcage, but she always had more to give the next go ‘round. She scarred, but she also healed. A little white witch peddling treats for praise. Maybe it was real, maybe it wasn’t. It was hard to parse out whether she was special or she’d just risen to the heights of commanding herd mentality. She seemed to get bored with it, though. Dion wasn’t as new as he might have felt. She disliked him, but that was why she humored him. A challenge to her ego and she cultured both sadism and masochism in spades.

“I’m motherless.” Sugar took the option deftly and it wasn’t entirely true. “So I reserve what I like for whomever I like.” She said. Coquettish when it struck her, it seemed. Sugar followed along by the pressure of his shoulder without any particular resistance. It seemed like she didn’t hate his company. So, maybe that was something in her mind. Gracing him with her compliance.

“Nobody really deserves decadence. They just earn it anyway.” Sugar told him with a sidelong glance. “Rules are constructs. They’re worth following to get what you want. It doesn’t make you any better, it just means you know how to flatter.” She said. Her mentality in a nutshell, then. She wasn’t so hard to understand and she didn’t pretend to be. Sugar was just Sugar, Dulcinea or otherwise. There was no separation.

She laughed at him when he pried at her genesis. “Royalty is born, whether it realizes it or not,” she said, and it was very possible she was mocking him. A joke, then. Like they could be friends if he could learn her or cared to. It was apparent she wasn’t the type to judge what motivated him. Sugar did not pause, rather, Sugar did not seem to notice when Dion impressed that small violence on the other girl. If it had been on her behalf, she did not seem to realize it. But that girl was not him and Sugar didn’t trace connections here and there. Sugar was the center of her own universe. If Dion was presently in her orbit, that was fine. What orbited Dion was minutia. “Really, I guess it’s like that saying? Necessity is the mother of invention?” She shrugged. “Or something like that. I think I was always Hungry.”

Sugar held her hand out in front of her, light from the window tracing purple streams beneath her skin. “And that kind of thing is better when you’re not alone. Like fucking, as you say, again.” She had fed and was fed and learned to be special. Now she taught other people to see it in her. That was all. “It’s not really wisdom. Just practicality, to make other people want you. But, you know that, right? It’s not hard to be above people, then. You know that too.” She laughed and gave him a peculiar look. It was fine for him to find his way to the top, it seemed. She just intended to see him struggle to rise above her. For fun, maybe.   
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on May 03, 2017, 12:52:21 pm
Dion liked the feel of her skin, certainly, when she allowed it. He understood she was a delicacy, then. Something to aspire to. Of course, there was the dream of simply forcing himself on her too. It was an impulse Danny and Sugar and anyone who had become involved in Dion’s development ought to diffuse. Or he would grow into a monster unfit for their garden of beasts. He was intently quiet for the amount of time it would have taken him to say I See when she admitted with his word that she was a child without maternal anchor. How lovely, to hear Dulcinea utter it. He should try to make her say it again, sometime.

He could agree when she presented a theorem akin to his inclination to climbing social structures. “So practical.” It was both congratulatory for probably getting what she wanted often, and an insult, because for lovely things to be fine to him, they must have the flaw of sentimentality. Sugar might hear it, or she might not, or she might and ignore it – he was sure the result would look the same.

The answer that came about her story, the preface to her current self, was as elusive as it was satisfying. Practical girl, maybe, but those were flouncy words to respond with. Always hungry. “I like you more for that.” He turned to her fully while still waking, then. Budding lad, attending to his crush, for anyone that saw them. Dion always thought his approval was like rubies for the poor. Sugar liked other reds, of course. He was reminded of his own new taste for other riches when the sunlight invaded her hand, and let him know she had sapphire wealth underneath her alabaster outer. It made him want her like he wanted good things. It was not as debase as the girl in the RV. Like eating a rose. He reached for it with his own hand, “May…” he was about to ask, but then smiled and pulled his fingers back. She was impressive, but he wasn’t sure he should commit to something as advanced as Sugar, yet. Can’t have foie gras between breakfast and lunch. He was tried on his willingness to follow that rule when she looked so delicate in the day.

“I’ll make people want me.” He said and touched his own cheekbone. “It’s been happening for a while, anyway.” Vanity, assurance – he was made from these things. Sometimes the children in the pit snapped their teeth at him. He’d taken it as a compliment then, too. The pair came to the corridor which had to finalize his decision to attend the world of running, a sweaty place ruled by the man with the whistle. He would go, but didn’t know if she would, so he stopped at the large mouth that would lead him to a chasm of tile and metal boxes – an arena for his cruel games – only to expel him to the busy outside, later.

“Sugar. Do you hold everything as dear as the hunger? Or is it particular to you. You’ve revealed yourself to be practical, so I think I should assume you’re like that with anything.” It was odd, all of that, but he continued. “Again, with fucking, would it be completely like the hunger to you?” good thing no one was there to hear, right then. “Or are some things closer to your delicious heart while others have lower moral consideration? Like my comfort is paramount to me, but other’s don’t concern me, overly.” He was being kind, seemingly, maybe adorable the way he looked ruffled but spoke on his toes and hands behind his back. He might have looked like a Victorian suitor, with too much adoration in him to be entirely proper. It was morbid, though, and not at all handsome in the conventional way, that he was basically asking her if it would be the greatest transgression to force himself on her whenever he decided to do so, or if a greater wrong would be taking flesh with his teeth. In the end, he was asking her if the lust for one fleshward thing could be lesser punished if pursued than another. Some girls guard their intimacy less than their blood.


And the receipt would take Poppy to a particular place. The movement would know it as a boutique for their cravings. Yesterday, as all successful hole-in-the-walls, it had hosted a soiree for it familiars. The better furniture and the hiding places had been evacuated to give patrons space to frolic. Before the cleaning, the rooms were now a wasteland of tell-tale splatters and vacant hearts. Among the victims of passion, there was a boy named Irus. He was a high son of some wealthy entity, a last name that should awaken awe, but here he was dirty with his own spill. He felt low, clutching his arm that was as bare as his chest. In the fray, he’d kept his jeans on.

“Here, have some.” Dae said to Irus, and Irus looked his blue eyes up. Dae had the shoulders of a tree, greedy for the sun and the waist of a neglected stem. It was all told subtly through the ragged hoodie, black, once. Irus looked into the hollow of the hood and then at the bucked with the spoon in it. Wasn’t this enough like a war, with his brethren moaning around him, and the dried, real life throwing copper spirit into the air? Dae got down on his knees and there were yellow eyes in the darkness in the night crown of the tree. “Do you want forgiveness, Irus? Or do you want relief?” he asked.

“I want to not have done yesterday. I feel guilty.” But it was not such a heavy confession from parched lips, crusted with Emilia, who was still alive, somewhere. Dae laughed and when the face moved, some daylight revealed sharp features and an absurdly red mouth.

“For what, Irus? You weren’t you. You were being worn by something, and even then your actions were beautiful. A painter doesn’t ask to null the result of his sacred inspiration.” Dae explained as he took the hand off the wound on Irus’s arm. “Don’t you think what you’re feeling is a new element, eager to rise from the ground to play in our times?” he continued as he took a spoon of the water and poured it over the prints of teeth left on Irus’s skin. Irus thought it felt like a cold, welcome drug, numbing and tingling and soft. “Oh, you like it? I have an angel, she’s just like you, but when she eats and someone eats of her, she heals. It’s because of her salts, that she produces from her eyes. It’s a favor that I take the crystal clusters from her, and then, when it’s in water, it can help other angles like you, Irus.”

Irus felt a surge of energy and saw the shape of incisor cuts shrink until they were only smarting, red stars. “Are you the king?” he asked, and sat up straight against the wall, trying to see into the hood. If so, this was monumental. “Are you the Fox?” But Dae was moving on to Emilia, pouring water on her thigh with a high scoop. She’d not kept her jeans on.

“I am caretaker of the element here in our city.” Dae said as Emily moaned in relief.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on May 04, 2017, 04:38:45 am
Sugar yawned and covered her mouth in a polite gesture that seemed wasted on a creature like her. It suited, in that way. “There are a lot of ways to be wanted.” She said. That made sense from the always Hungry girl. She wanted to eat and be eaten. Not everyone traveled the same road. She had often felt it was enlightened of her to do so. With that sense, she was resistant to sharing with just anyone. The languid she slipped into now was a noticeable defense. She wasn’t deterring his ambitions, but she wasn’t going to encourage them either. Another player on the stage and that was all she was willing to acknowledge, for now. He had a better back story than most, at least.

“Do you know when you first felt Hungry?” she asked suddenly. The first thing she’d seemed to care about knowing. Sugar without a mother, who’d been happy to say she’d always craved the meats of mankind, might have wondered if there was some common thread between them. She wasn’t sure if she’d dislike him more or less for his answer. If he’d known for long and tortured the pitiful starving still, it was both godlike and terrible. That was insulting, but she’d never minded being insulted like that. If he’d just blossomed, it made him disgustingly ambitious.

He had his questions too, more of them, and the corners of her lips curled impishly at the mouth of the gymnasium. “You have this weird idea that the two are different to me.” She said. It was maybe a little sad. But Dulcinea had no suitors in this town. Sugar hadn’t many whose slobbering mouths could keep from snapping. Certainly, there had been the sweet souls who had thought to contain themselves. Thought, perhaps, that Sugar could be loved without knowing the taste. They had been wrong, because no sweet soul had been forced to learn real restraint. The goodness of their abysmal hearts had carried them into the guilty throes of blood and sinew and not realized they’d never really known asceticism. 

“If I met the sort that could fuck without their teeth, maybe I could tell you whether or not I cared.” Sugar told him with a shrug and an arch to her brows that said she did not count him among that ‘sort.’ It was probably a fair assessment, or at least a fair assumption. She waved off the misplaced eager he had in his toes and turned away from him, thumbs hooked into the waist of her skirt. “I suppose I’ll see you around, Deer.” She said. Dulcinea was not a frequent participant in gym classes.


Poppy stood outside with the crumpled paper in her hand and a hard set to her lips. She’d been very sure of herself, driving into the city. Now that she was here, she wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted to do about it. It had been easy to go after Phae and Dion by moonlight, when her reflection had seemed grittier and she’d been knocking on her own family’s door. Danny had said this was supposed to be the sort of place bloody socialites went. That meant that anybody who cared to the Fox King should drift through.

She took a deep breath and rapped on the door.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on May 04, 2017, 03:25:03 pm
First hunger. He remembered it every time he smelt Poppy’s hair. Their secret bonding. Or maybe it was the flowers he’d pressed into their bodies, Phae and sister, until the pollen perfume mingled with the iron aroma into adolescent confusion. He was being incredibly forthright with Sugar, so the truth of those thoughts flitted over the valley of his tongue before he caught it. Hah. That wasn’t his truth to give away, not the one he’d shared with Poppy at least. The flowers, then. “I used to put bouquets on my girls. Rich boy like me, and I still liked wild flowers the most. I thought the patterns were beautiful.” He shrugged at how barbaric it was, to how he was supposed to live his life, Riviera, sunlit wine. “Started arranging the lilies to flow in falls down their chest and small white things pouring out their temples and ears. They were sleeping.” He shrugged. “Once I tied a wreath too tight around her leg.” He nodded in the direction Phaedra had gone. “I thought it looked like fruit. That was years ago.” A wide gesture, one arm, as though he could slap implications out of their shared atmosphere. “Suppose I broke arms and scraped up new kids for that, eventually. Sigmund’s story, oldest story there is, all that. ” He looked her over. What made her? “And you? Or were you born with little fangs out of a farm animal?” wouldn’t that be something? Some talked about gifts among the hungry. People of Dion’s echelon hated that legend specifically.

He quite liked the first part of her answer, and his neck elongated as thought he was offering both. They’d vibrated into one for him, too, in his dreams, but he had to assume all  gourmet things could. As revenge for their general annoying existence, he’d tumbled with boy’s girls, and those were two satisfactions at once, if he thought about it. Revenge is best served inside.

“What if I wear a mask over my mouth?” he asked when she left. It was an endearing call, like some kind of proclamation of love. Then he would have to be a child playing at man, and she would be his targeted maybe-woman. They were not that sweet, even if the hunger and lust were interchangeable. Dion was a snob and because he was, she’d have to be filth. And Dulcinea was almighty, while he was just a brat. Before their fates took them, would any of these things be overcome? He clucked his overflowing tongue and waved her off, as though to shut her up, even if she was already leaving.

See him around. What a charming way to say that. “If you’re good, good things will come to you, yeah.” He agreed and winked, if she turned.

He was out in the sun soon, titan with overlong limbs in the school casual uniform for physical activities. Ambitious with the sleeveless top, meant for indoors sports. People around were not complaining. Before now, lately, he’d started to loathe gym. What chance was there to hide mother’s antlers if he ran as fast as he should? But now he’d feel empowered flashing the white lines. Like the prince he fancied himself, he started stretching, even if he was late. The teacher acted accordingly, placating the behavior, and said nothing. A pedagogue of pedigree, perhaps, but he’d been taught his place enough times not to push with the shiniest families.

Dion didn’t lend an eye to the whistle man. He looked through the daylight at the bodies trying to earn good grades, to see if there was anything to entertain him before lunch. It was a new scope, a new filter. Ah. How miserable it must have been to be hazed, with all this delectable game out. He snickered as he went into a jog. Perhaps avoiding this way of life had been a mistake, with morning flowing down shoulders and sugaring complexions, this was more decadent than any table he’d seen set. He had a feeling he’d be a particular rascal, today.


The sound turned him, and some of the elixir spilled outside of Emily. She complained with her dry throat and Dae bent down to give her the bucket and the spoon. He looked at the liquid as though she expected something other than clear water in its depth. That curiosity wouldn’t last. Irus was already crawling toward her, too. Both angels would be soaked soon.

He might not seem fantastical, rather frightening in a low-brow manner, instead, when his shadowed head came into her view, in the glass she had drummed. Still vibrating, the transparent pane blurred him into a forming demon, but clamed into just another man hiding. Ominous, which was accurate. With a switch in his posture as he undid the lock, they were closed to put things back as they were, after all, his jaw and mouth were revealed. Brushed in black hair, barely. And a smile.

“Hey.” He said. She looked new. Heavy potential but it wasn’t released. She had a tension where relief of sampling should be, and she was comfortable in a way most hungry weren’t. Reassured, though, like her clothes weren’t enough to tell him that much. “We’re closed,” but the door opened wide. His Element was in her. “there’s better places to start, if you’re eager.” So far he could be just another servant. “or do you need something else?” Hardness about her pretty. He was sure that usually got her what she wanted.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on May 05, 2017, 12:17:55 am
She looked started when the door swung wide, like she hadn’t planned that far. At least, she hadn’t planned for the sort of disarming face that stared back now. He wasn’t handsome, exactly—or she couldn’t tell with the way he sunk into the dark of his hood. It was kind of cheap, that style, but she’d known Dion to humor it when he felt like sulking. Poppy stood up straighter. Yellow eyes and green eyes, too many jewels for a city sun. A neat blouse and a sweater. “Hello,” she said to be polite as her first course. Poppy didn’t have time to think too far ahead. Not when he was so pointed. She had the acumen to look offended though, because that was her second nature.

“Eager?” she echoed, like she hadn’t caught his meaning in his posture and the smell in the air. “I’m eager to find who I’m looking for, I guess. I hear this might be the best place. I don’t know about the rest.” She said. Which was to say she didn’t want to hear about the rest. Would her mouth water if she did? The curl of her lips said she’d bite out her own tongue before she let it wet for barbaric iron. That was a lot of grand posturing for the girl who’d all but lost herself over her brother’s salts.

She brought a curled fist before her lips and cleared her throat. “I’ll try not to waste your time. I’m looking for anybody who has word on the, uhm, Fox King… I believe they call him…” she trailed off, staring past him like she’d not gone looking for that name. Ironic, when she was adhering to the sensibilities of someone who’d not run in circles that whispered about the Fox. Poppy inclined her head, pandering gesture, and gave him a flattering smile. She expected him to help her, if he could.

“I have a personal interest in urban legends.” She said. Poppy shifted so it was clear her feet were planted. “So, if there are better places, as you say, would you mind pointing me in the right direction?” she asked. It was a peculiar way of asking questions, sweet but indominable. It was best if you wanted to help her, but it was okay if you didn’t. Poppy didn’t wear their family’s wealth the way Dion did, in swagger and fists, but she led it behind her like an entourage she’d become too familiar with to notice. That kind of nonchalance was too comfortable to be contrived. She would move what she wished when it was convenient, same as checking the time. Regardless, it was still just a spoiled girl demanding answers she had no right to.  She folded her arms across her chest and tipped up her chin because she knew.


Sugar didn’t turn for him or acknowledge what was, she supposed, some odd form of teasing. She did laugh though, like that was gracious enough, as she disappeared back down the brightly lit hall. She had intentions of creeping into the library to sleep through the next two class periods and had made it nearly to her usual place when she was stopped by a familiar voice. It made her smile, wolfish.

“Dulcinea, right?” Phaedra called after her, quiet because the literary archive demanded it. “Can we talk?” she asked. Sugar turned. Phae had that same determined look on her face as she’d had in the Den, Sugar could tell by the bright of her eyes, and she thought it was good to have seen that expression without the rabbit mask between.

“Oh dear, did your friend not tell you to be careful?” Sugar asked. It seemed unlikely that Deerest, who’d owned ‘possessive’ when she’d asked it, hadn’t thought to tell the little bunny to stay away. Sugar’s ocher stare flitted down the curve of Phae’s neck. It made Phaedra draw her hand over the covered scabs self-consciously.

“I am being careful. You’re too smart to cause trouble here.” Phaedra said. “And you don’t care enough about me to cause trouble later.” That made Sugar smile wider. Phae was not wrong.

“Brave bunny, either way.” Sugar countered. Phaedra shrugged.

“I have to learn things. I think you can teach me.” Phaedra said. Sugar blinked and pursed her lips. It was not the sort of encounter she’d anticipated. After a moment, she headed back toward her usual corner and waved Phae after her.

“Okay, I guess. I’m curious what that means, at least. I’ll listen. But your friend will get jealous if he sees us, you know.” Sugar said, settling down on the floor and tucking her knees to her chest. Phae folded delicately beside her.

“I want to know what it’s like, feeling the way you do. I want to know if it’s possible to be satisfied with one person.” Phaedra said. Sugar had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. How brash. Almost vulgar. It was endearing, honestly.

“Are you asking me if it’s ok to walk yourself to the slaughter?” Sugar giggled. Phaedra frowned.

“No, I think I’m asking if it’s worth it.” She said, and Sugar’s laughter died. Her red honey eyes were a little frightening then.

“You’re an idiot if you think there’s any worth in writing yourself into a tragedy.” She reached out to pull a little punitively at a lock of Phae’s long hair. “At least, so far as you won’t even enjoy it. So, unless you can learn that, I don’t see why he’d have any use for you. He’s fond of you in some way too, right?” Sugar said. Phaedra stared back at the pale girl and wasn’t sure how to answer.

“Can you teach me, or not?” Phae asked. “You said I could be a delicacy.”
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on May 05, 2017, 09:40:38 am
Oh, she'd been quite successful, then. Only real brand names from their circles came here for the exclusive treats, which made the patrons few by design, the amount that knew to come here to search for the vapors of his legend were a further meager number. He'd orchestrated things this way, so he could be the last barrier. Determined girl, to have gone this far without at least being somewhat comfortable with her hunger. It of course made him interested in leading her. The Red Element could do great things through her, for her, he was certain.

"The Fox King." he tested. "Ridiculous name. King of red clever forest creatures? Sounds like an unruly kingdom. Or is the fox the ruler? As though monarchies don’t already have funny noses." and that was perhaps her first clue. Whether it be from appreciation or fear, it wasn't likely anyone in the body would speak of the illusive head like that. He turned to also look where she was peering, and could see better, of course, Irus's battlefield. At this distance it could all still be mistaken for drunkards and filth. An experimental paint job, perhaps. Dae turned back soon.

"I have heard the legend. It has to be accurate, a little, don't you think?" he said and moved so she could come in. If he'd been in the mood to help people like Danny, she would be in grave happenings, soon. This girl had to know that. He wasn't. Dae liked to perpetrate the blossoming for every facet of Hunger's life, but that didn't always mean feeding the existing mouths. Sometimes it meant bringing more sets of teeth in. What would she do? Trusting him seemed out of her nature, but ending her search with something that looked so closely to lack of courage seemed the same.

"Inside is even a better place to start." he replied. He was teasing, of course, willing to help her quest as long as she was being this pent up, and then perhaps help her try the receiving end of their Element, if she was overly rude. It was probably a good thing the sister had come instead of the brother.

”Do you have a habit of seeking out kings?” he asked, whether she’d come along or not. He was invested enough that he wouldn’t leave her where she was and forget her at the door if she was all too hesitant. It started as a joke, but he could very well imagine this visitor endeavoring climbing to the highest part of the tree as soon as she stepped onto the playground. He was inspired by her prim, and thought his usual, ragged incognito seemed inappropriate if he was to host someone like her. They would be walking now, passed the strewn out people and the thick memories of the banquet – or they would still be at his threshold, with heavy insistence in his gait that they should go in.

“Would you mind telling me what this is about?” he continued. He gave the air of being willing to submit to helping her anyway, if she did not. A trick of the powerful, perhaps, to be accommodating when they could. She was speaking to the highest god under Hunger, after all. “In return I’ll give you my name. We’re impolite, both of us, aren’t we?” A backroom with windows in the wall between. Open space, but still one level deeper, away from the safety of the street. “It’s Daedalus. Dae, to save your precious time, if you’re feeling familiar.” And what a fate the Element stood before, because of that. Maybe Dae thought some things are stronger than wax wings. Would this girl be? He found that he was unusually curious. She must have had at least a little sear to be here, but nothing she’d allowed to burn her, yet.


Dion was on one knee, looking at one of the newest girls to be accepted into the school. Late transfer, good sport. The sprain was nasty, and the blue with the violet intrigued him. Still, the hurt was soft and dry. He was thinking up ways to convince her to cut it and bleed it out. But this wasn’t war, they were not unfortunates out in the wilderness. More acutely, he was not someone she trusted yet. He was certain his position would have taken her confidence the last distance, if he pressed. She even stayed moderately still when he let his finger slide over the swelling. A handsome face will buy you certain accesses, always. And he was much more engaged when he thought about puncturing that orbed mark with his canines. Maybe she thought it was a look of sympathy. “Ah, this is nothing. Looks almost like a tattoo.” He said with a smile. I liked her lips. Plumb but small. “And just like one the swelling will be gone soon.” He tilted his head and thought he was being unfair in so many ways, then. To her for leaving her with this much charm, and to others for not giving it to them, too. How would any heart recover? “It’s better than dolphins or something tribal, isn’t it?”

“Do you like her?” Cas teased from behind. Both looked up at the brighter boy. He came down to throw an eye on her ankle, too. She was getting an awful lot of attention from the treasured males. Maybe this would be enough for her demise, if any of the ambitious girls saw. Caspian was also disappointed at the lack of blood. When he’d asked if she was Dion’s taste, he meant for the bloody trials, of course. The sprain made things interesting, but it was hardly anything indicting.

“She’s okay.” Dion replied and studied Cas, who seemed to play the role of a caring new classmate well.

“She will be.” Cas answered and finally waved the teacher over.

“Well, do you think you’ll be alright on your own or would like a piggy back ride?” Dion offered as the grown man came between them to check on the injury, now that he’d been allowed. Cas stood with the usual leader. Dion was already sweeping the field for others who would be interesting.

“Kinda need to speak about Armand. They’re not listening right now.” Cas warned. That caught Dion’s attention. He didn’t like insolence. Dependable Cas. Sweet boy. Sweet on Poppy, at least.

“Oh? Well. I guess he’s going to be rude today.” Dion muttered. Cas thought it was concerning when he saw the sinew on Dion’s backhand flex.

“You know Armand, more testosterone than anything else.” Jester. Wasn’t it Dion’s fault they all lived closer to their instincts?

“Let’s put his testies to the test, then.” Dion said with a light voice from hard teeth. “But that’s later, right?” The dressing room was the usual arena. It was not wise to go into the tiled coliseum without allies, but enough prizes had come Dion’s way lately that he thought it’d be alright this time, too. Right now, Dionysus would rather scour the grass for other delicious things.

The usually lighthearted Caspian had a knot in his stomach. He’d have to send a text to Poppy later. Surely she’d be her usual self, at least.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on May 08, 2017, 05:33:53 am
It was a preposterously bold thing to say and further ridiculous because she said it to Sugar. Sugar was sure to wear the sort of expression that would let her know as much. When Phaedra did not seem moved by the curl of Sugar’s lip, or at least seemed to be stalwart enough to weather it, Sugar thought she could find the girl entertaining enough not to give a little time. She had tasted nice, too. Really, Phae was a bigger treat than Sugar would generally be inclined to admit. There was something exceptionally delicious about the fact the girl had come to her over Dionysus, even if Dion was her goal. Like a dog pissing on a post first.

“I can teach you, probably. If that kind of base appeal is what you’re sure you want.” Sugar said pragmatically. “It’s kind of a lot, isn’t it, to go this way? You’re not inclined toward it at all.” She said. It was easy enough to tell. Phaedra stared down at her toes.

“No, I’m not. I find it kind of frightening and barbaric.” She admitted. Sugar made a sound that might have been laughter. “But I can’t hate it, if it’s part of what Dion is.” She blurted. When she looked up, Sugar was smiling too wide. “I don’t care what you think, and I know you know about him.” Phaedra defended. Sugar nodded dismissively, but she was still smiling.

“Well, you aren’t the first person to come due to morbid curiosity, but I’ve never really messed with anybody who came in with your particular brand of self-importance.” Sugar inclined her head. “You realize that’s what it is, to love him like you’re doing. You’re being incredibly self-important.” Phaedra’s lips pulled into a thin line.

“I can’t help it. I know I’m not a saint. But nobody here is, right?” she said. If it was possible, Sugar smiled wider. Delusions were so much more convincing when hedged by a sensible dose of introspection. It was the best kind of excuse, knowing one’s self.

“I don’t care about saints or anything else. You can meet me by the old picnic tables after school.” Sugar said, and then she waved her off. Dulcinea wanted to nap.


Poppy shook her head, not because she disagreed with him but because she didn’t know. She said as much. “I guess I don’t care what the Fox King is, or what his actual name is. I just need to find the person connected with those rumors.” Poppy said. If it was a useful rumor, it had served its purpose. Dogged girl. She hesitated before she stepped inside, but she did move eventually. As he had suspected, it was too much to give up now. Poppy could frighten, but she wasn’t a coward.

She walked with the sort of self-assurance that said trust wasn’t an issue. Poppy would take care of herself. That was probably a foolish sentiment, but it had carried her far.

She sighed. “Look, it’s fine whatever you’re into. I’m not trying to cause trouble in particular. I’m just trying to find this Fox King because I need to have a chat. Nothing more, nothing less. Whatever else is going on, I don’t want to know.” Poppy said. It sounded so tidy. She smiled at him so he’d understand she wasn’t trying to be rude, just efficient. Still, the effect was a bit like she was brushing off a salesman. That was not, possibly, the most inappropriate reaction.

“So, if it’s possible, if you could just tell me what you know or point me toward somebody else who could offer information, I’d greatly appreciate it.” She said.

It became quickly apparent that the man would take her at his own pace. If it weren’t for the sense that he was cooperating, she might have begun to be annoyed. When he pried, she folded her arms across her chest. “I would just like to make an arrangement, that’s all.” She said. It was clear she had no desire to discuss her plans further. It wasn’t that they were all that secret, the things she wanted, but trying to blacklist Phae and her brother from the city circuit still meant putting their names where unsavory sorts would be prying. Poppy preferred to discuss the matter with the Fox King himself. It did not strike her as naïve to believe she could obtain the audience she demanded.

“Pleasure to meet you, Daedalus.” She said, because she was neither lazy nor his friend. “My name is Poppy Price.” And Poppy fully expected him to recognize precisely which Price she meant.

Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on May 08, 2017, 12:35:24 pm
Business minded girl. He supposed a blouse like that would not dress a reckless girl so well. He had many kits come this far with persistance. Sometimes they'd needlessly bribed themselves through the ranks, their two-way hunger and wayward ambition standing them at his door without some parts they'd started with. There were occasion he would reward these souls, as well. His guest today was not here to see an idol, hoping to exchange worship of the same urges. He was curious, walking her.

"Long way for a chat." Wherever you started. He smiled back, and even though the shadows continued to chew  most details that would give the expression away, the attitude of it carried through his shallow disguise. "You're practical." Which was fine. "That can be a bit cold." Which was not. He didn't have a punishment for cold, though. On one occasion he’d met someone completely empty except for the hunger. It had been beautiful and volatile. The pious had made a pit for him and were still known to throw themselves into it when their heads were filled with belief and their hearts with inspiration.

“I am.” Telling you, pointing you. Dea was not invested in personal pride more than it could be helpful for a voice to the Hunger. Sometimes a mouth that recites the law needs to have a steady tone. “Pleasure.” He replied and remembered her name soon, leading her up stairs cutting from lower left to high right on the farthest wall. “Price? The liquor mogul? You’re royalty in your own right, then.” he said as a door opened and more sunlight came in. A sanctum here, which reflected his personality more than he’d intended. He was also practical – a prophet ought to be – and so there was only a few pieces of furniture in the open space. A corner was tiled, the edges of the assembled ceramic converging like petals leave a flower head. If he held pride over an artful direction in his soul, his chest did not inflate for it.

He was done tasting her name and made a little huff as though he’d finished a thought too. It wasn’t dismissive, but it was final. “Your father isn’t really a friend of the Hunger.” And had been loud on the subject. There was that voice then, steady, like an animal that had lived before human time, and learnt their language so it could communicate with them before it ate them. “And I am suddenly inclined to give you exactly what you want.“ Her name had bought her into this circuit too, but perhaps not in the way she hoped. The hood came down with a tug, and black hair spilled from an overflowing, black crown. Curls over across and underneath his yellow eyes. Poppy Price wasn’t a threat to him, but he needed to put himself between her and the Hungry if she had unkind intentions.

“Fox King wasn’t my idea, but I think I would have fought it harder if I disliked it.” With the daylight, his irises bled into his sclera, and he smiled without teeth with the deeply blooden mouth. “King of red things.” Sometimes children just know. He’d let his beauty grow wild, free, and that was the kind of creature that stood before her now. A product of the city jungle. His hand traveled in an orbit around himself, circling his axis. She was allowed to stand or sit where she wanted her. The tile was clean of clues but bleach couldn’t very well take away the implication. Dae, however, wasn’t being threatening.

“Well, Ms. Price. What do you say? We’re chatting already, and it is not unpleasant.” Perhaps the elbow to his chest so that his palm could support his scruffy chin was not so harmless as he studied her, anymore. He did not try to intimidate. The Hunger stuck out of her like long, fine fibers. She wasn’t cattle, but she wasn’t feeding, either. How her father would fret if he knew. “There was talk of an arrangement? You have my attention.” He gave, coming closer to her from where he’d stood. How polished she was, and how primitive, he. It called for him to see the two of them close, just for the contrast. “I make arrangements all the time, when they’re beneficial.”

He wasn’t one to wet his tongue in the vice all too often, The Element did well here without his contribution in the pits, but he wondered how her restraint tasted, how it would feel to sample her shackles and try their durability. He was being accommodating now, and it presented as though he was always eager to give audience. Poppy might suspect by Danny’s tone that it wasn’t so, often.


Dion had not managed to find more for himself than a few potential souls for later. It was out of place to practice unhindered indulgence so openly, anyway. Was it too much to expect some mayhem and accidents, though? He could have lived off such entertainment through the day. Princely, he moved back, in the crowd but not with anyone in particular, toward the changing rooms. The light was as flattering as always, but many of the boys had a surplus of pretty in their youth, anyway. Dion was a picture, wearing the top only on his right arm as soon as he went through the doors. Lithe giant, come to the waterfalls.

He was reminded of Caspian’s warning when he rounded an empty isle of red boxes. Armand’s voice on the other side. The Price son grinned. The other boy was talking jolly for planning an ambush. Sweet Cas had probably been worried for nothing. Still, there was a matter of pride, too. Sugar didn’t care much about insults, but Dion had to. It was easy to locate the precise location of Armand on the other side. Dion easily stepped on the bench to climb over, like some ghost, growing out of nowhere. The listeners around Armand were aghast but it was too late to warn their friend as Dionysus ascended.

He meant to tear the other boy to the ground. Dionysus would boast a silent rage when he threatened new blood, and those that stood behind him knew the well it came from. So he was completely wild for an instance, felling the boy who’d been foul with his mouth. How intimate they became, Dion’s knees on either side of Armand’s torso. It was a comfortable seat, Dion though as he held Arman’s wrist down, too, even if Armand had kept his shirt on so far. “Hey, player.” He said and wondered how this windpipe might taste. “All this talk of eating cocks and here we are, your mouth primed for it.” Dion slid a little further up Armand’s chest but noticed the ring of others closing in. “Really!” he roared, spittle haling down on his capture’s face. He did not take insolence lightly. Even rabid he was better than any of them. “Are you all eager to get a mouthful too? You miss me that much?” he offered, Poppy’s green completely vacated from his otherwise black eyes. It was enough to push them back the steps they had advanced. He’d forgotten how satisfying their obedience was.

He turned back to the lying comrade, squeezing his wrist. Dion had to admit this was partially because he’d made Phaedra blush and fuss the other night, even if it hadn’t been Armand’s fault. Soon Dion’s thighs would be at level with Armand’s ears, shins pressing down on Armand’s arms, too, which meant there’d be contact between Dion’s shorts and Armand’s chin. Admittedly, this wasn’t looking bad. A lot like sex, Sugar had said. “What do you say now, rude boy? Are you still on the subject, or can we move on to where you’re quiet and respectful to whomever I choose to fraternize with?”

Caspian had seen this tiger before, it had even roared and clawed at them in the past, but this seemed a bit far, even for Dion. He held one arm out to keep back a friend. Caspian had to stay loyal, because of his heart in Poppy.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on May 12, 2017, 03:20:50 am
Poppy nodded, though she was a few steps behind him. “The very same,” because she’d said her name so he’d know it. “My father came up with the name, changed it when the business was beginning to boom. Something about elegant simplicity and things people would remember.” She shrugged. An invented name and those ever-so-slightly-exotic features turned her into something more coherent with her search for the Fox King. Like she might just have been looking for more of her kind. That sort of sentiment would have been pretty to Phaedra but ridiculous to Poppy. She wanted to find nothing familiar in the sort of man that ruled the Dens.

She blinked in the brighter room. It was oddly tranquil, given the somewhat oppressive atmosphere he’d led her through. Poppy had done a decent job of not showing it, but she’d smelled the blood not long gone cold and saw through the haze the ghost of the previous evening. Poppy was good at filling in blanks. She had done it all the time for Phae and for Dion, most often correct and so staunch when she was wrong that it might as well have been the truth. Still, in this upper room and stillness, she looked a little more like a school girl under shafts of afternoon sunlight. “I would say that is putting it quite lightly,” her father had cast away his own son. His daughter had built a fortress around her tongue to protect the pride he’d raised in her. Still, it wasn’t bitter when she said it. Just factual. It was a reality she’d embraced. That was why she was here, after all.

Poppy was often the most striking thing in a room, her natural pretty and her presence demanded it. Today, she was not. Had he known her better, he might have been genuinely flattered when she was unable to silence the small, but sharp, intake of breath. He was lovely in a way she was not accustomed to and she thought, for the briefest moment, she could excuse the old hoody for the man who wore it. For the skeptic she was, she did not question the sincerity of his admission. If he was not the city’s Fox King, he’d certainly staked a claim as hers. “Daedalus the King,” she exhaled, and had recaptured her spark enough to say it with well-implied irony. “I suppose, rounded out like that, it’s kind of catchy.” She said. “You’re not as secretive as they make you out then?” she asked, because Poppy didn’t know the select group she’d been dropped into with his reveal.

“Well, anyway, I did have a proposition.” Poppy said. All business again, though he’d clearly caught her off guard. It was either remarkable or adorable, depending on how he’d appraised her. She took a seat for herself on a comfortably worn sofa. “I’ll be blunt, since you’ve been gracious enough to be forthright with me,” Poppy was not an unreasonable girl, when things were going well. “My brother has gotten—involved, let’s say, with all this.” She gestured in a way that was meant to imply all the Hunger and the Dens, his whole kingdom in a sweep of her thin arms. “Which has, in turn, started to drag a dear friend of mine into it too. Rather, she’s going places she shouldn’t and she hasn’t got a taste for…” Poppy frowned and set her hands in her lap, one on top of the other. She couldn’t say it, which probably meant she was closer to the edge than she’d admitted to herself.

“If you’re the King around here, you can blacklist a single boy, can’t you?” She asked. “If you keep my brother out, my friend won’t have a reason to be around either. He’s boorish, so he’ll find other ways to get his mouth dirty, but he doesn’t need another social ladder to climb. Not one like this.” Poppy sighed. She held her appearances poorly when it came to talking much about Dionysus. He was dearest to her, in the end. She smiled at Dae and it seemed a little apologetic. Whether for the lapse in composure or the request itself was debatable, though it rarely took much time with Poppy to guess at which was more likely.

“In exchange, well, there’s a lot of places a big business holds onto well after it’s out of use. And I have connections, in general. I’d be willing to try and come to some sort of agreement you’d find mutually beneficial if you’d be willing to keep Dionysus Price out of your Dens.” Poppy smoothed the fabric on her pants, nicely pleated. “It’s probably a poor way of doing it, but I want to drive my brother back home. And you have other mouths to feed. I’m sure I’ve got something at my disposal you’d find appealing.” A laugh. “It’s an unorthodox means of striking a bargain, but I’ve more or less come here asking you to name your price.” 

Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on May 12, 2017, 06:15:42 pm
A father with a maiden name. What had they been, the peasant syllables that the Price head had shaken out of existence? Perhaps someone who would call himself Deadalus should not be so unfamiliar with a rebranding, even though he'd sooner say it was a redirection of existence. Mother and father had simply misinterpreted his name from the beginning. What am I, what is my name - they could be different concepts. Tiger, Shere Khan.

Poppy Price didn't keep herself with the kind of pride that couldn't see her family's misdeeds. Or she simply thought it was their right. Calmly she absorbed his note on her father's prosecution of the Hungry, something old man Price shared with almost anyone who wasn't Fox kin. Dae had already decided to step out of hiding for her, and it was pleasant to be appreciated by her hitch. His beauty wasn't news to him, but he wasn't just the caretaker of one sin, so he allowed some vanity to warm him when the favored guest approved. He didn't fraternize openly often, and her startle was everything anyone wanted from composed creatures like Poppy. "I'm sure it's not the first time someone makes an exception for you, Poppy Price." he said about his assumed secrecy. Porcelain things are fun to tease.

Deadalus listened , head at a tilt, like a likeness of stone standing in a forgotten garden, too long. A brother with teeth, a friend without. Poppy told a great story, a tribute to Hunger. There was much meat in the tale, but no bone and no marrow. He smiled softly but it was enough to break the statue stare. "Thank you for being direct." She'd suffered through his pleasantries too, though. "They sound like quite a pair, don't they? Dutiful friend, going where she wouldn't, for someone else's boorish brother." But Dae saw something more intriguing, sitting in the couch, with her hands in her lap. Maybe he could pry.

He came closer, and let the footfalls be light and lingering, the sound of contemplation, even though he'd made up his mind long ago. "I do scramble to find venues for our... indulgence.” he admitted. It was true here as it was in any city. To think the Red Spirit that would move their age had to play, in passing, by the rules set by demand of housing. His group was driven, voracious for space, so they found havens. A foot in with Price would make things easier. “It is actually a struggle for me.” He said, and held his own hands. The jest wasn’t malicious. He wanted to endear himself to her. “But a soul so lost into Hunger he drags another with him is precious too.” Would she hate to hear that? He was ambivalent about the friend but not the brother.

He sat down with her. Poppy was so closely wound to herself, and it was a daunting thing to a King who famously did not partake in the holidays he dictated. Perhaps he waited for instances like this, then, when circumstances and the morsel were fine. Not a hunt, or an agreement, but a dance, maybe. The distance between them was polite, where they sat, but the lack of others here made it private, inevitably. “You’re not being selfish, I don’t think, it’s a lovely thing between siblings, so I won’t say no to your generosity. Not with finality.” And despite his proclaimed modesty, the ragged clothes, the practical place to lay his head, his voice gave away that he thought he was being very reasonable. “But you want me to chase away this person when he is doing the right thing in a boorish way.” It could be hard to convince her of that. “So, how about you try his side of things?”

It could be a trick of the light, movement of the sun, but he would seem to have moved closer to her. “He’ll be chasing pockets, puddles of kindred, away from the acceptance my Dens offer. Why do you think I make these oases? My ambition is not to turn people away at the door. The Hunger is the next thing to happen to us.” Humans, not you and I. “It would be like telling him he’s wrong and we’re right, when we’re saying the same thing.” In truth, he should lead her out and thank her not to come back - not that he’d be here next time - but she spoke to him with her reds braided with her self-imposed chains. In fact, the carnivorous strain in her called for him like her ghost that wanted to haunt freely. Kill me, save me. “This is his society now, and he’ll be punished by our laws for being boorish before he’s ostracized.” He sighed, elbow on the couch’s back and hand on his cheek as he looked her over. It was another teasing game, said his red, curled lips. Oh, you’re so bothersome, Poppy. “My answer is a temporary no, instead, until you put yourself in his loafers, or wingtips, or whatever footwear the Price children choose.” Fire around her, and he counted the licks. Maybe he and she were the same, in this. “Would you do that for your brother and your friend?” To speak to her martyr. All prim things have a relationship with their Madonna.

“He’s just sensitive, a  gourmet.” Which implied perhaps she was not, yet. Dae hoped he wasn’t defending some outlandish person now. “There is reward in holding it back,” And he saw clearly Poppy was. “like a girl in the back you ignore every time she raises her hand. She frets quietly.” A confession, this, too. “But aren’t you tired of wondering what’s inside her mouth? What she’s thinking in her murky corner? With if her skirt is ragged under the tabletop, and her shoes are pointed outward?” Impossibly closer, and still not touching his leg to hers. He smelt like himself, through the well-used attire. No latin chemicals with French names. “If we live our lives measuring ourselves by the things we can live without, and we live successfully, aren’t our lives null?” he laughed softly, and she might know it was at her, but it was for her loveliness in her shackles. “Just a little living, Poppy, to see what all that restraint is worth.” Locales he could find, but not something as fettered as she.


Dion had earned himself a blemish. The black sun on his cheekbone was outlined in blue, and the connecting veins, barely underneath, were radiating out in various shades of purple. He could not have looked happier about it.

The boys would not allow their King in passing to force himself so crassly on the surprised steward. Dion thought it was a waste, since Armand was primed for such slobbery tasks. They’d lifted Dion off and he had snarled and kicked. The brigade of pampered meanies still had enough fear for the Price son to let him go once Armand was on his feet. Dion made short work of him then, because Dion had new viciousness in him, to pile on top of the old. Those that were frozen, afraid of his retaliation when Armand had his head tossed into the metal doors one too many times to stay upright, received demeaning claps on their faces, one each, before Dionysus bluntly started to shed his clothes. It was a display of power then, to be naked inside a ring of threats.

He smirked, congratulating himself for the violent adventure, as he corrected to collar that had seen better days. With his hair wet from the shower that had been tense to say the least, he felt refreshed. The next event on his schedule would be delightful, no matter what it was, with this happening to lift his spirits.

He was a different animal now, walking through the corridors. Deerest with antlers and sharp teeth.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on May 16, 2017, 06:02:32 am
Phaedra shifted uncomfortably on the motel bed. It was dim, save the shafts of light lancing between the broken blinds. They illuminated Dulcinea, and it looked like she had unraveled, curls of her pale existence vanishing in the bright streaks. “It’s not the nicest place, but the people who own this place are like me.” She said with a crooked grin. It wasn’t pride, exactly, so much as it was validation. Phaedra was the minority here. “So, they let me crash here when there are free rooms.” Dulcinea’s ghost of a private life, slipping through the cracks in that story like the dirty light through the window. Parents who wouldn’t notice she hadn’t come home, or parents she didn’t want to notice when she did.

“It’s, um, it’s nice. Or, it’s nice that they do that.” Phae offered. They weren’t friends. But formality was peculiar in this space. Dulcinea fell back onto the bed, arms splayed.

“It’s not nice. It’s polite though.” She chuckled. Phaedra tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Nervous tick, maybe. “Anyway, you need to calm down. I’m not going to go ballistic and devour you or something.” Dulcinea—Sugar sounded like she thought it might be worth being offended. “You aren’t that special.”

Phaedra coughed into her fist and shook her head. “I don’t think I am. I just don’t know what I’m doing. I guess I wouldn’t be here with you, if I knew what I was doing.” She said. Sugar made a sound that was like sarcasm given breath.

“Half of that is true.” She agreed. She did not say which half. “You’re kind of… inexperienced, huh?” Sugar asked, propping herself up on her elbows. She’d never really had a female friend before, or much of a friend in general. Danny might have been something close. Phaedra was a little curious, that way. She wasn’t competition because she wasn’t really part of Sugar’s world. She was a creature that would have done better to know Dulcinea but was asking for Sugar’s favor. Sugar cocked her head. “Like, you act like you’re asking me to teach you how to fuck, but I doubt you’ve got the sense to really get the metaphor.” She said. Sugar blinked. She’d had another flavor of this conversation not more than a few hours before. It made her laugh.

Phaedra flushed and curled her fingers tight around the fabric of her uniform skirt, because she supposed Sugar was laughing at her. “Does that really matter?” she demanded. Sugar went quiet and scowled.

“Yeah, actually. It kind of does. I wasn’t really planning on being your first everything.”


Poppy was sitting very straight and staring at him very intently. She’d left such a strange offer on the table. Which was to say, she’d placed herself at a disadvantage from the start and she was aware of it. He was too, she was certain. Listening to him roll her explanations over on his tongue she thought it was no wonder he’d become a Fox to this city. She was caught between being drawn toward him and shrinking away when he seemed to come closer. It might have worked in her favor, immovable girl. Statuesque before the king.

“Try his side?” she said it with such an admirable amount of disgust. Reflexive, to the point that it was almost believable. Poppy met his stare. “I would never.” She said. There was a lie in the way her voice hissed around those words. “It doesn’t matter whether the things he wants are right or wrong.” Poppy set her jaw. “He should learn to control himself.” Like me. She wasn’t that kind of liar, then. Rather, she was an idealist of her own making. It was fine if he saw it in her. Poppy’s faults didn’t matter because she controlled them. She’d have him see her mastery as clearly as he saw her Hunger.

Poppy frowned. “A temporary no, because I won’t—“ he continued and it destroyed the rest of her words against the roof of her mouth. It was difficult to protest that way when he frolicked through, perching her on the edge of villainy where her pride had been rooted so strongly. “I’m here for them. Clearly, I’ll go where I must for them.” She said. Bit the syllables so she’d not bite her own tongue.

“But you’re being unreasonable, I think.” She flinched when he drew closer still. “You’re asking for something ridiculous. What’s one boy in the grand scheme of your kingdom?” Poppy tried. But what was one taste in the river of her ego? She exhaled. “But, I guess this is your game, right?” she asked. A Fox King without tricks and dens was nothing of his name. “Either way, it isn’t for you to tell me what my life is worth.” The Price heiress found her voice there. She knew how to wield her silver spoon, at least, regardless of the spells his proximity and yellow eyes were weaving.

“My kingdom isn’t like yours. My kingdom is one I’m supposed to share with my brother. I won’t trade it to be a servant in yours for the sake of... of curiosity.” She said, and then he laughed at her. She was taken aback. Poppy wasn’t to be laughed at. “What gives you the right to tell me anything about living? Of all the requests you could make, you’re choosing to mock me?”

Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on May 16, 2017, 10:42:12 am
Daedalus hummed as though she was treating him to something especially, almost offensively delicious, when she’d said her part about control. His was a kingdom of agreements, whether they were breathed in fearful joy, or blared through coy refusal. High expectations for her brother, and so Dae learned the same thing about her, too. She could see his little triumph in the yellow eyes, as one brow lifted. He was further pleased to see her agree to this journey, if it was for the friend and the sibling. He supposed this meeting this far should have told him as much. Cold, she would have him believe, but she was here for two of her heartstrings. Her reluctance, spelled out in hard sounds, was also delectable to him.

Unreasonable. Ridiculous. She liked to attach condescension as facts. Poppy Price wasn’t proved wrong enough to know the distinction. One boy she pressed, how insignificant. “Then don’t tell me what your brother’s life is worth.” To me. He bickered tartly. She’d not upset him, not even his current easy, collected nature could hide that. “Maybe he could be an admiral for the Hunger. Elements need Elementals, Price.” He played. While he was also a servant of control, he was too engaged now. He didn’t see it and she couldn’t possibly know, but he was not prone to give his audience like this.

It was so sweet, the notion of sister and brother leading with the only power that most people sought, these days. This must be a deep bond. “But your brother is here, sister.” He reminded her. Some boy, this, to have a friend and Poppy Price go to such lengths. “if our kingdoms differ then there you have it, with him in both.” And then his jaw dropped in statuesque scandal when she scolded him for his laughter. It deserved that reaction, he thought. “You gave me the right, Poppy.” He drew, the sharpness at this distance had to be a contained. Thunderstorm turning over, sleepy, in his chest. “Couldn’t I in theory tell you a great many things?” He liked to look at her face then.

“I don’t mean to mock, however, but you’re amusing.” He explained and leaned back, without his attention toward her wavering. “Are you going to be completely impossible with this?” he pressed as he pulled down the weathered zipper to open up for an equally battered undershirt. He was getting comfortable, angel skin with wolf mane, in rags. “My kind loves people. At the very core of it out fixation becomes affection. You should see that. I don’t mean to insult.” He said and looked into the ceiling, running his hands through his hair. Animal grooming. “But I have a few things to do for the Hunger. Like you know, locales are a hassle to procure. So I won’t indulge you if I have to paw around your extended sense of self, too. This is not going to be my decent into manners.”

He held his hand out for hers. The atmosphere smelt like him, now. “Give me.” He said, fingers curling out and in. And then he would pull her touch to wrap around the side of his throat. He was fully human, despite the stories, with the heat that comes with that. A strong pulse, and vivid temperature. He looked at something in the air as he continued to speak, with her palm locked to him. “The Hunger is a loving thing, you see. You know the value of life. You can feel it on me and you would know it was gone if you couldn’t.” he smiled to himself as his head fell back, eyes shut. Canine enjoying her coaxed petting. “I want to see the new age go from the ground through our toes up the top of our heads. I want to see it in the air like a crimson renaissance.” It was his essence, put plain. “But your brother, young in our timeline, just knows he wants things. He is indiscriminate, mostly, his belly emptied out with love.” His fingers pressed hers deeper into his column. “I don’t think you’re foreign to that kind of thing.” His eyes opened at the ceiling and his head fell to look at her. More wolf, then. “If you’re asking me to shut him out, I want you know at least a fraction of what you want for him. That might give you the voice to tell him, yourself.” He suggested. His scruffs was on her forearm, his breath toward the bend of her arm. “I am just asking you to indulge, really, Poppy, blood for your blood, before I consider going against my own religion for you. The cost is at least that. Do it for the both of us.” Me and Dionysus.

A slow parting of his lips, no teeth. “Or would you rather be loved than love?” he asked, other hand reaching for her mouth. “I give it good, too.” He was stronger, many times, but none of the pressures he held on her would be too much for her to break free from, physically. Porcelain things are not to be bent, after all. But they can be turned.


Dion was unaware of the two that romanced blood for him. He was sucking his pencil while looking out the window, picking out heads of hair to pull. He was bruise cheeked, dreaming heavy dreams with his eyes half open about Danny and whatever treasure would come. If he'd known, perhaps he'd rather wrestle with a yellow-eyed wolf with misplaced possessiveness for his sister, or watch as Phaedra became something other for him, under Sugar.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on May 21, 2017, 05:24:55 pm
Poppy was a bright girl and she was more than equipped to understand when she was being backed into a corner. It was a sensation she experienced rarely, being the sort to tear open paths when it suited her, and one she’d not ever appreciated. This interaction, then, was winding solidly into the realm of her unhappiness. But he was playing through all of it, somehow, despite believable convictions, and that made her want to defeat him even if it pushed her against the wall.

There was as well, beneath her ire, the soft and surging tide of the swell her brother had already drowned in. He had forced her hand, pulling her by the wrist toward its depth on the kitchen floor, and only the abrupt confrontation of the abyss in a bucket had really sent her back up for air. Daedalus was entreating the same siren song, the one she knew was grotesque, but with more finesse than Dion could have ever mustered now. Artist, animal, certainly monarch in this space. If she was admirable for maintaining her composure, it was equally delightful that it faltered.

Her fingers against the column of his throat, twitched once like she was considering it. And she was. It occurred to her that the greatest victory here would be to pass his test. She was aware that this meant he was leading, that she had lost the upper hand the moment he’d brought her inside. But Poppy had, at least, anticipated that much of a man called a king by ferocious beasts. She just hadn’t anticipated it quite like this. Still, to acquiesce and rise to the top was as graceful a way to succeed as it was to dominate. Poppy had all sorts of means to protect her pride. “You’d be satisfied, then, for some safe places and watching me try your debauchery once?” she asked with the sort of tone one might use to clarify a point at a board meeting. It was strikingly vulgar, paired with her nails against his skin.

“I can admire your sympathy for my brother, at least.” She said, and she did let her fingers find some force and traction against his skin. “But you must realize by now that I’m not like him, even if I put myself in his place.” It was Poppy’s turn to move closer to him, to close that distance, and what might have made him a feral god made her delightfully human. She had taken a step back toward that corner to find her footing, only. “Dae,” she said, because he’d clearly invited that familiarity now, “As with all negotiations, I can’t just acquiesce.” She said, almost apologetically. “So, it’s not out of any desire to have your teeth at my throat that I say this, but the necessity of better understanding who I’m working with.”

Pressed her lips further against his own fingertips. “This is, regardless of what you’d like to call it, just another exercise in control. So you show me too. That you can run this debauched kingdom and maintain your composure. I won’t be able to trust this bargain otherwise.” Her nails dug, just enough to cut the surface of his skin.

It would be this, then, a peculiar posturing that wouldn’t be settled until they dusted themselves off and could sit here blood-soaked with the same composure. He had probably gotten what he wanted, if he was fluent in the green of her eyes. A new challenge was Poppy’s element; she could indulge the Hunger to spite it, to prove herself better, which was her greatest addiction.


Sugar was laughing as her fingers dipped along Phae’s neckline, tracing the open buttons of her shirt down to its point. “No wonder he’s a little possessive, I think, when you make faces like that so easily.” And Phaedra was rosy and sweet with the way she hadn’t been able to maintain eye-contact with the other girl. It was easy to enjoy being so effective on such a pliable thing. “It’s almost disgusting.” Sugar hummed, and let her lips graze the corner of Phae’s mouth. The dark-haired girl inhaled sharply.

“Is this really necessary?” Phaedra asked quietly, though she wasn’t pulling away.

“Yes, probably. You’re going to be Pavlov’s dog, that’s all. Don’t take it so serious. But you don’t even know what you like yet.” Sugar sighed, and then kissed Phae lightly. When she pulled her face away, Dion’s maid had closed her eyes. Sugar smirked. “But, at least in that way people are predictable, whether they want to chew on bones or not.” 

Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on May 21, 2017, 10:24:30 pm
Her contracting fingers closed on a surge in his throat, and his eyes flared just a little out of their usual shape for it. He was running his touch over the tempered surface that was the Poppy Price veneer, and looking for any inconsistencies that would give away her intent. He kept her hand there, steady, so she could do what she wanted. "Yes. If you'd like to put it plain, then land and blood is enough to bar your brother from my establishments." It was not such a great sacrifice, not a cost to his time or effort, to forbid one soul from the carnival.

He was welcoming when she slid closer and added more force to the nails on his life's highway. No, if she'd been like her brother, or even close, she would be drinking at the pool of the fountain instead of climbing it to speak to its mouth. This was not his specialty, that she weaved, not entirely. He lived his life a little like a benefactor or a great antagonist, and writing contracts in the air was part of that, but she was the daughter of a titan of coffers, she knew how to push for all things that weren't souls. His advantage was that he didn't have much stock in what she was squeezing him for, which let him play with a looser wrist.

She endeared him to the haggle, though, and the challenge was valid. It was hard not be be invested when she drove home the point with his own blood. The smile she saw had a glint of white. Insolent, if she'd been of his kingdom. His skin was not marked by the life he provided others. He was not indulgent. "I prove myself, then, to you." he clarified and bled on her nail. "That I am worth your time." Never pressed in such a way, the Hungry were often too engrossed to doubt him when he appeared. This could be a treat.

"It's not proof, not until you verify and I think it'd be rude of me to send you down those paths, but I'll tell you of the labyrinth of the Hungry." he offered, now that they had found a drum to move to. "It's an enterprise based on one vice, or virtue. It wouldn't hold up if it wasn't contained on all sides by this." His knuckles, since they were so familiar now - Dae and the touch of her lips to his fingerprints - brushed her cheekbone to direct the focus to her person. "Restraint, or reluctance, taboo, whatever lines other forbidden things." As though she was some avatar in this room for shackles on desires. She could be flattered about it, Angel of control, or displeased to be slotted to represent deprivation. He was sure the result would be a delightful subtle clue on her well held features, either way.

"So I really want for my kingdom to be obsolete." For children in the future to be scolded about eating their brothers and sisters the same way they are lectured on not stealing. "And that's why I can't frequent the banquets. It was not the inebriated that took away the prohibition." He made to lean back, as though that was the end of the story. Time for a break, time to speak of real things. He wanted to put something easy in this place with them.

But he was not a storyteller. He was a King fox.

And then, before he could really commit to falling back on the abused cushions of their seats, his thumb pressed firmly on her lower lip, to cut it on her own teeth. His eyes were stained again, like amber had caught black sand. She'd challenged, he was drawing his rapier. "But I live here, in the belly of this great centipede, and you're just sliding down the gullet now." he reminded her. "You don't know what I've declined on the way." On his thumb, held up for her to see like it was a mirror that would fill her with doubt. And then his face was close to hers, like the blood between them was some dear object of care for them both. He turned the digit to catch daylight with her little trail of life. "But I suppose it could have worn me down too." he mumbled to himself, thinking that Poppy Price's blood was as much of a treasure as any fine thing he'd been tempted with.

"I think, we'll be friends, either way." he concluded, but could not take his attention of the ruby spill.


Where you at, girl?

Sent. Dion chewed on on his pen, pouting into the endeavor as he watched Phaedra's smile on the screen. He wasn't usually so informal with her, not for an opener, but he was incredibly bored with academics now, if that was what you'd call this. His attempt at procrastinating through the little digital window was poorly concealed, but the teacher still didn't go through the trouble of asking the Price son where his attention went.

Dion's thumb went over the screen until he found his tracing application. He frowned. To what use? Phaedra should at least be somewhere around the school and Poppy had more than likely taken counter measures, already.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on May 25, 2017, 04:30:47 pm
It didn’t take long to understand Phaedra. That she was the sort of pliable flower that would bloom for any rain, thirsty for the experience. It said nothing of the girl’s heart, but spoke volumes of her mind and body. This was the best sort of arrangement for Sugar, who could not have cared about Phae’s beating organ any further than the possible tender of her chambers.

Sugar was apt to enjoy herself in most endeavors, subscribing strongly to placing herself at the center of any and all universes that mattered. She was not thinking very much about what Phaedra had come to her for, let alone about what Dion would think, as she pinned the dark-haired girl beneath her. Hand on her wrist, above her head, and her mouth on Phae’s blushing petals. Phaedra had the kind of eager eloquence in her tongue that most girls their age had already forgotten.

Phaedra’s phone, tucked in the waistband of her skirt between them, buzzed twice with an incoming message. Sugar was surprised to find it was enough for Phae to pull away and reach for the device. As if she thought she needed to explain, Phaedra wiggled the phone between them. “Sometimes, it’s work.” She said apologetically. Sugar shrugged and rolled off to the side.

“Ah, yes, you’re kind of famous in our school, right? Domestic helper at this age and all that. More than a few students are envious of your Dionysus.” Sugar yawned. Phae gave her a tight smile; she had heard people say similar things before and never been fond of the implication. Which was not to say that she would not have been gladly counted amongst Dion’s possessions, but that the same sentiment from anyone else was not on equal footing. She could be insulted by the very same desire she would have cultivated in her dearest friend. Sugar’s brows arched high. Telling expression on the little maid’s face and so much drama. “I think it would do you well to relax, sometime.” Sugar offered.

Phaedra said nothing, checking her message instead. Dion, not his father. It meant the matter was not urgent, probably, but that she cared for it more. It was short, and unfamiliar in tone, but Phae was immediately relieved to see that she was still on his mind. Poppy’s words had always seemed like slamming books to her, and she realized she’d been afraid that Dion would choose not to associate with her as much as Poppy had implied Phae should not associate with him.

I’m out with a friend. Please don’t tell I’ve skipped class.


Poppy couldn’t help herself. Even as her stare was fixed on the sliding bead of red down her fingertip, she had all the confidence in the world. It wasn’t even bravado, really, because Poppy did everything on purpose. “I don’t know, you’re correct,” She agreed. He had surely hovered on the edge of more frothing life than she’d care to imagine. “But you’ve never declined me.” Poppy said, which was necessarily true and unnecessarily brazen. She hadn’t moved a muscle when he slit her lip on her own weapon.

He held what he’d captured between them, pretty ruby sphere turning dark even as he fed it the sun. She was watching him watch her on the blade of his nail and it sparked some pride in her. “If friends means we can come to some agreement, I think that would be lovely.” Poppy answered, and let her own digits dig where he’d started her. It seemed like it must be a terrible thing to make a beautiful man bleed, but that only stirred more in the tight beat of her chest.

She was certain that he must be special, this Fox King, top shelf sort, inaccessible to most. If she was wrong, he was playing that role well enough that she was willing to bite. It was the norm of luxury, after all, to appreciate presentation as much as truth. Dion should have met this man, she thought, rather than dive into his pits. Dae was exquisite because he wore unreachable, where Dion was so eager she felt obligated to step over him. An awful thought toward her darling brother, for whom she’d made this trip to begin with. But then, in the same way there must have been some always dominating part of Dion toward their darling Phaedra, Poppy had always thought to own Dion.

These realizations were not exceptionally new or special, but, like her Hunger, she’d left to stew in the less-touched portions of her heart. She wore them for Dae now and did not hate what that made her. Instead she brought her mouth to his thumb, recapturing quickly the bead he’d stolen, and leaving three more against his skin in return. She let her teeth rake the tip of his thumb as she sat back, and scraped open a thin well to add his red to hers. Tiny artworks.       

Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on May 26, 2017, 10:32:13 am
They could be friends if it was beneficial to her. What a cold heart, his eyes said, with enough flavor to let her know it was a joke, also. She was always fencing, even when sitting down. Perhaps it was a good thing that this was his court and he'd decided to hold what she wanted a little tighter than most things, or Poppy's calculating soul would have snatched his agreement up like a passing viper. "Then let's be lovely." he said, and it was welcoming when he meant for it to sound judgmental. Dae was learning about himself, too.

Her face was talkative while her lips emitted the appropriate silence. He made no secret of that he was reading, but the nature of Daedalus's eyes were that they didn't intrude unless he meant to. This intimacy was close enough, he didn't need to invite himself by burning some mark on her cheek with his attention. It might also make her aware enough to take back what honesty she was displaying, now.

With all of that, he was still so engaged he held his breath when she took his thumb. What delectable texture her teeth had. He'd not felt that many sets, but the finality of the enamel touch was always a primal, nerve-close, kind of communication. Perhaps he'd scraped himself against those edges, too. Ah, brave woman, or well-informed, to nurture his eyes with hers while she hurt him. It made the pulse quicken under her pearly blades, and the blood richer for it.

He looked at the line she'd made on him, mulling over the possibilities. Two shades. His was darker, further from the lungs. All of his palm turned to her, spread, so that she could see the ore on the loneliest digit. "Look what you've done." to accuse, but their game wasn't petty. He took the hand back to dab into the first mark she made, and then brought his touch all the way through their little distance, to reach for her with glistening thimbles. It was only the knuckles that touched her, first, an innocent stroke when he was running out of untainted skin. "You made me bleed in my own house." he said and then finally turned the caress. Four lines to underline her cheekbone.

Elegant Poppy Price, with morbid blush on half her noble face. He'd taken care that the thickest line found its way to the corner of her already cut mouth. The balls of his folded fingers, still clean, lifter her chin so he could consider the skin on her neck, elevated out of the blouse. These were her contrasts then, pretty girl, wearing good brands, her birthright, but with other things - red, forest berry things - trying to sprout from inside. Rabbit through the thicket. She was more of thorns than she was a runner.
Daedalus wanted to stay close when she sat back. It started like he was closing them for a first kiss, head weighted to the side like so. Early, perhaps, but wasn’t drawing signatures from new wounds a greater intimacy? It didn’t matter. Before he could try the contact he suggested, he took the one he wanted, dropping lower on his way, wide breath lining her throat down before his jaws came hammer closed. He thought it would be glorious if he’d done it, grab her like a trampling trap, on either side, and lifted her by her windpipe like she was indeed a runner in white. Dignified and well assembled people like Poppy died best, whether it was by becoming undone, or expiring in a collected manner. But instead the collar of her blouse widened, like an exhale that kept the mouth wide, sans the button he’d undone with his bite.
He looked at her like he was innocent of the overstep he’d just committed, and then slid a red-capped digit and the artistic thumb into his plush mouth to retrieve the button. It left him with a smear on the corner of his lips and two halves of the button pinched. Had it all just been an excuse to drive their tastes over his tongue? He was enjoying himself royally.


Dion frowned at the reply. It was attractive like it is on cubs, and some of the admirers who were neglecting the teacher were further intrigued. He could not have been more indifferent toward them, blatantly tending to his device. She was fast to respond, Phae’s had a habit of that, and even the teachers gave her some kind of freecard with her phone since they knew of her duties outside of class. Still. Phae skipped class as often as she swore or ran the corridors naked. Or when he or Poppy convinced her.

I won’t tell.

It was profoundly unsatisfying to leave at that, so he picked the emotional technology up again, soon, to continue the conversation. Last time she’d been with a friend that he didn’t know, they were both bloody, in the end.

Don’t do something adventurous, Phaedra.

Dion forgot to treat her like she was dear to him, sometimes. Her and his sisters were the few that he ever thought of as people. Even though father and mother were to be revered, they felt a bit cold, painted on the vault of his skull, indeed like deities. He was going to leave the girl time to respond after his demanding message. Patience ran anemic faster than girls die in RV’s.

Phae. Tell me who you’re with. Please.

All friends close of the heart will pull at its strings, at some point. He didn’t like Phaedra’s new life.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on May 27, 2017, 07:19:42 pm
She had the kind of absurd sensibilities that came with a pampered upbringing. “That was expensive.” Poppy told him, flicking the words from between her teeth like spitting the button he held in his. She didn’t sound upset over it though, rather it seemed she thought he might actually need instruction. Or, at least, that this small offense made them even. He, altering her blouse, and she, altering his skin in his own chapel. It wasn’t right, but it might not have been wrong either.

Poppy watched him pluck the button out of his mouth and take in a little of their mingled taste in the motion. Lips curled, like he’d shown himself more honestly, but a fox honestly was still a fox. She withdrew her own hand, which had still been pressed on his throat, and took what had begun to dry there. He tasted new, something distinctly other from herself, when Dion had always shared her flavor in different shades. Soft sigh, like there was relief in that.

“You’re restrained.” She said, though he was enjoying himself however he wished, she was certain. Restrained, compared to her wildling brother still teething. Restrained, from the woman who held that like the greatest compliment. Perhaps she had expected a little more abandon from the king of the primal city.

Poppy leaned in toward him, an echo of his own posturing, and took the smear at the corner of his mouth on her tongue. It was a bit like they were playing truth or dare, acting out that request Dion had split their nostalgia with. She wondered if that amounted to betrayal and, for the first time in her life, considered she might be a hypocrite. She decided she didn’t care, if it was the case, being of a higher motivation. It was easy to rise above morality when settling into the role of a martyr. Daedalus had offered her that much.

She had shown herself to be bolder than she should have been, or fantastically self-confident, eating at the mouth of a strange wolf. Audacious, she licked her lip clean as the cut there continued to well with their continued agitation. “Show me more?” she asked, and it was honest curiosity masquerading as a challenge.


Phaedra squirmed when the phone quivered with more messages. Sugar was more insistent with her mouth this time, rolling herself back over the other girl and swatting the phone away from her hand. “Ignore it, or you won’t learn anything.” Sugar purred, a little more the predator Phae had met in the Fox Den.

It made her nervous, the rabbit shrinking from fangs because it was her nature. Sugar laughed, and pulled the phone from her when she reached for it. “Don’t waste my time, Bunny,” Sugar sighed. Phaedra made a sound of protest that rolled into a confused mewl against Sugar’s sweet tongue.

Let her have her adventures. You’re busy with yours.

Phaedra scrambled to grab the phone back when Sugar had had her way. “What did you… why would you do that?” Phae gasped. Sugar giggled.

“Haven’t you noticed how much attention he’s giving you, knowing you’re not with him?” Sugar yawned. Phaedra hadn’t considered it.

“I—“ Phaedra began, and then had no argument to return nor a thought left to express as Sugar’s slender fingers slid along her skin beneath her blouse.

Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on May 28, 2017, 02:24:06 am
Daedalus tried the integrity of the broken thing, pressing, as though verifying her claim of its value. He was not knowledgeable about what made a high quality button, but he wasn't about to doubt this woman on the subject. His attention came with her, instead, when she had a little of him, also. She approved, finger cleaned. Here she was, paying for another's exile, and the cost was the king's flavor. Perhaps there were such creatures that only lived on the froth and never on the bottom. In this crimson world there were societal highborn that wanted to take their status into the carnival, but even they, most of them, were rocked by their primal sides before they could attain any measure of control. Finery for novelty's sake is a devolving thing from the beginning. It seemed Poppy could be the exception.

"Either restrained, or I become the hunger itself." he informed her. It was in his voice that they'd prefer him now over the presented alternative. He waited for her when she lead with her mouth and did with her tongue. He turned into the slick visitation, a ginger lash, and responded by almost catching that pink ribbon with his lips when it retreated. It was satisfying to have felt the blade of her muscle, and he tried its trail with his own as he settled back to look at her with lighthearted approval.

"But there is no more." he replied with condolences in his voice, drowning in jest. Nevertheless he rested his shoulders low as though that had indeed been all this world had to offer her. A few intimate tastes, a little closeness, and then nothing. A calm in her wolf, then, because a fox needs its disguises, since it is not primarily a beast that gets its way through force. It was a game of patience for her, and for him, denial. They could rest in this vacuum for a while, like all things are quiet before they violently unfold.

And then, like his namesake, quick, he came to her face with his, when the ceaseless taunting of her birthing lip called him in. This kind of promise had already been in the air, but she could be surprised, if she'd read it wrong. It wasn't a kiss - not for all purpose, not without her help - when he suckled lightly on the little supply. Impossibly fresh and too thin too to be anything more than an aroma, not a texture, it filled the front of his head.

His inverted night skies, close now, hummed with their yellow rings around dark debris. Really, he was an apex soul with tungsten weights, considering his natural quarry with both immortal inclination and unwavering sobriety. A smile, with a vibrating hum, saying 'we have fun, don't we?' and then nonchalance to the side, almost like dismissal, but it was to remind her of the cut she'd make before. He pushed at the back of her head with his hand, formerly speckled, until she was at the little scratch with her breath. She could sync with the pulse underneath, if she wanted.

If she decided to take the invitation, his teeth were at her hairline, behind her ear, and he'd scrape her up there, following that border to give reason for his own tongue to collect.


He was ready for the subject to sleep, at least for the rest of this class. In fact, Dion had reclined and submitted to what diligent attention should look like. When the phone said with an awakening screen that he'd gotten a reply from his perfect maid, he thought he might not answer. For exactly half a moment he carried this cavalier, and then the phone was upright and unlocked. It took him a handful of attempts before he'd broken down the simple insinuation. And then he was swiftly out, leaving the teacher open mouthed and classmates with wrinkles in their faces.

Dion was rather abusive to his locker, uselessly rearranging books he wouldn't need, as though the space needed an explanation for why he wouldn't see it more today. It was more than he'd afforded anyone else. Perhaps it was to collect himself, also. When he realized it was his frantic pulling out and returning chemestry and math, he grunted and adorned the thin metal door with a dent so that it could forever identify its owner by the shape and size of his fist.

He should have fallen a handful of times, throwing himself into velocity so recklessly from the parking lot among the lush grass, but intent gives decided limbs, and he only wanted forward.

Poppy knew his eyes when he hurried for Phae. His older sister had sent him running home for someone when Phaedra had gotten too much sun and too little water, more than likely so that the two Prices could have enough, on a long hike under a high sun. He'd not remembered running that day, only waking up with bruises but with Poppy and a crying Phae by his bedside. He was on his way now, with similar obsession, triggering pockets of cacophonous complaint, because the only red light he followed was on the screen of his phone.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on May 30, 2017, 10:17:17 pm
“What a shame.” She replied, and settled into the arm of the sofa with a haughty smile. “I was thinking you were worth learning from.” Poppy said, certain he should realize it was a compliment. “You are more interesting than the others.” She said, because Dion’s Hunger had angered her and she had, by that alone, cast all others into the pit in his stead.

When he came near, she was ready for him. Poppy gave him her lip, a shared fruit, and it was more provocative to meet him that way than any romance of her tongue would have been. Her brother had been her first kiss, but the older boy at Dad’s party was the one she liked to count. It was the same now. Dion might have stolen her bleeding mouth first, but Daedalus would hold the title. King, and all of that. She licked the petal after he’d taken its flavor, taking for herself only a brief and echoing heat.

He didn’t leave this time, taking her hair against his palm like this was baptism, and she followed his invitation with teeth on his skin. She had been taught to dance when she was young, because high society still found that posh. Poppy hadn’t liked it much, being made to follow, so she’d excelled at it out of spite. This time too, there was some aggression, irritation that she was being made to prove anything and irritation that she was eager to do it.

The impending violence could not have been as lovely without it. She let her mouth wrap around the cut her thumb had made, teeth where his seam had already split, and tongue to catch the offering. His teeth found her as well, which made her dig her own harder into his flesh. She gasped when she felt her skin tear under his insistence. The audacity. Of her, or him, both were absurd. Poppy dug her fingertips into his shoulders and pulled herself closer to him so that she could more deeply taste the well of his pulsing throat.

It was a dangerous place to have put her, simple to tear at things that would have drained his life in minutes, but Poppy thought he must have done it on purpose and pulled with her teeth and her lips with a surgical sort of precision. Perhaps she meant to impress him.

A bit of red, his or hers, dripped onto the collar of her blouse. She’d said the garment was expensive, but it did not seem that she cared.


Danny rang Dion’s phone.

Your purchase is available for pickup until 8pm. Please reply when you’re on your way.

A sickly girl running low on her white powders, with good teeth but dark half-moons under her eyes, lay on the blood-stained covers of the old bed. The trailer smelled thickly sweet and it made her nauseous. Foul smells growing and seething beneath dollar bottles of spray potpourri. Her name was Agnes, and she was missing three fingers that she’d sold to hungry back ally customers. Bleach blonde hair cropped to her chin like it had been tidy, once. A little span of freckles that wasn’t as picturesque as Poppy but had probably been as effectively endearing to some neighborhood boy or another.

The ties on her wrists were chaffing and she wondered why anybody thought she’d run. Danny had promised her enough money to keep her high for a week if she survived the night, and she supposed it was just as well if she didn’t.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on May 31, 2017, 01:08:04 pm
The King of nightly feasts hadn’t had many lovers. He was theoretical on the subject, it had to be left somewhere in the wake of his calling, but his heart, kept raw every night that he watched the tainted eyes of the banquet patrons, was not immune like the god he liked to dub himself. And so the reciprocating from her lips was effectual. A gasp that wasn’t allowed to live, a groan that he leashed. But he was also not a sheltered school boy who raised his hand for Poppy Price’s attention. Her annoyance at his throat was rewarding, somehow. They were kin when his teeth raked her skull in the littlest way. Her hair smelt clean and like blood now. How perfect.

More of her teeth. Hah, what delight, after all this time. If he was teaching her something of her brother, that sacrifice, he was struggling to remember the drive-home point. The hand trailed down the back of her head so she could retreat if she wanted to, his fingers starting a slide at the top of her spine. He licked at the blood he’d called for behind her ear, and then caged it in a similar way to how he’d caught her lip. Thin skin, ready to let loose for his suction, but he wasn’t going to be some violent youngling diving head first into a beautiful thing. Press of his tongue would hush the flow, and then his breath to harden the red. As intended, the scratches were buried behind her hairline. Little secrets she didn’t have to tell at brunch.

It might have been passionate, his cheek to hers to hold her in place, but it was mostly for the sake of their deal, to endear her to his taste, trap her against it, to their flavors in general. He couldn’t fool Poppy into a frenzy like this, but might warm her up to one, or frenzy her pulse, a little bit. Then, at risk of peeling himself a wider wound, his chin stroked her cheekbone to wrench her from him, if there was a need for it. His forehead to hers, little red fangs rolling from the corners of his mouth. From here, he could see the speck on her collar, and lifted that starched flap on his finger, and examined it with his thumb.

More interesting than the others. He should like not to disappoint, then. “Look at the mess here.” Your clothes, my skin. “If I were king of any other instance it would be abhorrent.” He said to the stain and broke the touch of their heads. “In fact, I do have a meeting.” He lied. What times did the prophet have to keep but the ones of his element? And their element was patient, and moved mostly at night. “Am I presentable?” with my red lines and freshly hurt skin. How long his neck was then, and no secret about his meaning in his eyes. “Any tidying up needed?”


Dion was in such a haste that he’d easily ignore the vibrations, but there was a stretch of road that allowed him to spare one arm, and perhaps Phae was writing something paramount, or Sugar was bragging about Phae’s flavor in a way that would let him know there’d be no childhood friend for him, at least not her soul, when he arrived. Not a written message. With hubris born from an innate carless and a present urgency, he still checked. Excitement flared the eyes above the bandana but it couldn’t sway the crusading hungry, of course. Such lavish living had to wait. Eight, he’d said. He was barely able to put the device back before an ill intent corner wanted to introduce him to an ill intent wall.

He found his way to the motel soon, and tossed off the helmet after wrenching out his key. A fervent dismount, Mr. Price, it will cost you a perfect score. His stress was boiling his chest, and though it was disguised as worry – there was a good helping of that in his mood, too – he was propelled primarily by the feeling a large cat harbors when it sees another just like it among its trees, and an emotion akin to the desperation he felt when her mother decided to take her away for a monthlong visit in Singapore, the first time it happened. It might have been hard finding the door if it wasn’t the only one that seemed recently used.

He’d danced with Poppy when she was learning, but the charge at the barrier was hostile enough to have been learned on the field, rather, even if the last stretch was a long-legged, true to form leap that collided one shoe adamantly against the flimsy wood. Dion rolled in, the force unwarranted for such a claimless obstacle. The door swung closed. Rising, he looked around, vicious, burning on the adrenaline cooking him from the inside. “Phae?” first, concern. And then wrath. “Dulcinea?” Teeth then.

The bed, where else. He didn’t know he’d made Sugar right in her observation, point written in his violent entrance. When he saw them, woven like the best thing, Sugar all but eclipsing his Phaedra, something akin to fire took the fight out the flame that had been masquerading as rage. “Get off her.” Dion said inside a snarl, but he was advancing slower, leashed slightly by the new thing in the air. This room wasn’t inviting scolding or vengeance anymore, not the way they laid. He recognized himself and tossed an arm to the side, as though the new scorch could be shaken off like rain from leather. “Phae, come here.” He ordered, hand out, but there was no real conviction in the fingers, only residual wreath. And his breaths were deeper than they had been coming in from running into the locker rooms.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on May 31, 2017, 11:26:01 pm
Sugar was languid, rolling gently off Phaedra like the violence of his entrance hadn’t bothered her. Or, at least, it hadn’t surprised her. Cigarette glow eyes and clean lips. She stared at Dion like he should be ashamed of himself, barging in on innocent lovers. “Men,” she said, half smile and a glance toward Phae.

The other girl was flustered. She pulled at her blouse and adjusted her skirt, flushed cheeks and a poor attempt to steady her breath. Sugar nearly laughed, because Phaedra was embarrassed but not ashamed. “I wasn’t aware you owned her.” Sugar hummed, propping her cheek on her hand as she lounged. She couldn’t be bothered to correct her dishevel. “You should have told me if it was like that, Bunny,” she said to Phae, teasing when she should not have been.

“I’m sorry if I worried you. I’m fine, Dion.” Phaedra mumbled, sitting up and tucking her hair behind her ears. She didn’t go to him like he asked, though. “Dulcinea wasn’t doing anything wrong.” Phae offered, defending this girl the way she’d defended Dion to his own parents so many times before. She squirmed, as if her own will wasn’t enough. “Poppy said I shouldn’t see you.” She said.

Sugar shrugged. “I can go, if you need some private time.” Innocent enough, if it hadn’t been for the wicked tilt of that suggestion for a beast like Dion, Deerest. A taste in the air that Dulcinea was a safer friend for the rabbit caught between their wolf jaws. “She could show you what she’s learned, maybe.”

Sugar picked herself up off the bed then, like her thin limbs carried too much weight, and shuffled toward the door. She was unconcerned as she passed Dion by. “She has nice lips, you know? I think maybe they’re wasted on your appetite.” She left like the dying light, dirty through the window pane.

Phae had not moved from the bed and she’d found her hands clasped in her lap. Repentant poses, always. This was, after all, as defiant as Phaedra had ever considered being in her life. It was a fine irony that it was Dion himself that had given her the confidence to land in this old room. She recognized that, but said nothing of it. Martyrs were idiots if they gave voice to their sacrifices. Disrupted the art. “I was hoping you’d come though,” she said. A different sort of honesty when Sugar was gone. Like she’d thought to protect the pale girl. Like they were friends.


Poppy thought his tongue must have been his most vulgar muscle. She was acutely aware of where he gave himself space to play and where he restrained his appetite. It pleased her, in an odd way, to find her taste must have been palatable. She gave him similar compliments with her own mouth.

It was far beyond her nature to be a desperate creature, so she was polite when he pulled her from him though her breath was quick over his lips with his forehead against hers. He thought to offend her, claiming more pressing things on his time, she believed. But he must have been a better king than she, or better at games, when she realized he was playing still. “No, hardly so.” She answered. “If you’re going to see your loyal fans, you’ll brew a frenzy. If you’re going to see polite company, you’ll brew a panic.” She inclined her head. “Both would be pitiful for a king.”

So, she did the kind thing, the one he was offering her, and closed the distance between them again to clean the wound she’d made and the mess on his skin. Sat back when she was satisfied with her work, like it had been a practical favor, and even reached to adjust his clothes like she was supposed to see him off to his business. “I can accept that you must have other things on your schedule,” a lie, probably, “but I think we should properly conclude our business first.” She suggested. As if she’d done enough to win her brother’s exile.

“Are we agreed? I can have a list of reasonable haunts for your affairs by tomorrow afternoon. We could arrange a schedule for updating those locations as necessary. I can even have the places you choose outfitted as you like.” All business, whenever she could be. “Unless you have further disputes with my proposition?”

And it was almost as if she was hoping he might ask her for more. As if Poppy Price had ever wanted to please anybody in her life. 
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on June 01, 2017, 01:14:09 pm
Through the atmosphere this motel carried, heavy like fall outwear - hues of used nuances and surfaces cleaned too many time but not often enough - Sugar still stood out with her lack of color. She was as shaken as he could have expected her to be. He should have been similarly prepared for Phaedra to be lovely, a flower unfurling its bell at dawn, too wide, to then retract a little, but not at the cost of loveliness. But Dion was not ready for that. He could be faulted for adoring her with a chamber of his heart that was a bit neglected, now that he had so many other things to feel. He'd been surprised over his connection to her a lot, lately.

If he should have taken offense on Phae's behalf when Sugar teased about her belonging to the ruffled, posturing boy, he made no sign of it. It wouldn't be so hard to assume that Phaedra's favoritism and Dion's general attitude left him thinking that yes, she was his in such a way that this kind of meeting was a breach of their relationship. He was a little stricken, even, when the embarrassed girl did not remind Sugar of this. In fact, only Dulcinea listened to his opening orders, here. Sweet, that she’d insist on Sugar’s lack of fault, when it was abundantly clear he couldn’t do anything to make Sugar regretful, anyway. Perhaps, to Phaedra, the biggest punishment was to simply be wrong.

“So you were going to listen to her?” Poppy. That was unacceptable. Not that Poppy would issue the order, but that Phae might obey. How hurtful, though the boy about someone he sometimes treated like an object. He wanted to scold her with the breath he’d gotten back, but it was always hard to lecture her.

He much preferred Sugar’s offer to leave, and his bitten-down frown accepted. That stern dissolved into perplex, and then wider eyes when she suggested her bit about Phaedra’s new prowess. He turned to look at his pretty friend left on the bed, when the ghostly colored one stood. He’d been planning to hold Sugar back, strength over cadence, all that, but he’d been weakened by the implication – this place had provided enough privacy for Sugar to do all kinds of damage to Phae’s morality – so his hand coming out to catch a milky to translucent limb barely caressed her with his knuckles as she went by. About Phaedra’s lips, with the pointed arches and gathering corners, he knew, already – like her artist had flicked her mouth up and down with a single finger for spite before she’d dried - but Sugar put it in such a suggestion his hand that had failed to stop her fell, lax. It seemed the maid was a great weakness of the otherwise rambunctious prince wolf, if Dulcinea was recording. Maybe Phaedra could serve as reigns or a tourniquet yet, if she was wielded by someone with a darker heart than herself, be it sister or new acquaintance.

“Did you?” Hope that I’d come. It should have been spoken with poisonous doubt, chin lifted. He liked to put on that kind of performance. He had said it with hesitation, rather, the beginning of a studded. He didn’t like a Phae that knew these games. Sugar to blame, surely. Dion did not primarily aim guilt at himself, it was not the kind of handsome he was.

What she said lastly held an invitation. So we’re done defending the ivory girl? He came to her on the bed. Somewhere along the way his jacket was discarded, gaping sleeves and hollow body. How easy it would be for Phae to conceive Sugar as a mage then, because he’d been rendered focused, just as Phaedra had wanted from this venture. “You mustn’t talk to that girl anymore, Phaedra.” He said, and it was a plea. “Why do I keep finding you with her?” a bit of frustration in teeth. He reached out to touch her cheek with an unsure but affectionate hand, like her face and his palm had been lovers once, and were now reunited to discover each other again. “Do you like her?” he asked, and he was still holding anger up on his shoulders, but it was left-over strength from how he’d gotten here, mostly there was just that bit of betrayal in his voice. Do you like her more than me? Too often in the past her feelings had been expressed with obedience and indulgence for her rebellion now not to suggest a kind of liberation from him.

His other hand came underneath her blouse, where Sugar’s had been, stroking her skin like he was trying to dust the always hungry girl off. Dionysus was trembling as he inclined closer. It seemed the touch under her top was of his body’s opinion, that Phaedra should be enjoyed now, that she’d almost been claimed by another. But the loving sentiment in his contact to her face wanted comfort. This quivering person, leaning closer with his shoulders and away with his head - he wouldn’t even look at her, if she was breaking free from him - was perfectly divided between the volatile, spoiled heir, and the satin soul she believed in when she defended him. He needed her to soothe him, indulge him, in some way. He had been strung so taut on his way, and great stresses need great mending, too.

Maybe it was hurtful for the girl who’d wanted only to trigger his two hungers towards her, and now that he was being undone in those places, the tongue and the heart, Dionysus himself was the only one fighting. He didn’t want to be the fire in her martyrdom. Perhaps Phaedra was the only person Dion had ever thought he should take care of. So her demise on his teeth would be all the sweeter, like a sacred thing finally bloodied, but that kind of love was also the kind that fought itself. “Do you want her to put marks on you?” he demanded, the boy quartering in all the heartfelt bloodthirst he held for her. He was clawing at her stomach now, tenting her blouse. Perhaps, somewhere between consumption of love, and consuming lust, this particular hunger flared.

Sugar had been more effective than she intended.


Daedalus thought he saw some pleasant offense in her. It was good to elicit emotions in a porcelain thing such a Poppy. He enjoyed it like a fine rarity. He titled in the best angles for her, eyes closed when she pinched with her lips and erased with the tip of her tongue. His head was filled up with electricity. In the end he didn’t feel clean or vacant, but magnificent from her grooming. He should have had a meeting, he thought, feeling like a king in the most superficial sense, too, now.

It was with a very telling expression that he listened to her when she called him back to their deal. Dae was above personal chemistry in this setting, having deemed it secondary, but that also meant he was more sensitive to it, if he let it in. Perfect poise Poppy Price was a mouthful, but it tasted right. “What a watertight arrangement.” He rewarded, and in his voice she’d know there’d be more,  indeed. “But you didn’t think your trepidation would be over just like that, did you?” It was, and not by a small part, because he would like to continue seeing her. “I’m scrumptious, I know, but I can’t embody this new age alone. I need to show you more.” That much was true. This was all his life, after all.

So Dae stood, and held his hand down for Poppy with the tell-tale lingonberry detail on her collar sans its top button. He didn’t have a meeting, but he could very well drop by a few places that painted the hunger in its right hues. He’d win her over yet, and if he didn’t, this would be an amusing way to spend his day, anyway. The business man that had called Dion about the powder attached girl would soon receive a message.

If you have a better car, come to the boutique./Fox

And to Dulcinea, who was known for her picturesque handling of her fellow hungry.

Sent you an address. Please find yourself there for a treat in exchange for a performance./Fox

There was a boy who was up and coming, he should be a good metaphor for her rowdy brother. Sugar might underline his desperation well to Poppy.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on June 02, 2017, 01:42:15 am
Poppy shrugged. “I don’t know how you keep your deals.” She answered. But she hadn’t thought it would be over. Or, she’d been hoping he’d demand more. She’d scorned his appeals to self-sacrifice, but here she was unfolding those exact excuses in her head. It was all for Dion, in the end. She had to knock some sense into him. Had to bring him home. “But, I hadn’t thought I’d find you so fast.” She said. “So, I suppose I can oblige.” Like she was still holding the advantage and doing him a favor. She took his hand when he offered it.

“Why do you encourage this?” she asked, sweeping gesture with her free arm, and meant the Dens and all the feasting. “Particularly when you seem to value, or at least understand, the merits of restraint.” Poppy had let go of his hand when she’d been helped to stand, but then hooked her arm in his with a fluid motion that expected escort. She was clearly used to that treatment and hadn’t considered anything else from the vagabond King.

“It almost seems spiteful.” Poppy suggested. Because encouraging Dion to snap his teeth was gouging an irreparable rift in the tender seams of their family. It could only be spiteful to smile as she watched him go. Love had brought her to Daedalus’ door, even if intrigue was making her stay. “I could never encourage my brother to be so gluttonous,” she paused, “Not that he seems to require encouragement.” Rueful, then.

“But, show me what you like. It would be rude to plant my feet so firmly when I came hoping to strike a mutually beneficial agreement.” Poppy added, polite smile that was, perhaps, a shade more friendly than she’d intended. But Daedalus had imposed something intimate on her and she was not immune to beautiful things, which put him among a select few souls that had piqued her interest to any enthusiastic degree.


Phaedra shrugged helplessly. “I don’t want to upset either of you. You’re both very dear to me.” She said. It shouldn’t have surprised him that she was thinking that way. It should have surprised him more that she was thinking of ways around her own conscience. Dangerously, too, if Sugar had become an agent of action. Phae didn’t like the way he sounded unsure. It was unlike Dion to be unsure of anything to do with her. She had always felt he had mastered her heart better than she had, herself.

“I hadn’t meant to find her the first time.” Phaedra explained, like he wasn’t aware. “I had wanted to find you, or where you’d been. I hadn’t heard from you for days.” She said, picking at the hem of her skirt like she ought to feel guilty for that kind of audacity. “Dulcinea isn’t some monster, anyway. She was just—“ Phae wasn’t sure what to say then, because ‘teaching me to be what you want’ seemed like too much to offer. He’d never reached for her heart when she’d offered it openly. That was why she’d come to this, in the first place. “Well. We weren’t doing anything I wasn’t alright with. She didn’t come after me.” Phae murmured.

She closed her eyes when he touched her cheek. “I don’t dislike her.” She answered, which was true. And Phaedra could still taste Dulcinea burning on her tongue. It had been pleasant and new, and she’d not felt unsafe. Somehow, the plainness of their agreement made their connection secure. Easier to navigate than Dion, who had always seemed like a maze of wrong turns to her. At every beat of her heart, she’d been met with banal kindness when she’d wanted a fire. At the single instance she’d had a chance at a spark, he’d snuffed it beneath unevenly footed I love yous that still rang out of tune in her head. Sugar and the simple and untethered delights of their bodies had the potential for a sanctuary.

Which meant that she must have liked Dulcinea more than she said and more than she yet realized, because it had taken her years to blossom into her desire for Dion. “But, I’ve just met her and…” it was fine that Dionysus quieted her with his touch to her skin, because she’d not had a thought to end what she’d started. Her breath hiked, immediately flustered, and she wondered if Sugar must know all the truths in the world that Dion would already be here like this.

Phae didn’t move away, gently reaching to touch his shoulders like she owed him an apology. “Why are you so worried?” she asked quietly, and realized she wasn’t happy the way she ought to be. He was distraught when she’d hoped for possession, and she wondered if it was impossible to be the right sort of woman for the Dion she wanted. He was rougher with her, which made her tremble, but she remained as close to him as he’d come to her. Had Dulcinea known this sudden conflict brewing, too? The pale girl had laughed when Phae had gone to her first. She blinked at the question, throwing her back into the present and Dion’s distress.

“She doesn’t need me. Or… I don’t want her to need me or care if she does.” Phaedra said slowly. “I only ever wanted you and Poppy to need me.” And his sister’s name was such a thin disguise for the offers she’d laid out to him just the night before. Poppy, who’d never admitted to needing anyone and would never bare her starvation like her brother. Phae had always found her worth in Dionysus. She gripped his shoulders a little tighter. “I really just wanted to understand you better.”


Sugar lit a cigarette and puffed the smoke at her phone screen. She wasn’t one of the Fox King’s worshippers. Sugar had no desire for cults she could not be the center of. But, she didn’t dislike him or the havens he carved into the city. He provided stages for her to flaunt her perfect blood and muscle and so many that went to the Dens were desperate for new gods. He could be the Fox and she would be the Spider.

Good treats, I expect.

She wandered toward the bus stop and wondered what could possibly have prompted him to ask for her bones on the menu. “Must be special.” She said to the cool air. 

Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on June 02, 2017, 12:21:00 pm
He thought she might not let him help her up at first, but was happy to apply steady to her rise. How seamless. He wanted to extend the motion, and thought to spin her. That would make this something else. Her question was just like her. He put some of the wild hair back behind one ear as he smiled as though they'd know each other for decades. "Restraint is paramount, isn't it?" he agreed, but that wasn't the answer she wanted now. He would guess they had a similar relationship to the concept.

"What will this city do if its foremost crimson shepherd also eats the grass all the time?" It was as simple as that, if he thought about it. "If I slip into the bliss I want to share there will be no one to do the work." In the end, Poppy had to understand that to understand her brother. Dae might want that deeper now, because then she could also understand him. He didn’t like being spiteful, because that meant he’d kept more of the person which meant there was less space for the prophet. Still, she was astute, so he confessed with a little nod, absent-eyed.

Their arms fit well together. He’d not been so familiar with someone in a while. Poppy was a charming woman when she thought you were worth her time. “But that’s what I’m trying to do, isn’t it? Incite gluttony in yourself, so that you can forgive your brother his tastes.” Poor boy, who might very well have his society taken away from him, but also fortunate, because Poppy cared enough to make this journey for him. It seemed, by the face she showed, that she wasn’t entirely disliking this tour, though.

He should like to see her as a force within his circles. It was almost out of place, the image of her living out her life without indulging in the light he saw inside her. “You know,” he said as they went down the stairs, away from the cushions of their first confession. “if you decide my arguments are valid, and your brother has your blessing, or even your begrudged allowance, I would open the ranks for you.” She had said to stop her brother from social rise, and now she was offered it, instead. Control for Ms. Price. “If nothing else, that would let you keep an eye on him, yes?” he pressed as he opened the car door. Danny always delivered, and knew what was good for the king was good for business.

Dae wondered if Poppy would be uncomfortable in this vehicle, he’d not been able to confirm if Danny had access to prim transportation, but hoped she had placed enough trust in him that she would at least go along. “So, if you find yourself being swayed by anything in our starving constellations, you have no reason to think you’re putting your brother in a raft and sending him off in a sea you can’t predict, if you agree.” The Fox King, if you could believe it, was also cunning. He had said that he could convince her for their agreement, but he wasn’t above employing other enticements than red and heat to gain ground. He trusted fully in this world, after all, and its temptations.

He made a pleasant line with his mouth as his background became the city moving by at pace of Danny’s acceleration. “There are powerful people celebrating the Carnival, Poppy. I think you’d like to have a say.” It could only be a good thing if she saw use in the element. The same as hunger for sustenance, it could be utilized for other advancements.

Soon they would be by an old office building. He’d picked it especially for the sign it wore. It was scheduled to be rebuilt by the Price Group. Coy smile, as though he was surprised when the metal plate said her family name.

A boy would be waiting, sour like spoiled pretties are when kept waiting. Long in design with a brown nest on his head, very deliberate, over and around green eyes. Street clothes from expensive counters. Was the lad anything like her brother, expecting the world simply because he craved it? Surely Sugar could teach him some humility through taboo gastronomy. Dae would completely ignore the boy, since he was a prop, and the King’s attention was already spoken for, by the pressed and straightened woman.


A little contraction, like the beginning of a wolf’s threat, on his right-side upper lip when she said Sugar was dear to her, too. That kind of relationship was strictly forbidden, he decided. The line she drew between his own negligent behavior toward her and her fate funneling toward Dulcinea was bright, and the color cut him. Phaedra never accused, and that was why the points she made were truer, and hit harder, if you allowed yourself to see them. It was also strictly forbidden to be alright with this kind of meeting. He was sure even Poppy would agree. Dion’s heart felt weighted, full of ripening jealousy.

She cuddled beautifully into his hand. His gentle soul with the razor words. All this proclamation, that were only really answers that he asked for, were upsetting him at the very base of his ego. And how dirty it was, that she became so much more precious when Sugar stayed like an apparition all over her. He thought he could smell the daytime ghost on Phaedra’s heart, even. Her lovely at his hidden touch hurt him, because it pulled at him so violently.

“I’m worried for you.” He tried her suit, to fit into the role of a martyr, but it wasn’t his kind of tailoring. Phaedra always made him something he wasn’t usually. “I’m worried you’re going to do something that’s dangerous.” He continued. Dion had been cornered by his toxic narcissism and his always-bond with this girl. He laid on her, and he knew she would let him. Sometimes the beats she felt against her were from his heart, and sometimes they were the bellies of trembles. Unsure Dionysus, gravitating toward her, finally. His hand, underneath, glided further, locking around her ribs to examine her. He’d never held her like this.

He’d only practiced being in love with a caricature of Poppy. So easy, because she was perfect, and defended herself against taboos so well. Now the feeling was drawn out with Sugar’s plot between them. Adoration couldn’t be just theory, anymore. A thumb over the bridge of her nose, as though he’d never seen her. “There’s only this to understand.” He said, and it should have been honeyed, but it was a little vile, even though most of it was meant to ricochet off her features and stick back on him. He kissed her, and it was nothing like they’d had in the city. It was firm like she was the surface holding him under water. Again she was his avatar of comfort - Phaedra would dispel, Phaedra was his well of absolution. So would she take the kiss as an explanation? So hard their teeth almost met, and so desperate he smelt like tears without wearing them? Boy undone.

Selfish Dion, who couldn’t think to save his soul if he could satiate his mouth, always being awakened to a better self when he danced with his maid. “I need you.” He promised to her plea that hadn’t been a question. He’d not even heard his sister’s name in that. “But I need to destroy you.” He explained as his fingers clutched her ribs harder. And there it was, as plain as he could draw the truth, at this moment. “S-she touched you.” Said between them as the hand that had loved her face was pulling her collar apart. That little destruction wanted more. He gasped like he was delighted, and hummed like he was afraid and appalled of that.

Her skirt was already lifted around its waist, so that his hips could have her around him, pushing at whatever shielded her, last. So there was that, too, that Sugar had said was almost like the hunger. “There is only this to understand about me.” Like educating her wasn’t a favor, but her sentence. He pulled her closer, lifting her by the two sides of her opened blouse, which of course pressed her unprotected apex and his hips closer, too. He pushed her back into the mattress like she was his frustration itself. He knew she was going to bleed for him now, so that she didn’t die for him, too.

“I don’t want you seeing her again.” He muttered, strangled by this hunger that laced with their love. He clawed at her face, without nails, to turn her head. Neck as pretty as always. Something broke in his throat when he inhaled. It was probably his own lock on desire. Maybe it had been unfair of Phaedra to scorch him like this, to be his friend that never did wrong, that he owed her solace of a confession, and to be beautiful, so that he could imagine her with him , very well, and to make herself a commodity, fast going to someone else, so that he would want her with his pride and fear, too. How was the boy she’d help spoil going to stand up to that? So he didn’t. Mercy, or forethought, or passion’s forgetfulness had him target the angle instead of the columns of her throat so she could still hide any mark with a chaste top. “Say that you won’t.” He demanded on her skin before his teeth clasped tighter, so that the resistance in her flesh bid him deeper. He moaned quietly, miserably at the taunting texture. How come he was always trying his hardest to save her, and she was taking to unravel all his efforts?


There was no response for Sugar, but how could the King have anything less for her than the kingdom’s best?
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on June 06, 2017, 09:09:25 pm
Danny had not secured another vehicle, though he’d made the effort to clean his trash heap of a car. When he caught Dae’s eye, he shrugged helplessly. Danny wasn’t too worried about impressing people, but he wasn’t fond of disappointing the Fox King. They had an agreement, more or less. Helped each other out when they could, and Danny had profited nicely from his business in the suburbs.

Danny was a little less blasé when he saw Dae’s company. It seemed Deerest’s sister had gotten lucky. How fortuitous. He wondered if she’d told him that Danny had sent her. He hoped not. It wasn’t as if he’d known the Fox would be hiding in that particular Den, but there had been a non-zero chance and Daedalus had not taken kindly to being revealed on anything but his own terms, in the past. Then again, Dae could have lied. From the way the two held each other’s company, he was certain that Dae had not.

“Oh,” Poppy said, and it might have sounded like she meant the car but she was looking at Danny. No further comment on that front, though, and she was surprisingly amenable to the shabby carriage. She tucked into the back seat with a discordant primness; she must have run in circles that didn’t make the front page too. That was Poppy Price, though, who wore rules like a crown and lived as she pleased.

“I won’t say your world doesn’t interest me, Daedalus.” Poppy said neatly, “But I came to exchange services, not sell you my soul alongside his.” There was some humor in that, a little lightness in her that said she hadn’t hated any of this so far. Said, maybe, that she was waiting. Dance for me. Amuse me. It would have been condescending aimed at anyone but him. In this old, puttering car, she was just intrigued. Coddled girl looking for rebellion, maybe. From her own restrictions, no less.

“I’ll admit I’d prefer to be in the know. I’d prefer to be able to guide, where I could.” Distant thoughts, the way she’d always made the rules to their childhood games.  She shook her head. “It’d be better just to keep him out. I’m sure… I’m sure he has other sources near home.” She was staring fixedly at the back of Danny’s head then. Danny didn’t confirm, but he didn’t deny.


Sugar let herself into the place the Fox had sent. It was cool like the outside air and the lights weren’t on. She took the time to appreciate that kind of sentiment, the unlived-in spaces that held the worst sorts of acts. Where there were memories it was easy to conjure the ghosts of affection and remorse. It didn’t matter if it was true. Briefly, she wondered how her little Bunny friend was holding up and if Dionysus Price had yet snapped her neck. “She doesn’t know how to love it yet. I didn’t get that far.” Sugar hummed softly; suggestions to a desperate boy who couldn’t hear her. “Better be good for her, she’s trying too hard.” She swallowed a tart little laugh.

It was hard to know if Dulcinea had any real sympathy for Phaedra, or if it was just the recognition of potential. Creatures eager to be worshipped are drawn to subjects with abject and beautiful hearts.

“Knock, knock,” Sugar said, rapping her fist against the doorframe in time as she came to the formal dining room. Old city flat with outdated flare. Lovely. There was a boy, and the sight of him made Sugar grin because the Fox King was too clever to do things by accident. “You remind me of someone I know.” Cocky little princeling, at the head of the table with an appetite.


Phaedra had been known to experience Dion on her own terms. Always, he was flawless and sweet behind his rich boy swagger. She had seen him as quietly vulnerable and gentle because she had grown up with him and tucked his innocence away, with hers, in the folds of her skirt. Often, it had been wrong of her and Poppy had told her as much. Phae had been so very good a pining for him though. It had been so pretty for her nature.

It was strange for her now, then, cast in the space between Dion’s grip and Dulcineas’ kisses, that she saw a real thrashing thing in him. Something violent and bold that she’d shooed away with her fairytale prince ideals. She met him for the first time, breath fast and dark eyes wide, and believed he must be the only desire of her soul because she could love this Dion as fiercely. It made her a bit proud of herself, to see him that way and want him, like she was being just a bit naughty and doing it for him. As if she’d forgotten her boldness the night before, or had somehow seen herself as innocent still.

She didn’t want to be innocent, which had been her intent from the start. Phaedra had only ever wanted to dirty her hands for him. Her lips spoke volumes of that desire when he took them, and it was earnest and eager. She could have been a perfect darling, unspoiled and sweet, if she hadn’t also been looking for his pleasure with whatever inklings of finesse she’d formed against Dulcinea’s responsive mouth. It was a bit terrible that she’d done it for him, and was only hoping to be what he wanted now. If she’d had the sense to consider it, she’d realize she’d only ever been petitioning to lose herself in Dionysus, and that was hardly a respectable sense of self.

When he told her he needed her, she gasped. And she didn’t care that he was being rougher than she’d pictured in her daydreams, or that his teeth hurt and she was trembling like she was frightened. “Am I good enough for you, then?” she asked, a little strangled when her own breath was coming shallow and fast, warm thighs entreating around his hips. And it was a curious thing, his hold her fate and her hold on his. What could he say that she would accept and understand? She’d be dead before she could be enough if he hadn’t learned restraint, so he could kill her or lie or both. And she could moan and arch and bleed for him, and crawl back to Dulcinea and ask to be more.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on June 07, 2017, 09:35:09 am
The little tattle that Poppy's familiarity with Danny told was efficient in telling her story. So that was how she'd come across the boutique. It wasn't forbidden to look for the king, but in revealing great forest creatures there is always an expected amount of finery. Presenting the Price girl at his door, though, was perhaps more of a point in Danny's favor than anything else. The Fox King smiled to himself but made no other mention of it. At least Danny would know this was alright.

Poppy was still set on the way she'd started on, not yet swayed by a seat at some crimson council. The day would have to go on in the direction it was headed, and Dae would have been disappointed otherwise. Not that folding her in had been bad, either. The smile was gone from his lips but the casual mirth wasn't when he looked at her. "I'm sure." he agreed at both things she'd said. Good day for Danny, either way, if Poppy Price decided he was the royal supplier to heir court, even if he'd simply be compensated for nothing. The Price group had coffers to buy red cuts for all the meals of the day.


Hane met her with practiced disapproval. Though his fortune was smaller than Dion's, his was at least entirely available to him still, and he was used to getting his way, being an only baby. So he was less refined and more expectant than the Price Prince he was filling in as. Still, the better-than-all expression went away when he truly saw Dulcinea. Curious, though he fought it. A board room that had seen better days, an oval space encased in glass which was strangely well polished. A scene, made. And he was in the middle waiting for her.

"You're intressting." which meant she looked expensive to him.

Unlike Sugar's Dionysus, Hane's green eyes were not aiming to be pleased by her, neccesarilly, when he came to greet her, but he did expect some entertainment. This was a clue to his tastest. Voracious for sensory treasure, but that could come from using his own teeth or feeling hers. Fawn like, with those arms and legs, but one that had never been told of wolves. His hand on her shoulder, squeezing once as he circeled her, though, suggested his manners weren't much better than the boy Sugar had left with the maid.

"Hane." he said as the inspection was complete, him towering over her again, from the front. He wasn't touching her anymore but he was visibly eager to. Not as much purpose as Dionysus. In all ways he was a lighter composition, which meant he might taste so, as well.


Dion hummed with disapproval at her question. She should have just submitted to never meeting their comon ghost again. It was frustrating on a level he'd never known with Phaedra before. The girl was prone to listen to Poppy over him, and he accepted that because he was by far the least persistent of the siblings - he also admitted Poppy was his elder - but Phae was choosing Sugar over him, in a way. It didn't cross his mind that the pale bloodied was Phaedra's bridge to him.

And still, something kept him from scolding her too much about this. Because every time Phae put Sugar somewhere between them, Phae became a bit more honeyed. He tried not to give Sugar the credit in his mind, of course. "Isn't that our trouble, that you're too good?" he meant for flavor, of course, but there was no doubt Phae was a good human specimen, too. It was cruel that he was too addled by their moment to tell her that. He was not too far gone into a disarray to consider that this was not what she deserved. And still, with all the love he didn’t confess to, he couldn’t let her be.

He hurried to save her then, to spare what he could. Care stands in the way of passion, and so he was a shaking thing, barely flicking her buttons open and pulling her blouse away. He’d seen as much in their city flat, yesterday. Sugar’s mark and his, as though a person with jaws like a shark had at her. He was fighting himself with this courtesy to his friend. This was really kinder than he was. Like an addict looking for veins, but not on himself, his fingers tried her ribs and her stomach, up her covered breasts and then her neck. Maybe Phae could feel for him then, where he stood in the delta, lust led him here, and love and hunger divided. Maybe she could glimpse the star of love on the white of his eye where it met with dark and green. He was a monster, but he was looking for a place to practice so that it wouldn’t show, to make as little trouble for her as possible. Vanity, projected?

In the end, with a frustrated huff, he undid her bra and moved down her body, stomach scraping her where she parted as he kept her legs around him. Hoping to quell two fires, or manage them, he put his face to the low of one breast before he bit into the softness, where she smelt the most herself too. His sound as his teeth went into her flesh would quiver her and he drank at the hot blood, so close to her heart. Thais was all he need, he promised to a self that was overwhelmed in her fragrances – she was so much more than the girl that had died in the RV – but even with that he was already drawing the sipper down on his pants.

Even though he was playing at the base of all the things that affected him, this could be hopeful in a way that Phaedra might not care about, right now, since if he needed her in enough ways, and all ways were volatile, maybe she’d be safe in the eye of it all, or the torrents would simply battle among themselves instead of consuming her completely.


Dae held the door for his guest, of course, and expected her to take his arm again, when they went from the car into her family’s building. It could lead her to think that he was already hosting meetings on Price property regularly. She would not be wrong. It had never been the point of her offer, anyway. Comfort for exile, the terms. And so the two came in on the other side of the sun stricken glass. Such a well-lit place for having no electric lights, and so private, despite the day seeping in readily. There was something to be said for the architecture of the wealthy.

Hane was surprised to see the other two come in and sit down in newly unwrapped lounge furniture, and he looked to Sugar to see how she reacted. He wasn’t a shy boy, and would follow her lead. He thought the new girl was familiar, and then mumbled her first name quietly, disbelieving, when he realized. Was he Dion’s apparition then, a younger, innocent brother, looking at her like she’d not been home all year, but returned for Christmas? His arm looked to hook around Sugar’s waist, since he still wanted what her company might bring. Greed would not set him apart from the boy he was supposed to play, after all.

Daedalus smirked and leaned in closer to Poppy. “This was short notice, but they’re both prime for what they are.” He promised as he then held out his hand, raising the palm to ask sugar, not Hane, to commence if she wished to. The King in the room leaned back. “Sugar especially,” he said and swung a finger twice at the pale apparition caught in the glass arena. “is famous for her work.” He wanted to see Poppy intrigued. He wasn’t sure any affection for the act would move her to admit it, but he was sure she would be honest with her face if she wasn’t with her words. And she love to see that.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on June 08, 2017, 08:37:58 pm
Sugar was unimpressed and unamused by the way the little lordling sized her up. His touch was unwelcome, but she didn’t move because Daedalus had asked her to come. It would have been rude to agree to a favor and then fuck up immediately. “You’re not, really.” She replied, like they were exchanging greeting cards. “Sugar.” Sugar said.

“What do you know?” about me. She stared at him like she expected a decent answer. Pandering if he hadn’t a good idea and praises if he did. White Queen from the Fox King, more wolf than woman with those cinder eyes and flashing teeth. She stepped closer to him. “What do you want?” Straight to the point, because neither of them had come into this old place without purpose. Dae had asked for a good show and Sugar liked the accolades, so she was of the mind to please today. Please the Fox, not the boy. What that meant for Hane, she wasn’t sure yet.


Phaedra was a good girl, good maiden. Armand was right to want her, and the other boys too. Pretty property with the right blushes, the right lips. It was delightful, the sort of perversion of their childhood friendship Dion’s new tastes had brought out. The way she arched into exposure on that shabby bed, his the second set of hands to ply her soft skin today. Phae must have been some kind of unwitting siren, calling him to the depths like this, but was somehow untainted in her new journeys. It was cruel and she glimpsed it, briefly, in his unsettled search, and writhed under his touch in the throes of his conflict. “I’m sorry,” she said, and she was uncertain. 

She was rosy and pert for him when he took away her underclothes, breath rising and falling beneath his touch. She was a new land for her cartographer, waiting for him to claim all the secret places and chart them with his teeth. When he pressed himself close between her legs so that he could lay his lips, she trembled with an unwarranted anticipation. She was unfair, perhaps, because she could not conceal her desires. Made Dion the gatekeeper when he was better a thief, and smiled sweetly like she was holy. “I’m sorry, but this makes me happy.” Phae breathed.

If she changed her mind when he let his bite split her skin, it was too lovely a reaction that rolled through her body to offer her a chance to withdraw. A tide of her pulse and her trembling self, she bit hard into her lip and let out a small and strangled cry. This was what he had left her for, this animalistic ritual she had no place in. Phaedra’s fingers curled around the fabric of the blanket and she was crying when told him, “take whatever you need—whatever you want.”


The ride had been quiet, and Poppy couldn’t help but feel it was largely due to Danny’s presence. She wasn’t bothered by it, but wondered what it was that gave Dae the ability to create immediate intimacy when they were alone. She thought it must be a talent and supposed there must be many other good reasons he’d ended up with such a silly name as the “Fox King.”

Danny did not join them when they pulled up to the building, staying in the car with the engine running and little intention to stay after they’d gone upstairs. He would leave as soon as it was polite and go to see Lars, so that someone would know the full details of meeting Deerest for his pickup later. It was a conversation that could have happened over the phone, but Danny felt it was easier to emphasize certain points in person, and Lars had sticky fingers when he wasn’t explicitly shown to stay out of the pot.

She was amenable to reclaiming her place Daedalus’ arm, as they crossed the walk to the vintage apartment tower. A brief, flitting grin in his direction encouraged him to continue. She was still engaged in his plans, it seemed. When Poppy and Dae came into the apartment and Poppy saw their company, she inclined her head and furrowed her brow curiously. “Dulcinea Thomas.” She muttered after a moment, taking her seat and folding her hands into her lap. If there had been any question of her age, walking into Dae’s harbor with the sort of gravity she had, this small recognition placed her a bit more firmly. High school girl with a countess’ heart and a business woman’s eyes.

It took her a moment longer to confirm that she did not know the boy and realize, with a pointed glance back at Dae, that this was a particular orchestration for her and that Hane’s green eyes were far from a coincidence. She wondered, then, if Dae knew more of Dion than he’d implied or if he was simply taking guesses based on her own shades. Whether she was upset or intrigued by the presentation, Poppy kept close to her chest and returned her attention to Dulcinea, who Dae called Sugar.

Sugar smiled quaintly when their company arrived. Hane had not been expected it, but Sugar would not have been here otherwise. Her stare slid back toward Hane, and her expression read like she’d seen no one else in the room. Predatory, abruptly, but for his Hunger as much as her own.

Sugar was not exceptionally strong, but she was quick. They had been near enough to the large table that she was able to hop onto it and slip behind Hane in a single motion, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and another underneath one arm to stroke at the buttons on his shirt. Chin over his shoulder and her breath for his neck, she giggled. “What kind of boy are you, anyhow?” she asked. “Do you know how to appreciate top shelf stuff?” If Sugar expected her partners to beg for treats, she held a deeply ingrained double standard and let her teeth pluck at Hane’s earlobe carelessly. “Or were you hoping to be devoured?”

Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on June 09, 2017, 10:30:07 am
Hane, when they were still alone, broke the cloudy, close-to-downpour expression that was his almost disapproving curiosity when Sugar showed some of herself and her confidence. His smile was honest, and not so wide to the sides, but open in the middle. His youth made all his faces pretty.

"I don't know anything. Invited here. Like you?" he tried to confirm but he didn't need the details. He was floating through these places and oncoming sensations a bit better, while Dion was more of a diver, someone who'd whip it all into foam in his hurry to get exactly what he wanted. So the likenesses were there, but they were superficial. The immediate show of approval and attachment would be new on any creature that looked at all like the Price person, especially for Sugar’s eyes.

"Want?" he repeated, and answered by letting his head fall to both sides, measuring her. He thought he was clever and irresistible, and had no idea that he was comparably naïve and passable in her stream of lovelies.


When something like Phaedra apologises it is a delight. The best kind of treasure, from the purest ore. Why else own something so closely, if they don't give you the zenith of what they are. Dion had liked it quietly in the past, smiling when he insisted he didn’t care when she’d missed spots with her cleaning rag, and now she held those little offerings up to pad his ears even when he was having at her body, aiming to try her innocence. When she smiled, peeled of clothes, mostly, he thought she was going to take this physical confession and shake the spice of guilt from the act. Beautiful maiden, heart willing. But there were new obstacles speckling the null distance between them. His own goodness, or their connection kept pure because she was. It was a somber kind of salt that made her taste decadent.

And she tasted sweeter than Poppy, and cleaner than the girl that died. It was such a pretty orb that he sampled, but he couldn’t muster the audacity to touch his teeth together and claim a morsel. Drags of his tongue instead, to caress the marks he’d made – it was due time for him to clean her, finally – so that he could watch that skin spill red, over and over. When he sought her further up, his lips were her color, head unsteady with the vapors of her particular irons. Her willingness lured him, and he forgot to resist and consider her heart in his hands that they knew to be jagged in every fold.

A kiss with the truth, that he’d become a monster when he became man. And all the adoration they’d built between them, their childhood games and their grown-up sensibilities, pulled him back from accepting the thing she was trying to make herself for him. Beautiful nightmares of how he could play with her flesh, sculpt it until his belly was brimming, lap at the craters and suckle at giving veins – it was unthinkable that Phaedra could die in any other way than lovely – it kept him from taking more.

“You’re not sorry enough.” He said with love, and instead of unwrapping her around him, he simply slid the cotton still covering her heat aside. She deserved something tender, more than this, but he was sure he was giving her survival in taking this loving, soft moment away. It was a little like trying to save the drowning that insist to dive in to the whirling sea. “And I’m not either.” Her blood on her ear, with his voice when he tried her with a searching intrusion.

He bit her when he clad himself in her, too rough. Teeth were where her shirt’s collar might still conceal. Lovely, laid out Phaedra who’d trailed after him since they were small and her mother had her current duties. Delectable girl now, with every expression she breathed. Against every uproar in every nerve that thought it’d finally see him in havoc, he unsheathed teeth from her skin and groaned miserably, and punished her harder with selfish hammering - that conventional want.

“I don’t know what to do with you, Phaedra.” He said as he drove her against the bed she could have made much better herself. She was giving him everything he couldn’t be allowed to take, and the uncertainty in his eager teeth had to be paid for with this violent rhythm. Dion kept his jaws together, and his puffs hissed through his lips and every inhale was through his nose, which took in billows of Phaedra’s scent. Love hurt in its making, he discovered inside her, and tried to do a valiant thing, spare her, by conjuring other things than her scrumptious death. It wasn’t right to think of sister now – she was the only other who’d be powerful enough in his heart - but it had to be better than following the whim to turn his blushing love into a stunning carcass.


Dae thoroughly savored Poppy’s surprise at the pale actress in the show he’d so recently assembled. Not aghast, maybe, but anything that the elegant woman had not planned was a welcome expression. Dae had not been so engaged in a face in a long time. She sat, however, with every meticulous that her furrow was not. So the wraith had a known name. “Sugar to the masses.” He said, but he’d already announced her. It wasn’t impossible they knew each other. He felt Poppy and Sugar might coexist well, since both liked not to tread on other’s shores.

So the king had the pleasing task of having to both watch Poppy and the play.

Hane had been surprised when Sugar looked at him, and then considered the two others for direction. He was not unaccustomed to being watched, but he wasn’t sure, entirely, if that was the mission today. Anticipation like a disturbance, heavy, in him when the white other came closer. He’d lifted a hand to touch her again but she danced around him quickly, belting him back against her. The king whom the boy didn’t know smiled as Hane gasped, green eyes hollowed out from the stark onset of want. Dae had not chosen Hane for how his colors were synchronized with the Price children, but rather for his likeness to the story Poppy had told of her brother. He stared at her from the side, touching the back of her blouse. Would she fasten her brother’s face on this handsome one?

Hane pushed himself back against Sugar, the edge of the table. If he was directed that the audience he couldn’t see them through her fog. He’d not been around long enough in this secret world to know top shelf from the sludge. Famished soul trying all scraps. “I only take the best.” He said, which was true for the rest of his life. Hane clasped her hand on his chest and then he turned his face into her whispering mouth. “Are you at all ready for me to devour you?” he asked with hubris. It might be what he thought he should be, because he kept his lips closed when he pushed them against hers, to part them if he could. It was obvious the boy at least wanted to start by being between her teeth. Beautiful, but simple so far. He might be a good aperitif, but not as meaty a claim as Dionysus.

Dae sat closer still to Poppy, eyes on the glass-bound. He’d seen Sugar’s games a few times. Somehow he was more invested today. “This boy is also new.” He remarked.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on June 11, 2017, 05:20:49 am
She—Phaedra—was a fountain of delights today, wells from her eyes, wells from her veins. That bleeding crescent beneath the round swell of her young and unclaimed heart seemed to reach with red for Dion’s teeth to brand it. Between her legs she was no less naïve and inviting than the rest of her had been. Eager, but eager for what she’d imagined over what she received because she had not expected it to come rough or at all painful. She welled for him there also, equal parts desire and the diluted pink weeping of a lost innocence on his lancing. Everything had taken on the peculiar, dirty urgency this sort of crumbling room begged for. It was wholly not how Phae had pictured it, and yet she was certain it was better for how sinful it felt.

If he was thinking of Poppy to quiet his more devilish appetite, Phaedra was also thinking of the sister and this secret finally held from her. For as dearly as she loved Dion’s sister, Phae had yearned for the subversive intimacy of holding something separate with the brother. Her tongue was wet, slick against her budding lower lip as she mewled his name. She did not know what he should do with her either.


She—Sugar—was always certain she was a fountain of delights, sinew and skin to complement the flow of her pulse and the quick of her own teeth. She was laughing when Hane thought he had happened upon some good posturing and wondered if he had forgotten his heart ran beneath her palm. “You are asking the wrong questions, I think,” she said, and did not stop him when he pushed his mouth against hers. Sugar caught his soft skin between her teeth and stitched red thread around his red lips.

It is decorum that keeps the human jaw gentle, and Sugar had aspired to a different aristocracy. There was a good deal of restraint, then, purposeful, that prevented her from peeling his mouth wide open. Dae had asked for a show, which meant this Hane would get foreplay he didn’t quite deserve, in the name of theatrics. “You should know you’ve got to work to get the best,” she hummed, licking his blood back as she nuzzled his cheek.

She brought her own wrist up to her mouth and took a deep bite, tearing away the thin strands of muscle as she looked for his mouth again. Sugar kissed him, or fed him, and chewed and swallowed whatever of herself he hadn’t taken. She bled onto his shirt. Where he should have been able to look for a glimpse bone on her thin arm, there was fine, fresh muscle still. Sugar, who could bleed and scar, was not unlike an unending bounty of choice cuts.

“Would you like more? What shall I take from you in exchange?” she asked, clipping her teeth across his earlobe. She smiled across the room at Poppy and Dae. “You’re getting special treatment today, don’t you realize?” Hungry tongue.


Poppy had reached to slip her arm through Dae’s again, though they had made no move to get up. The show had clearly just begun. She was holding fast though, some part of her horrified and another excited. It was evident she was only composed because she had always practiced that posture and expression. “What a terrible thing to do, Fox King,” she murmured. To her or to Hane or to Sugar, it was not clear.


Phaedra shuddered and reached to hold fast to whatever of Dion she could find. "Dion, I really am sorry," she panted. "I'm sorry if this isn't what you wanted, but I've always loved you." Phae covered her face then, exposed and bleeding. "Please let me be enough." she begged, and it was some small tragedy that she did not know she was probably more terrible than the Fox King.

Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on June 11, 2017, 03:30:13 pm
Phaedra's offerings were delicate and bespoke. His soul had already gone without its asinine armor into hers. It's like that with things you trust completely - they still surprise you. His expert collisions should have been paired with knowing intakes of air, like some practicing athlete - he had a reputation after all - but they sounded like little dissapprovals for how she said his name, instead. He wanted dearly to stop her from uttering those sweetnesses.

He thought to have her harder to interrupt her song and cure his heart from this sudden fall, and hide her from his hunger, but her arms locked around him. Dion felt a panic live with the heat and the rampant pleasure - bleeding friend, clamoring to him as she gave him more when he was trying to preserve her. Phaedra's breaths were right in their meaning. He'd not wanted this. He'd wanted for Phae to be another kind of happy. Perhaps he'd tried not to see the way she looked at him in hopes that her happiness would eventually not be dependent on his whims.

"I love you, Phaedra." And it was guttural because she'd wrenched it out of him. Honesty, before it was refined. He didn't hear himself. But she couldn't be enough because she mustn't ever be a beautiful memory, opened up like mangled, red fruit. He would have to mince myriads of bodies before the gentle things he'd allow for her would be enough. He kissed her to oppress her confessions. He didn't care if she couldn't get her oxygen if it only quieted her lovely. When she covered her face he had at her harder. Lovely Phae, masking herself to make it easier for him to treat her this way.

Without his mind on the act, he was spending himself soon. A dangerous thing when he was occupied with emotional finery, and not eyeing his own, welling rapture. So he lost everything, eventually, holding his breath against hers when the sudden, unwanted delight arrived. Reckless inside her, to swirl with her rosy gloss. How could I, said the gasp when his center was still humming, and there was a tear from Dion's eye, too, when he sought out her cheek for comfort against the drain.

"Of course you're enough." he said because he was too empty to lie. Perhaps Dion was just euphoric he'd somehow saved her from his enamel and other wants. The old defenses would sprout back soon, and make it harder for the truth to be true. Maybe she could hear it, if not in his voice then in the world, that was also in the room with them. Loving the hungry could not be so simple. And he - hoping to cushion her from everything he wanted simply because they loved, while knowing the gravity of his cravings - could be more naïve than Phaedra ever feared she was.

When he stroked the cheek he wasn't sporadically kissing, did it feel like an apology, or even sympathy to her?


Hane's eyebrows gathered in a pinch when Sugar hurt his lips. When she let them go he savored the stark pulses in his face from the breach that lined his mouth in his own red. The boy was compliant when her face was gentle to his. It was hard to do anything but receive when she was behind him. He looked at the audience, and felt beautiful for them with Sugar attached to him. In a way he must have understood her celebrity, then.

He was awakened when she undid her wrist just a little. Fixated on her mouth after, he was very eager to have that taste, eyes closing tight to brace against the flavor when they kissed. It was powerful, and he pressed her against the vault of his mouth before he tested texture with his teeth. A quiet breath through his nose before he moved her back with his tongue and took her into his body to savor. His gaze was empty with enjoyment as the little flesh descended.

"You can have some too." he tried when she stipulated equal trade. His head's angle tilted the ear into her mouth. His hair was long enough to hide if she decided the offering was enough. He did not have the conviction he'd started with, that he'd act some kind of wolf behind this fence, and she was some left behind woolly unable to flee with the others. Hane did not cling to bravado if he could have pleasure instead. His fingers were undoing his shirt, and his sternum was quite something, with little jagged kisses on its sides. It was not a pointed offer of skinship, the way people without the hunger communicate, but rather the unfolding of a menu. Not a showman, but it became a show. His denim though, made no secret that he'd like to have Sugar in that way too, if she allowed. Perhaps he'd not been raised with too much manners, but Hane was at least intrinsically polite in not doing, if you haven't asked first.

If she'd not have the ear, he was already loosing blood from inside his mouth too, looking for another kiss. He'd be eager to let the two on the other side see his skills with such nearness, especially now that he'd recognized Dulcinea to be worth his pursuit. How eagerly he wanted them to have a good show, too. How beautiful he'd feel.


And perhaps that was the greatest error in the king's casting. Here was someone who might fall into Dion's physical category if the two were written down, but Hane was already hoping for Sugar's favor, and ready to pay for it with large parts of himself. Dionysus Price was a brat. How did the sister feel, sitting down and having another's arm to hold, when what could be her Dion was already deeply smitten by the pale woman on the table behind him, harboring the firmness to tell both rusty king and prim queen he'd do all primal things if he was allowed.

"It is not terrible yet. She's just starting." Dae promised because he couldn't know Hane was so far apart from the original. There was a chance Poppy might like that, though, or still revel in the other similarities. After all, it wouldn't be a lacking spectacle. And she was accustomed to rare things.

He was also impressed by the boy's eager, and looked to Poppy to see if she approved. The attention pulled him toward her, and he couldn't help himself but to study her skin closer, and wondering how much of this venture really had been for Ms. Price. It might have looked like a bidding for a peck, but he hoped to revisit the little cuts he'd made behind her ear.


Dion, who'd licked his teeth clean of Phaedra's traces, and killed Poppy a thousand beautiful times between his temples, was running out of things to drown the maids taste with. It stuck with him like not even his sister's bloody kissed could. Maybe there had lived something that could aptly act as a metaphor for Pahe in nature, but that kind of prey could not have lasted long, being delectable and willing. He'd moved to leave her empty after the harsh claiming that had ultimately done little to save her. With his needs confused, he was still uncomfortably ready when laid on his back first, and then sitting up.

"I think I shouldn't have done this." It was a fact, coming out, and not regret. He still left all the other things in the air, because taking them back would be too cruel to both of them. He didn't want to dance that way with Phae, and he was afraid he'd recognize his words as lies if he told her he didn't love her. So Dion was still hoping to keep her out of harm by adoring her less.

"I... I don't think I regret it." he mumbled to himself, turning his head toward the clothes they'd discarded. He wanted distractions suddenly, a wealth of human melt to wash away what he'd suckled from Phaedra. He wished she'd been mundane, the way wallflowers are meant to be, but her taste had been a harrowing new addiction.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on June 14, 2017, 03:07:41 am
Phaedra would hold that moment as her deepest secret, invaded and spent. If she had the sense to care for the risks, she could not be bothered now. There was nothing that could have convinced her this was wrong. She was a pinnacle for them both to fall from, and she felt she was grasping at his fingertips in the plummet. His words felt more painful than they should have been and she was quick to lose them between his lips and the soft skin of her cheek. Was she pitiful? She thought she must be and thought she must not care.

“I would rather be nothing at all than not enough.” Phae said, as if she wasn’t sure he’d meant it. It was possible that this determination could have been avoided if she’d continued to wallow in her one-sided affections, watching from afar and loving in the dark with his phantom on her fingertips. If he had not left for this world she’d not known how to touch, she might have felt near enough across the room.

She was not so different from him now, having had him over her, it was not possible for her to return to the way she’d been. Naively, she wondered if this was what it was like to know Hunger. It was not correct that she believed the way his mouth worried for her agreed with her heart.


Sugar was laughing when she took his earlobe, jaw flexing to take a crescent of flesh. It was unlikely he would grow back the way she did, and that made it all the more delightful. There was a profuse and brilliant red for her efforts, and she lapped it up with a smart enthusiasm. As if it should be consolation for accepting the injury, she dug her fingers into his shoulder and let the other hand drop to address the curiosity pronounced in his jeans. Matter-of-fact gesture, she gripped when she suckled at the torn flesh.

“Of course I can,” she agreed. “And you may have your treats as well, if you ask me very nicely.” Sugar said. If she had her way, she’d have him on his knees before she let him take any of her skin between his own teeth. Until then, it would be whatever morsels she wanted to offer from her own lips. Sugar did not believe in equality.

When he undid his shirt, she left his pleasure to explore his bare chest with her nails, raking as she accepted his lips and let his life slide from her tongue for him to taste. Sugar did believe in sharing. She found it pleasant, his mouth still bleeding from her earliest presentation. “Pretty boy, I would like a show too.” She left him, pushing herself further back on the table and undoing the buttons of her own blouse. White shirt and white skin, she was drawn from parchment and crawling with purple roots.

“Come here,” she beckoned, patting the table beside her. “Treat.”


Poppy thought it was all too bacchanal for the lack of strife on that table. Two eager mouths and the pretense of competing egos. Dulcinea was not equally matched by the boy’s own self-inflation, and Poppy thought very briefly that her brother would have been more formidable on that table than this green-eyed ghost could ever be. She wondered if that was the kind of beast Dulcinea—Sugar—was, that she would have preferred her brother’s asinine cockiness. At least, in so much as it would be more impressive to conquer. Poppy had herself always appreciated her perceived mastery over Dion for the same reason; superiority where other women failed.

She smiled slightly at Dae when he looked her way, as if he’d done something very adorable. “If you say so, I’ll believe it.” She agreed, wetting her lips and looking back at the could-be brother who hadn’t half of Dion’s heart. His body was eager for the pale girl and Poppy thought it crude, in the same way she found Dion’s bucket crude. She found it distasteful and compelling and she inclined her head. “Am I supposed to make believe that he’s my brother?” she asked with a nonchalance that said both that Dae had misjudged her brother’s character and that she was still willing to engage if it entertained him.

When Daedalus leaned closer, she did not lean away. “Does this sort of thing excite you?” she murmured, as if she thought to play at being unaffected and her eyes and lips did not betray her. “Are you a king, or a deviant, really?” quiet, playful even. Perhaps Hane had not had the effect Dae had intended, but he’d fanned whatever sparks Poppy had burning anyway. If nothing else, Sugar could be counted on for aesthetically delightful experiences for anyone with a watering mouth.


Phae sat up when he left her and shivered as if she was cold. “I wanted you to, though,” Phaedra admitted graciously when she thought he was reconsidering. “I’ll never regret it. I could never regret anything I do for—with—you.” She said. Dutiful with her pleasure, that girl, which was itself a fault. She hesitated for a moment, watching him consider their garments, and then moved to take off her skirt and shrug off her blouse. She pushed them away, into the dainty pile of her underclothes and his own garments, so that she could be fully exposed to him.

It was unfair for her to stare at him with any shyness, but she did; long lashes and long hair that made a mockery of modesty as it fell around her. On her knees, hands on her lap. That same repose again. Willful lamb. If he did not move to dissuade her, she would find the confidence to lean over him as he sat and take for herself the satisfaction of a conventional hunger. Lips that had often lied to keep the siblings from trouble and apologized for the inconvenience of her own presence. Had she grown up, somehow, in the short time he’d been away? She was eager and dutiful in this too, tongue adoring, and paused only to take a breath and ask with some reluctant dread whether he wanted her to stop.

Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on June 14, 2017, 11:26:18 am
It was strange to experience an unwavering Phaedra. Dion was so used to her cushioning his moods, rake the path for him if she saw where he was going. In the air he'd put a desire to be regretful, so they might reconstruct her innocence that he'd plucked, but she didn't respond to soothe his need for reprimand, not even in the quiet way she could. Instead another declaration from her, which was bravado because it was so honest. If there was regret between them, it would have to come from him alone.

Dion couldn't break their privacy by moving away – even though he’d though to - and now, when she peeled the last cloth she wore, he was stunned. He watched Phaedra silently and thought she was prettier, moving for a purpose and not for theatrics as others would. He’d forgotten his own state, and wasn’t in the mindset generally to be embarrassed, anyway, but remembered soon when his kneeling friend tended to him. He took in air, it might have been to object, but his impulses were tired of treating this woman like some mother of pearl bubble that would die by any touch. In truth, he was darkly delighted to see her like this.

His hand on her temple, moving over her head with parted fingers to control the rich swell of her hair so he could keep it away from her face and her expression around him. Such pure worship. When she asked, he simply petted her in a way that brought her back to the act. Her intentions were decadent for him, but it was also torture, so soon after her first. He thought he wanted to see more of this Phaedra, now that he’d allowed himself to try her like this. He caught her chin so she would turn to him, and then her hands, to lead her to sit on his lap, their eyes still meeting. Spoiled, always, by her, and he wanted this, too.

It wasn’t some expectant lordling that bid she show him her own rhythm, but many parts of the lover she might be petitioning for who wanted pleasure for them both. It was a little new to him too, when he wasn’t acting for complete control over debutant hearts. He wasn’t wearing some role he’d read from their stare. He didn’t know what would become of the two of them after this, with the vile that he had been indulging in, that he’d expected to lose himself too, foul, and this new possibility of a sineater in the form of his always present comfort. For now he’d just help her discover him. He was sure her movements needed guidance, despite the position he invited. Surely he’d lose himself to it too. Perhaps they could be partners in the act, this time.

And how could he not kiss her, if she followed? How narcissistic, to kiss a mouth that’d tasted him. A little cut on her tongue, and another worrying helping of rapture that was her flavor. Dion thought it was unnatural that she fit his palled so seamlessly, and that it would make great trouble for his continued crimson awakening later. But for now, only a mutual ravage.


Hane grunted and looked at her, fern orbs on fire as the pain hurried to tattle to his head, and make it quake. It would seem as though this was entirely too much for him, that he’d succumb from the activity in his nerves. As he was struggling to survive the birth of his own favorite role in this kind of dance, she confused him further, by petting his taut fliers. He learned the true nature of the pulses from his marred ear, then, and moaned, dumb and beautiful. The kiss was a chock to him and he was ravenous for it soon, drawn by any hint of life, even his own.

He went after when she told him to, and made his seat on the table. His hands parted her blouse because he thought the undone buttons suggested it. And he was also starving now that his cheek and half his neck were glimmering with ruby coat. His own shirt was gone somewhere and he held both sides of hers to part them and bring his head in, nose to her collarbone. His breath would give him away as being quite compromised. He looked up at her. “May I?” still clinging to her blouse. He want’s sure what he’d do, rake his teeth over her sternum or bite into her hard collars, but he needed something to steady him. If she chose to indulge in a meaner course, she could remain quiet and wait for him to loose composure, trying to topple her to have at her like an animal, after all. It could be honest, but it’d be with very little thought of being consensual. Perhaps a little more of the creature he was supposed to replace here.


Dae would save her smile but wasn’t all too pleased with her question. “Is he not convincing?” he worried lightly. It seemed every boy or girl in Sugar’s hands were like this. Some of them were a bit more assertive, of course, but he’d yet to see a production where her others were very opposite of Hane. What was Poppy’s brother like? Intriguing. “He’s new, too, and discovering things. He is like him a little, I’m sure.” It was a question, though.

“It is hard to oversee something you love without being part of it.” He said about his deviancy. “Are you always fully poised for your curiosities?” he asked, happier now that she revealed to be a little drawn, at least. Or left the opportunity to be drawn open. “Maybe we can discover together.” He suggested as her lack of retreat let him touch his lips to the cuts he’d given her before. Nose in her hair. They must look like they were very familiar then, to the people inside the glass.

He was fixating a bit on the sleeve of her blouse, rolling the fine material up casually, like playing with a wild, beautiful thing that might decide to escape if his motions gave it reason to. “If I’m honest, I did this in part to inspire you, Poppy Price.” He said and it was very true as he read one of her veins with a fingertip. “Self-serving, maybe, but you know kings, they can’t persist on work alone.” He lifted that hand to his lips, as though this was a greeting, or an old courtship. He was not intending just to kiss it. “May I?” and there would a little mark on her backhand if she agreed, but he knew the importance of perfect skin in her circuits, and would settle for a little more, a little higher up where she could conceal it. He’d not take yellow pools from green in hers during. How unusually intimate, King.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on June 17, 2017, 02:24:08 am
“I’m like a fairy fucking godmother today,” Sugar laughed, when Hane was close and his breath was ragged. She wondered how Phaedra had faired with her thrashing boy. A glance toward Dae, whose company was Dion’s blood too. It was almost as if Deerest had pranced into her life without any intention of letting her ignore him. His very genetics were conspiring for her attention. She wondered if she was giving Poppy Price her wish today, too. How many ridiculous dreams was she going to have to pin to the curves of her spine? Sugar didn’t mind. In the end, she was left at the center of whatever storm she contrived around herself.

As if Poppy weren’t thinking the very same thing.

Sugar leaned back onto her elbows so the undone shirt slipped low around her thin shoulders. Impractical lace cupping practical delights and sweeping along the more decadent rivers she’d not given him permission for. “Can’t you ask a little better than that?” she asked, patting the top of Hane’s head lightly. “Pretty boy. Pretty mouth. Work for you what you want, right? I’m a fair girl.”

Poppy inclined her head, as if Sugar’s teasing should be enough of an answer for the Fox King’s question. “Dion isn’t anything like me.” Poppy said with a vague smile. “And he is also exactly like me.” Because, really, she was a brat too. A rapier and a broadsword. “Do you think you could be convinced he is like me?” she asked nodding her head toward Hane. Was that spirit on par, rather? Did Daedalus want to peel his scalp with the same interest he had shown for Poppy?

Sugar pushed herself up a little and cupped Hane’s cheek in her hand. “A little taste.” She tore from her own arm again, catching her bicep between her teeth and moaning softly as she penetrated her own skin. Blood down her chin, blood on her teeth when she gave him a full mouth smile and kissed him again. Mother bird, feeding a flightless hopeful. She licked her lips clean and hummed pleasantly. “You like giving too, right?” she encouraged, pressing her mouth to his temple and digging at the skin.

Poppy was watching Sugar while Dae asked questions, and she didn’t retreat because she was a Price and because she liked kings. She thought for a very brief moment about Cas, and decided he was not the sort of man to understand when she leaned into Dae’s encouragements to her dark hair. “I’d rather discover with you than on that table, I suppose.” She admitted, which was to say that they were, even painted in enticing hues, still less compelling than the yellow-eyed stranger beside her.

Green focused on him again, steady. “You may.” She agreed, and didn’t wince at his teeth. “I don’t consider myself a voyeur,” she did say, with a slight smile. “But I’m flattered still.” And she’d still been watching, still been drawn, still been intrigued. Sugar was laughing on the table.


Phaedra thought she might die when he drew her on top of him, aching as much as she was eager. Despite it, her response was frantic, almost spoiled, at first. Hot breath on his lips as she leaned in toward him and she felt she’d earned some sort of reward when he took her kiss. She made soft and imploring sounds when he caught the small well of her tongue. She stilled in his lap to find him deep and slow when she began anew and she wrapped her arms around his neck to play her fingers through his hair.

“If you show me, I’ll do anything you want, Dion.” Phae told him, and she was certain she meant it. Meant it like he could have her ribs split open and her heart on a plate and she’d still be desperate for him.

When she could take no more, she collapsed against him, and her soft pants were gentle on his neck. “I don’t know what to do now.” She admitted in the quiet. Because he would not go back to his home with her and she had been told not to go find him. Because she’d never reached this point in her dreams of him, folding in on herself and sleep before articulating the possibilities of the future. “Will you promise me this is real?” she asked, because she’d be heartbroken if he didn’t find her again, want her again, taste her again. The thought of his mouth on anyone else was enough to make her chest ache.

Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on June 17, 2017, 03:09:55 pm
It stung like refusal on Hane's nose at first, and it made him both mad and sullen, when Sugar played with the the familiarity of being asked for things. She didn't sound pleased about it. But her terms weren't unreasonable. This was a colborative act, even if the search was for something selfish to Hane. He might come to treasure the togetherness of devouring today.

Sugar made him see a larger thing than the girl she was. Hane was unportected by any shields of experience, here, even though his heart was trying to be aristocartic and demand more. It resullted in his inabillity to take with strength what he so dearly wanted. It is how you control beasts, after all. Beside her abillity to swell wounds back into whole skin, this was probably Dulcinea's best trick. He was intressted in her approval because she was presenting it as something so important.

He wasn't exactely sure what to do, but he'd had other loves before, so he spoiled her skin, now that the blouse wasn't so much in the way. Little kisses that tried to stick to her until he lifted his head for the next one. "Yes you are." fair. He was sweet, as his mother would say, and not entirely tainted by his ego like Deerest. It wasn't far from Hane to imagine being with Sugar, and holding hands, even if his blood was rushing to leave her broken open, rather. Love from a heart that is as young as its master's face lasts for only so long, though. It wouldn't be a betrayal Sugar would ever see, since she'd be tired of him long before he stopped apprechiating the novelty of her snowy magic.

He looked at her, fatigued between all the lusts, and relishing in it, when she touched his bloodied cheek. Am I doing well enough, yet? He kissed her carefully, jaw gentle when it took the taste she offered. It was playful on his tongue, and his head swam with its effects. He looked at his own arm as he moved up her body to be closer, and took another kiss from her, for the intimacy, and not just her spices. It could be a good thing that someone as culinary as Dulcinea liked her heart adrift in all these chemicals, because otherwise she might feel lonely, beeing mouthfulls and teeth.

Drunk on the moment, hew put his forearm between them. His teeth reminded him of a viceral kind of reality, outside of this daze. He took it for the kind of truth that comes with powders and pills, and that now, smeared in red, was the real world. He trembled as he held the piece he'd gathered from below the bend of his arm, mouth open to bring it to her. He wondered what he could buy for it, and was already going back to retrieve more for her. How cruel, to make him massacre himself, and he loved it. Deviant, spoiled.

Hane reached to hold firmly at a cup still covering her softness. He squeezed, looking for a reaction from her. She'd revealed herself to be full of treats, and he would have to make her feel generous. Hane wasn't new to that, at least. In fact, he thought it was his best way of barganing. He noticed the eager pour from the wound he'd made on himself and lifted the elbow high when his lips left hers, fingers dipping down to touch her mouth. She could have swallows of him soon, and he tried to sweeten it by hiding one fingertip behind her inscisors, too.

Dae laughed at her comparison. This Hane was no Poppy, no. He admitted she was right with a shrugg. Such a hard girl to please, Poppy Price, and it was still a bit addicting to try. It all left him more curious about the brother. Maybe she was right to worry that someone like that could make a dent for himself in carnival circuits. Her following sentiment was flattering to him, that she still found him dearer than the show he'd put on.

His eyes flashed with dark satisfaction when he pinched her skin, and took just a little of it from her hand. He wanted to see if she kept the reaction to herself, as she could with her expert steeling, or if it was part of this exchange that he watch her feelings on the matter. Eventually he could look down at the little cut as he enjoyed it in his mouth, and then kissed it by raising her hand more. His tongue, pressed, would halt the bleeding, and it would be a clean, red thing when he lifted his head again.

"And may I?" he asked, free hand coming quick to brush the low of her lip. The King didn't wait as King's might not, and kissed her with her own aroma. There'd be plenty between them to repay with. He'd also denied himself this kind of thing. It was a usefull practice, skinship, but he thought it was a favor from him, or even playing favourites, if he took what was offered every night. This was more like a dance, hightower woman and his soaked satin rebellion here. He was not particularly helping his cause by doing this, which was out of character, but he supposed he wasn't getting in his own way, either. That alone should be a testiment to the girl's gravity.

Her phone vibrated with Caspian's frustration. He didn't know he was getting in the way of something his significant other might want more. It was a matter of haste. It seemed Arman was on a warpath after the discourtesy in the lockerroom.


Dion groaned at the feel of her initial eager. She was all new and taking the shape of him, and that kind of thing can feel like a punishment on a boy already satisfied once. He drank from her mouth as though she'd served him something soothing - always for comforts, Phae - and kissed deeply but without anything overly harsh when she moved slower.

"I know, Phae." He said it with a bit of somber. There wasn't anyone who knew them that would doubt Phaedra's devotion to him. What he wanted he couldn't take, and it was too much to hear in her voice that she'd let him. Maybe Dion would have been grateful to be more like Hane, then. She conjured him into her a second time before she had her rest against him.

He held her to him, an embrace that seemed more important than what they'd precticed just now. And he nodded so she could feel it against her shoulder. What a bad thing that he'd stumbled upon his heart here, and that it still wanted to stay with him when his body was on its way to a wrenching, delightful decay, tandem with his spoiled spirit. "It's real." hand in her hair softly, when he really wanted to hold her head back and dig up her juggular to see what the breaths in her lungs felt like when he chewed. It had to be real becasue it was too impractical.

He wanted more from her than what she'd given. He planned to take hold of her waist and have her until she was too weak to move so he could eat her at his own pace. Perhaps her belly, made into a bowl, would still hold traces of his spill, and he could lap at it while she died. He dreamed a short nightmare of how beutifully perfect her breast had bled. To think she was brimming what that elixir.

His bones were trying to obey him but his muscles and marrow was roiling with schemes to make Phaedra a saint to her own desires. It expressed itself as a tremble. There were frustrated tears in his eyes at the fact that she had not tasted rancid when he took her attention again. "You must come with me. Let me take you home or back to school. And then I have things to attend to." His voice demanded obedience from her, the way he thought he was entitled too, like when he'd taught her how to drive and a misstake could be grave. She'd listened then, perfectly, and it had let him see the flaws in his own driving techniques. It seemed, though, that this subject was the only place where he could find her rebellion. "And you're not to see Sugar again." he reminded. It was almost a hiss.

If she'd come it would seem like they were truly lovers then, her kind, with her sitting with legs to one side in his lap while he drove the them away from the significant but decrepid motel. Her hair would smell wonderfull in the wind of their velocity, but tried not to enjoy it. He had to keep her safe.

Need the girl now, please. I'll meet you anywhere.

Would be the message Danny recieved. Dion was desperate to wash his palled of the best tastes he'd had in his life. It must be ulteristic if it went against his usuall nature.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on June 19, 2017, 08:37:23 pm
Phaedra was conceited enough to worry she was disappointing when he had no more of her. It was only excusable by a sheer lack of experience and the unstoppable endurance of romance novel lovers as her singular reference point. But really, even that addled perception was tinged with the understanding he’d probably saved her from something. His mouth was not weary. She was quiet, almost sullen, because she did not wish to be saved any more than he did.

He had confirmed everything she had asked, though, so she had the decency to smile and nod along with him as if she appreciated his restraint. “It will be best if you take me back to school, so I can come home the usual way. I don’t want to concern your parents.” Or Poppy. She said it too easily, Phae who cried when she lied, and she should have noticed it herself. She did not, because Phaedra had no sense of self when Dion was involved and she’d been content with that for too long.

She should have also questioned the way she did not answer Dion when he gave her directives about Dulcinea. But, Dionysus could blame himself for that much. He had, for her forbidden endeavor, repaid her with precisely what she’d hoped for. He should have punished her, turned away at the door, if Dulcinea was to be extracted from Phae’s concoction. It was also fair, perhaps, that she had chosen something painful to keep close to her chest. Dion was fixated on his own satisfaction as well.

She liked the make-believe of their ride back to the academy, wind in her hair and Dion close. She told herself that the fantasy of it was that this was their normal, an open and preciously juvenile romance she could pen in her diary, but that the novel substance was not fake. When she waved at him as he left, Phaedra was exceptionally pretty. That was simply the way of things, with girls very deeply in love. Because she was not inherently conniving, though her recent efforts had been remarkably successful, Phaedra did not think he was leaving her skin to go to someone else.


Sugar was pleased with Hane’s efforts, welcome to all forms of worship, and was about to suggest he sample something of interest. She was delighted when he put his arm between them and offered, biblically, an exchange for her treats. She took what he offered and let him continue, encouraging sounds dripping from her lips with his red. She let him touch her when he inquired with his fingers and raked lightly at his shoulders so that he would be invited closer. His spill was making a mess on the table, as was hers, the freshly hewn muscle in her arm still slick and bleeding.

It was decadent, swallowing mouthfuls as they slithered off his skin and cutting fresh points in the digit he’d flavored her tongue with. When he was tired of this game, dizzy with the fun of it and the loss of blood, she’d comply with whatever initiative he still had in his jaw. He was the kind of eager she found amusing, and she was prepared to let him marvel at her endless spring. Sugar sweet, tender, and new like she was cattle bred for cultured mouths.

Poppy would have obliged if Dae had waited for her answer, and almost laughed when he didn’t. It wasn’t the kind of thing she was acquainted with. Perhaps Dion had that sort of attitude, at times, but she had always been certain he had been in her palm more often than not. She chanced her fingers through the king’s dark coils, a little more tenderness in sharing their flavors, and she was almost languid when she looked back at the couple spilling on the table. “Do you ever play that kind of game?” she hummed. She did wonder what Daedalus might look like, bathed in her rust and his own. Would he make the same kind of face those two did, teetering on the edge of savagery? Poppy thought he must be a force of nature, that way, with these measured nips as his standard. It made her smile suddenly, as if she’d been enlightened.

“You’re right, I guess. There’s something to letting go sometimes, perhaps?” Something delightfully devilish. She was reminded of the way she overhead boys mention Phaedra at school and thought it was something of the same.


Danny was quick enough with his reply. He would be waiting in the woods, same place as yesterday. When he arrived, ahead of Dion, he stuck his head into the room where Agnes had fallen asleep waiting. He watched for the rise and fall of her chest before ducking back out to smoke against the side of the trailer. He didn’t like seeing the kids much, preferred to dump them where they were needed and wait for the aftermath. Sometimes, they made it out alive and he felt better about himself. Girls like Agnes were happy for the money, even if there were pieces missing from their thighs. Danny could pretend like he’d done everyone a service, that way.

Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on June 20, 2017, 09:45:16 am
Dion had also indulged in whatever feeling comes with a conventional romance when they came to the softest stop he could manage. He took the helmet back from her, and thought he should get another one from the garage of the summer house. It smelled like her hair when he put it on. He'd not liked this kind of imagery with others, he remembered as he fastened the snap, but with Phae it seemed anything less would be both untrue and lacking. If he wanted to kiss her again the carbon fiber now between them made for a great barrier. He felt proud even, when he managed to ride away, thinking his next bad thing would be for the best of reasons.


Armand had quite enough of the Price son for some time. He still had marks on his face from their little meeting by the lockers. Armand was a loyal friend to a point, but he'd liked to think the band of boys was meant for him when Dionysus was off doing other things. Shouting about Sugar today hadn't even been to insult, but he could not take it back easily when he was cornered and the others were watching. Damned Dion had snuck up on him, too. He'd fixed his black hair, volumous, and made sure there were no vessels broken in his brown eyes. His uniform was straight.

He disliked Dion even more when he delivered Phaedra back to school, and she looked after him like he was going off to win a war. Arman stood by her soon and looked her over. Phae always looked exceptional in her clothes, proper and well pressed. Now he thought, beside the ruffle that comes with the wind of such an ineffective vehicle, that her collars were out of place. It hurt his stomach to quickly go over what this might mean, and made him further adamant on his course of action.

"Phaedra." he said and looked the direction Dion had disappeared. "I need to speak to you. It's pretty important. It's about Dionysus Price. Let's go to the new library." he liked the thought of being alone with her in the unfinished spaces, with tarp and light coming in through plastic. He wanted her to know about Dion, and he hoped it would wash her innocent heart of whatever Dion had forced into it, using the hold any employer has.


To Hane it was beautiful seeing the taste he’d offered still solid in her mouth when she started drinking from his fingers. He’d only really eaten, not shared, before, intact mostly, until now. There was a fervent delight in being accepted like this. Tension in tendons when she took the very points of his fingers. What a pretty, cruel little animal this person was. His arm was ringing from the bad treatment that felt like spoiling. He wanted more when the sensation was becoming familiar. A lesson for Poppy then, so she would know what might happen to Dion if he lost control. It might be fortunate for her brother that he was heavily sadistic, while Hane was a sensory glutton.

Dae thought she tasted well, her blood on his tongue but not drawn from her lips this time. He searched deeper for the answer for her still addictive flavor, but only found that she was sweeter there, and that it did little to sate him. “I haven’t yet.” He told her about the act he’d invited Hane and Dulcinea here to carry through. He wasn’t opposed to letting others see, an educator, but his time was better spent building than teaching individuals. Poppy a blaring exception, always. It tasted well when she agreed a person has something to gain from amok, and took it as further consent.

The king started at her blouse, steps behind Hane when the boy opened Sugar’s bra. It was hard or impossible to know if Dae meant to kiss here there, or leave a mark. They had to be more careful than the already bloodied pair. Poppy’s doctor wouldn’t want to see her with waving ridges cut out of her perfect skin. And perhaps the King didn’t want that, either. “Then you should let some go now, Poppy.” He suggested as he drew with his finger down her now exposed collarbone, following the line low before turning his eyes up again, yellow questions in the scruffy features looking for a nod, or even an allowing breath before he’d nip without breaking. It’d look like worship, and feel like delightful punishment.

Hane kissed Sugar’s stomach, body between her legs, his beautiful face was smeared in his life, and his chin left rubies on her skin to gather in her navel. When he lapped out of it, he didn’t feel satisfied and raked with upper teeth around that little pool. Another tremble, tell-tale, and he looked up at her, eager to be let loose so he could try a deeper bite.


Dion was violent with this landing, but took care to leave the bike vertical, at least. He was developing quite the symbiosis with this machine. Danny, for all his ill-breeding, was a pleasant addition to this woodwork. The smile on the prince’s face might not be so convincing, but at least he thought the dealer was worth the courtesy. Madly Dion hoped that Danny had Phae in there, somehow, and that the dream could continue from that point, so he’d have the courage to eat her like he had the poor girl from yesterday. It was a simple truth that Phaedra would die beautifully. “Ah, the keeper of the candy store.” Dion joked and the merry didn’t reach his green eyes, which Danny had already seen today, though in a typically lighter rendition.

He stood by the ruff man for a while, shorter than he thought but longer than would be necessary. Danny couldn’t be new to this kind of air, where someone who might want his favors in the future was trying not to be too insulting now. Dion extended another neatly folded wealth of paper to the man. It wasn’t for anything in particular, but he’d rather not owe Danny if he needed something quick. Danny wasn’t the kind to forget a payment. “Alright, sir. Good talk. I’m just gonna…” and he was already in the door.

The scent from yesterday’s girl was gone, and he could sense the filth of the new one. He shed his jacket on the way, and was wearing nothing on his torso by the time he found the sleeping treat. “Hey.” He said, and it was more gentle than he thought he meant to be. His hand wanted hers, and his fingers made it known, palm up. “I’m here now.” A bit more insistent and assumptive. Dion, after all. He was very happy to see her, and had the kind of look on him that suggested she was important, and very pleasant to look at. She looked a little like salvation to him, for Phaedra. Another rush of remembrance; her honeyed blood, her teasing texture. He swallowed and grabbed the girl’s arm and lifted, suddenly frustrated. He needed to cure his palled. This lovely, tattered thing had a ways to  go to earn her price.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on June 24, 2017, 05:23:03 pm
This day had begun as betrayal for her brother with the finest heart. Now, Poppy had been pulled into the dirtiness of Dion’s world by its king, and she hadn’t realized it. Her finest heart was meaningless when she continued to ignore the buzzing phone in her skirt pocket. She could defend herself: there were any number of useless calls that might be interrupting her now. But Poppy Price was a measured and proper girl. Poppy Price would have, at least, verified the uselessness of that call under any other circumstance. This was an excuse, her finest ammunition. She couldn’t add Phaedra’s fate or Caspian’s heart to her conscience if she remained blind to it.

Poppy hummed with humor and the pleasantness of this lewd behavior when Dae addressed her blouse. He’d already claimed a button and a stain on this particular garment. It only seemed right that she’d not stop him with his continued curiosity. She watched him examine the sweep of her collarbones and was certain he must find the pleasing, because Poppy and Dion had always known they were beautiful. “Show me,” she replied again, because she had made this into some ridiculous cultural exchange and the King had facilitated it. Her gasp was harmony with his teeth on her soft skin.

Sugar, who had come to give a show, found herself on the receiving end of one now. She arched her back to give Hane the access to her abdomen he wanted. “You’re a good boy.” She acquiesced, and it was condescending but it didn’t matter. When he made her bleed, she would give him breathy sounds of approval. While he tried his teeth, she would watch the king take Poppy Price’s flavor with a keen appreciation for the irony of it all.

Sugar wondered if Phaedra was dead.


Phaedra did not want to go with Armand, when he called her over. She would have preferred to keep her picture of Dion pristine, which meant the one she’d carved of him without anyone else’s truths. The dichotomy was that she could not deny most anything that might bring her closer to the boy she’d adored so dutifully. She agreed to go with him, but did so hesitantly. The nervousness with which she followed Armand to the unfinished library should have indicated her unhappiness with his request. Instead, she must have looked like any other shy girl following Armand to learn his pleasures.

Surely, there would be rumors tomorrow from the students who had not yet left to go home.

“What is it?” she asked him, when they were alone and Phae had mustered the courage to sound defensive. It was meant to seem like a warning. Armand was supposed to be Dion’s friend. Instead, is was just a meek girl showing a new streak of defiance—the sort of flavor that fell breathless into bed with boys that wore troubled pasts like cufflinks. Improper, and it spoke volumes to the closeness she’d shared with Dion on his bike and the rumple of her blouse.


Agnes woke listlessly and blinked at Dion with an unfocused gaze. She was sluggish, which made her simple, and she was a calf for his slaughterhouse with glassy dumb eyes. He was pretty, which was nice, and she had been promised compensation for appeasing him. She reached out to him with her bound wrists when he offered his palm. “Hi?” she answered his greeting with a question. She was a commodity this evening, and had been waiting on this bed for hours. “I’m Agnes.” She said. She hadn’t planned to bother with her name, but he was looking at her like it might matter. That was unsettling, but not uncomfortably so. She had agreed to this, but there was some relief in the lie that he was regarding her with something more human than Hunger. “But I guess you can call me whatever you want.” She added.

Outside, Danny leafed through the additional bills Deerest had left with him. He supposed it could go toward paying off the girl, if she had legs to walk out of the trailer with once the Price boy was done with her.

Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on June 25, 2017, 08:04:55 pm
Dae heard the phone and its efforts through the muffling skirt. He was flattered that the woman would ignore it for him. And that she would allow his teeth. He kissed the corner of her oval, shallow cavern, the scent of her skin clean, what else, when he stayed there. Perhaps the kiss was more telling than anything else he might do. Daedalus indulged like he told the children of the Hunger to indulge. A simple matter first, to hook teeth into the skin to lift it, and then a deft clip of the lower row, as well, to claim just a little cut, and leave him with a nail's worth of her. He savored any reaction she'd give under him.

"I think I am being a bad teacher for you, Poppy." he admitted before sucking lightly at the product of his bite, hands on her waist to have more intimacy. "I don't feel very objective with you." he moved upward again. "Ah, but maybe you can learn from that too, about the nature of the Hunger." It was pertinent to pretend this was a lesson, an immersion, for as long as she would have it. He offered her the ghost of her irons on his breath when he courted the cuts on her lips again.

With some skill he leaned back and pulled her with him until he sat and she was on him, her legs on either side of his. Fingertips examined her throat, or was it a ruse to hold the back of her head? He had her closer to all his enamel weapons. "Are you going to indulge?" he wanted to raise her pulse so he could bathe his kisses in it, and dip his teeth deep. He wanted to contaminate her with the hunger, not so much for her brother anymore, but so that she'd be in his world, so he had access to her. His patience was thinning in tandem with the engagement of his eyes. Maybe Poppy could see the danger in rousing and then playing with the Blood King. Maybe Poppy could learn to love it.

If Poppy came down to reciprocate any of Dae's intentions, he'd look over her shoulder at Sugar as the boy who failed to be Dion, but perhaps could illustrate his possible fate, bit eagerly at Dulcinea's abdomen. Hane moaned at the flavor, and at the decadent amount he received, but the moans were also for how beautifully she moved against him, which made his jeans even more of a restriction. Sugar was an expert at mixing the two lusts, and Hane was thoroughly persuade by that spell. "Please." he mumbled into flesh he'd stripped of white skin as he pulled himself out.

What a lovely show for the two watching in their couch, and what an experience they exuded, too. Maybe it was Sugar who'd be the best spoiled out of all of them, to have been set on the King's table, only to have the Fox Lord and the stoic Poppy herself stand for the entertainment.


Armand, who'd readily play some obvious rascal any other day, felt the tug of his real sentiments when he was walking by the paints and the hammers at the mouth of the construction. A magic window in time, between rushing students and working handymen. He would have said something crass if anyone else described this to him, but he thought these things and liked them, for himself. It wasn't hard to pretend Phaedra was a prospect heart for his, and it was even easier to let himself think more of it until they stood where plastic sheets obscured them so many times it would be hard to guess at their presence, even if you were looking. In this struggling daylight the tilted state of her uniform gossiped louder than he could be deaf to.

It broke his spirit a little, and then the sweetness that had always been meant for Phaedra, that perhaps Poppy had seen, lost to the angry alpha that yelled about Dion's cock and Sugar's teeth. "I think you should listen carefully. Don't rush me!" he bit. Two breaths to collect himself, because it was hard to stand Phae like this, putting thoughts of intimacy into his head but with a tail of jealousy. Dion had haunted him enough. "I think Dionysus is like those others that got kicked out of school." Since it was never proven their departures were never official. They were made to quit, often by Dion himself.

"I know the signs and I've only ignored them because it's him. But he has trouble at home, and we both know a lot needs to boil before there's froth coming out under the lid in the Price house." he looked at her, and came closer, half an arm's length now. He wanted this to be a bridge between them. He wanted this to be something they had in common. Hatred for the hungry. "He hangs out with Dulcinea and he's acting all weird. I saw him with a girl during gym and he looked like he was measuring her bruises." he said and sighed. "Listen, Phaedra. I know it's hard to believe but I think Dion has it, the thing he's not allowed to." He thought she was unbearably beautiful now, with her minuscule bravado, but he also thought it was atrocious that she smelled like Dion. "I... I wanted to tell you because I didn't want it to hurt you when I bring this up to the others." he muttered. Not a confession, but something like it. "I mean. I never want to hurt you."

It couldn't dawn on the torn boy that he'd given up his plans to Dion's perhaps most loyal ally. "Maybe it's better you stay away from him while I sick some of my other friends on him." He smiled a little. Aren't I decisive, with my big black hair and my dark eyes? He took her hand, which hadn't been the plan, but she was being irresistible, coming here with him. "I just wanted you to know first, so you can be careful, and stay away from him." It seemed she was hearing that a lot, lately, and she'd not listened. What would she do instead, with Dion's fate painted to plainly.


Dion held her up by the bonds around her wrists when she offered. Small laughter at the delights he counted in purple and blue underneath her skin. This was adequate replacement, and such a different thing than that which she was making him forget. He pushed a nail into the thick of the zip-tie, and drew the tie wide now that he'd undone it's lock. "Agnes. How perfect." that she had a name at all, since he wasn't sure all roadside flowers do. Dion rolled back a little, treasuring her hand to his cheek where they sat. It sounded so much like peace of mind, her heart.

Looking through the length of her arm, he thought she was complete. What a commodity, a local thing, sprung from the ground and wearing all her life on her filth. "Tell me what you do all day." Surely it wasn't cleaning father's house, and listening and nodding diligently when Poppy spoke. He'd hear her out while he pulled at her sleeve, what little there was, covering her shoulder. He made sure to draw in all her scents when he leaned into her, and bit her like a lover first, teeth and saliva but no blood. He was her lover for exactly half a moment before he broke that skin that couldn't belong to anyone important.

The first swallow was luke warm, and he shoved her back for that insult, his jaws circling to grind her down. "You've gone bad." he said with horror, holding his mouth as he swallowed. Dion licked his fingers and recognized all the copper tones and salt tails, but couldn't find any of the magic he'd had in here yesterday. He shook his head and grabbed her hair, slamming her into the wall as he picked up her hand and took a finger. The break rattled the inside of his ears and he closed his eyes to traverse the flavors. He sat back, and let go of Agnes that he had loved deeply for less than a minute. This meat was just water scented with Agnes's sweat.

He was outside soon, animal face painted in human smears. "What's wrong with the girl in there? You give me the the bargain bin?" he hissed when he shoved Danny. "Something's wrong. She's not as vivid as the others. Why can't I taste the magic?" he demanded, furious.

How was he supposed to wash Phae away with something so pedestrian? He'd not asked himself yet, if it was possible to be clean of that new addiction at all.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on June 29, 2017, 05:42:59 am
Agnes had the audacity to blush for him when he gave her name back to him. This was the power of being a Price, after all. Her reaction was the sort of thing Dion must be used to. Phaedra had not made such a different face for him, and yet Agnes was nothing of the dark-haired maid and her midnight eyes. Perhaps it was because Dion had asked Danny for a girl more like Poppy. There was no accounting for a change in appetite. Not that it would have mattered much. Poor Agnes couldn’t hold a candle to either of the Price boy’s familiar women.

“I mean, I go here and there. Wherever, really. Make new friends…” Agnes couldn’t help but apply a more romantic gloss to her drifting. It seemed appropriate for this boy and his expectations. And it was obvious he had expectations. She went on about it for a little, painting her drug abuse in artistic hues. It was convincing enough that she might have had some storytelling talent in another life. The tale-spinning died in a gasp pulled by his teeth. She shivered, because the sensation was at once terrible and lovely.

The irony of Dion’s disgust was that Agnes might well have had a heart like Phae’s; confused but earnest and eager for their choice addictions. Enough conflict in their young limbs to reach out for a lust they didn’t belong to. Agnes looked as if he’d slapped her face when he recoiled at her taste, but by the time she’d stopped her ragdoll against the wall her eyes had recaptured their glassy listlessness. Defeated children are quick to return to their sanctuaries. It had been cruel of Dion to give her that tiny taste of humanity, but it was no crueler than her usual lot. Even her sharp cry and sob when he took one of her sparse digits was lackluster.

Agnes tumbled when he let her go, but she was alive to do so. It might be her luck that Dion hadn’t the taste for her. She watched him leave while she slumped against the bed. “Of course I’ve gone bad.” She mumbled after he was gone.

Danny was unimpressed by Dion’s wrath. “You got what you paid for, kid. A whole, live human being ready to stop breathing for your dessert.” Danny said on the butt of his cigarette. He inclined his head. “Everyone gets the bargain bin. That’s all any of you can pay for. I told you, if you’re in the mood to be picky you can go into the city and pick through the Fox King’s turf on your own.” Matter-of-fact, with his arms crossed and his jaw set like he was prepared to fight over it. Danny didn’t go anywhere there were Hungry people without a loaded piece tucked away. He’d had this argument more than a few times, and there were a couple kids around town with a limp to prove the outcome.

Danny was a last resort fighter, though. He ran an odd business for a man without a taste for it, but that was half of why he was successful. He could stare at Dion with a piercing sort of objectivity that should have been frightening. This was a man that walked the razer’s edge of regret and psychopathy. “It’s not my problem if something else has got your tongue distracted. This girl hasn’t got any real reason to taste worse than what Sugar shared with you yesterday.” It was true. Danny didn’t have access to boys like Hane. When he brought Sugar gifts, it was because they were violently expendable. Not because they were pampered.


And Sugar was enjoying Hane at least half as much as he was enjoying her, which was enough to give him a show for his efforts and some pleasantries for the king. She wondered if Hane would be offended if he realized she was much more intrigued by Daedalus and his new preoccupation. It felt like a dirty secret, which she was more than happy to keep, and it was better knowing the two halves of the Price pair were both drowning in their own ways.

Her attention was pulled back to her company and his basic male demands. Ocher eyes blinked twice like he’d asked for something ridiculous, but she shrugged in the end. “If you think you can.” She acquiesced with all the affection of a spider queen. He could take his strokes while she took all the flesh between his collarbones. Maybe it’d be a turn on to watch him gurgle in his efforts. Sugar would have her teeth in him as quickly as he had himself in her, and he’d be fortunate she was finicky about watching things die or he’d be cold on the table. He didn’t taste unusually good, but all the frantic chemicals in his blood did make him better. He’d be sweeter still while his body adored hers.

Poppy would have been horrified by the roiling descent of the two bloody artists on the dining set if she’d been paying it any real mind. It was too hard to concentrate on that when Daedalus was beneath her and the iron in the air might as well have been entrancing. She was smiling more than she usually did, and it was sharp and pretty the way a wild thing should be. Poppy Price did not see herself as a wild thing. She did not move off the Fox though, responding to his suggestions like they were dancing there, on the couch with their teeth and their half-formed words. “Do you want me to?” she hummed. “Objectively, I shouldn’t. But, as you say, that’s not really the sentiment now, maybe?” she was practically playing herself and enjoying it too.

He’d see it in her verdant stare—Poppy hadn’t missed the anticipation, or insistence, lurking beneath his composure. She let her lips graze his cheek, the fine points of her sharpest teeth indenting but not piercing. When she laughed, breath on his ear, it was clear she was willing to wait for whatever boil over might come. It was also clear that, while she might be fooling herself into thinking that was some form of winning, she was just as eager to meet whatever he gave with equal intention.


It took all of Phaedra’s will to keep her composure when Armand revealed his dire news. She’d thought she’d been ready for it. Most of what he said was no surprise. Phae had nearly touched below her chest where Dion’s teeth had left neat stitches. Armand was correct. Dion absolutely had the thing he wasn’t allowed to. Dion was simmering and ravenous. Phaedra had felt it in the tension of his body above her and the wrench of her jaw. It made her heart beat faster to think of it. As if Dion and his Hunger might as well have been the same thing to her if it all resulted in craving her.

She nodded along seriously with the things Armand said though, until he mentioned unleashing the adolescent wolves. Phae forgot to breath until she realized she should speak. “Oh. You’re… you’re right he’s been acting odd. Maybe he’s just feeling unwell though?” she suggested, and thought it would be a reasonable thing to come to his defense that way. It wasn’t as if Armand was unaware of her place in the Price home. “Perhaps you two could just talk it over on your own first? You’re friends, right?” a weak laugh. “I’m sure there might be some other explanation.” Phae said, but even she was certain she sounded unconvincing.   
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on June 29, 2017, 01:51:27 pm
Dion, breathing with the temperature of Agnes’s often mixed up blood, looked at Danny as though the dealer was being very insolent. In truth, the life that the discarded girl had should be enough to laden her flavor with all manner of adventures for the eager palled on the silver spoon tongue. The way she’d held up her story for him to see too, would have enticed the Price boy even before he’d been paying for her insides. Instead he stood here in a stark now, spending anger on the person he’d spent bills on just recently.

Danny was making sense and being honest for a man who’d take currency and deliver mayhem. Dion didn’t really care, spine charged kinetic. He was used to getting his whims pandered to and being beaten up wasn’t such a bad way to expel energy. He was in fact deciding on how to assault Danny when the owner of the candy story key made sense about a new favorite for his mouth. Dion took a step back, new wrath ignited with disbelief and then drowned by fear. “W-what?” he demanded, none of the  gladiator’s spirit left. The girl with Sugar had been magnificent. Dion shook his head and tried his tongue against the vault of his mouth. “Is that even possible?” Dumb, lectured boy. He knew well that libations had varying degrees of adherence to different souls.

Dion barreled passed Danny, making sure their shoulders collided. It wasn’t a challenge, it was the only skirmish they’d have. He spat as he held the helmet in his palms, legs already thrown around the bike. Acrid, foul Agnes. With enough particles in the air behind him, he was on his way out from the gravel road and its harrowing truth. Dion had to stop for a single car crossing on the road, and he cussed into Phae’s scent in the padding of the protective headgear as he hammered his knuckles against the tank. A beautiful storm of long limbs, practicing its malwheather on the expensive vehicle for the passerby in their coupe to enjoy. And then Dion and his father’s bike were on their way to the city again. He’d try the kingdom, then, and rinse this new addiction off.


Hane had perfect confidence in his greed, and the continued state of his pride between them was as much of a nod as Sugar would need for her spoken challenge. He squeezed himself harder when her mouth neared and then moaned breathless upon her teeth on his bones. Eager thing, but well-practiced in the other, less bloody fleshward activity. It was almost too much, though, for the supposed swordsman, when she was so unromantic about it, dressing him in her body and accessorizing with his blood. It was completely new to him, and his babbling senses, when he looked down between them and saw the treasure from the her stomach spilling a red sheet down to help with the friction inside her. There was nothing between  his newly wrought hunger, and the one all men knows, then. Evil Dulcinea, giving him so much, and killing him for it. Like a creature they were not, he held on to her and bit into her neck then, to have some more swallows, unaware that he was barely a leech on her, while she stared at the pair behind him.

Dae laughed softly, looking up at Poppy while she wound her words around their moment. They had mirrored the scene on the table, a little. Of course, Sugar’s stomach was bleeding more and he wasn’t lost to the throes as much as poor Hane. “Yes, I want you to. I want it dearly.” As the King of the coming redness, and as someone who met you today. The sound that lived in his chest when she courted his cheek wasn’t mirth, not the way it laced with a forgotten growl, thunder, playing at a purr. He warned her with a stroke on the back of her neck. Lightly, now. And then he took her hand, decisive, and put it exactly in the middle of their bodies as he rolled the sleeve of her already parted blouse. You’ve done it now, Poppy.

A dear thing, her extremity, he played, as he held it to his face and kept the yellow eyes on hers, testing her forearm against his scruff. His bite wasn’t a surprise when he folded his lips over the muscles that increased her limb’s width toward the elbow. When her skin would inevitably part, his other hand not keeping hers in place, came up to lock one vertical finger over her mouth to make a cross with her lips. It was spice, of course, she could gasp if she wanted, but he’d rather it be a failure of composure than an outright compliment to his teeth. His tongue, curious about her texture was treated to the coils of her skin that climbed the length of his pearl pillars as they went deeper into her. Delectable aristocrat. It seemed he was toying with his own fire, as well, unsheathing from her new wounds to drink from them, as though that was it, no mar for you, but it was suddenly followed by a return of the King blades, scooping up the flesh he’d been teasing. He was probably ready to give away his restraint, or maybe he had already, but he’d enjoy it when it would be worth the most to both of them.

Underneath the royal facade, a roiling promise that the drive that held up this kingdom would be funneled into having at Poppy, instead.

Hane suckled at her nectar leak, humming as he drove to have her in that other way too. He’d not had the honing of his pleasures yet, and it might be a bit sad that he was alone when his worship was directed elsewhere, and he was abandoned to thinking he was part of her.


Armand was inclined to be swayed by Phaedra. She was one for facts when she could soften them with her own sensibilities. Out of place here, in their gilded, jagged world. It wasn’t strange that she had a few willing to court her when she was the image that all the masked princesses tried to emulate. Armand, who was a product of these ballrooms, had recognized her as something genuine and at first liked her simply because of that. And then she’d charmed him. He did not see her pretend at first, when she listened, because he wasn’t looking for deceit. He felt proud that she’d stay so calm, and took her initial agreement as a great victory. He must be making more sense than he thought, to have the Price’s maid see his side.

But even if his heart went on, eating up her act, his sense caught a few signs that she was not being herself. These moments are primed to be unusual, maybe she was just nervous around him, certainly other girls were. He quieted eventually, holding on to her hand when realization bloomed in him like rot in summer. He let go of her hand, even though that was more of a punishment to him. “You knew.” He said, and didn’t understand that conclusion before he heard it. She wasn’t fretting enough, and wasn’t trying to appease him with her thin laughter. She was pretending for someone else. That was unacceptable.

And then her collars wailed of debauchery, and her act stood out against the backdrop of the interactions they’d had in the past. It was an easy enough step, thinking the next thing. “You’ve seen it firsthand haven’t you, Phaedra?” he asked with hurt in his voice. He thought she owed him more. His arm was heavy, but he was strong and fast enough to lift it and pull her collar aside violently before she’d be able to turn and run. If he’d meant to confess today, in the clear castle of their plastic realm, there was no need for it anymore, because it could have been nothing less than disappointed infatuation that turned his expression so hollow. Those bitemarks, like planetary rings out of sync. Bitten more than once. She’d not only given Dionysus something so loving as  her adoration, but also her first real evil.

“How could you!” he demanded and his shoulders were deathly low before his limbs exploded into a surge toward her, shaking her and dropping her on the floor. “Is that how the world is? Dion is all knowable monsters and he still gets everything?” he wanted from her but her answers couldn’t possibly matter unless she somehow knew a spell to heal her skin and his memory. “I’ll expose him!” he said to the pretty girl that he’d toppled. “Hah. I’ll burn him.” he said and turned to take a few steps before circling back. “He turned your head.” Madly now. Phae had to be innocent. This didn’t make sense otherwise. “Yes. Ah. He used his power over you.” You didn’t wave at him just now, like he was the sun of your day. “That fucker’s dead, don’t you worry.”
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on July 01, 2017, 12:16:41 am
Danny finished another cigarette before he went in to get Agnes. He’d been smoking more, lately, but he’d also been dealing in people more than parts these days. It made him feel marginally better about himself to have a metric suggested he was affected by the work. That was neither right nor healthy, but neither were the cigarettes. “Well, kid, looks like you’ve made it without too much of a thrashing.” Danny said when he helped her to her feet. He made sure the binds on her wrists were cut loose before he gestured toward the door. “I’ve got your money in the car.” He said, and glanced at her brutalized hands. He wondered how she managed to keep shooting up without a reasonable number of digits. He was certain she was in pain and still swallowing the trauma of whatever Deerest had unleashed. The boy had obviously given Agnes enough of a try to know he hated her.

Agnes nodded numbly and followed Danny out. If she was bothered by the bleeding and yet another bit of her taken away, it was not apparent. She only winced once, and it was unemotional at best. Her eyes lit up when he handed her the fat wad of bills. In reality, it wasn’t anywhere near what Deerest had paid to have her waiting, but those details hardly mattered. This would be enough to keep her in a heady fog for a while longer. She smiled at Danny and her teeth were gapped in an endearing way. “Maybe try and keep the rest of those.” Danny said, pointing at her knuckles. Agnes shrugged.

“Don’t need ‘em,” she said, and turned on her heels to disappear into the woods.


Phaedra swallowed hard and flinched as if he were beating her, writhing to be free when he pulled at her collar. “Armand, please stop!” she gasped. The felt too much like overflow, like she’d asked for too much and gotten something uncontainable in return. Phae, who had never been a good liar, should have considered the hopelessness of casting herself into Dion’s arms. She’d need to be better for him, if she was going to vie to be his only. Her thoughts were spinning, too fast, but rising desperation is fire for inspiration. “I know he’s struggling with it, yes.” Phaedra blurted.

“I work for his family, you know? I’ve been… trying to help him past it. This way is safer.” Phaedra said. It wasn’t wholly false, so she could eat the deceit. In some sense, she believed a part of it. She wanted to be Dion’s salvation. If Armand had heard her, it had not helped. She cried out when he cast her to the floor. Her hair fell like a veil, hiding her stricken expression and the welling tears.

When she looked up at him, she was horrified. “No, you can’t!” Phaedra begged. “Don’t hurt him, please!” Phae reached, as if she were considering touching Armand with plaintive fingers. Instead, her outstretched hand hung in the air. “I can’t let you. I’ll do anything to keep him safe,” Phaedra had always been destined to be problematic, then. Her heart for Dion was too willing. She was too eager to do anything, if her Dionysus was any part of it.


Poppy’s attention broke for the briefest moment. Hane and Dulcinea were churning in too much primal to fully ignore, and she found the scent of their blood on the air had shifted. Such an animalistic thing to notice. Dulcinea was feasting and Hane was euphoric for it. She wanted to criticize the base mixing of all those archaic desires, but even Poppy was grounded enough to avoid that hypocrisy. There she was, after all, astride a man she’d only just met with all the interest she’d ever directed toward Cas and more. Dulcinea would play this game until Hane passed out from exertion, a paucity of blood, or both. There was, now, a gash in his chest that he’d surely wear for years to come.

Poppy shivered when she looked back at caught the look in Dae’s eyes. When he took her hand, it filled her with dread and anticipation. His scruff was rough, but pleasant on her skin, and she might have laughed and made to kiss him had they been somewhere else. A soft white bed and a Sunday morning, promises of brunch and a tryst beyond the sheets. This was not that world, though, and it was more urgent for it. She was tense when he sank his teeth into her, deeper than he’d allowed to this point, and it drew a hard and ragged breath from between her lips. A sound with it, small, but his finger was silencing enough and the flooding scent of her own split flesh made her mouth water. She opened her mouth to hook over the digit and pierce it also.

It was enough to call on the rushing tide beneath her skin, beneath her pulse, and she made a murmuring sound before pushing her cheek into his palm, pressing his arm away enough that she could have at his forearm in some silly, equal exchange. She did not hesitate to bite him deeply, gasping because her own nerves had been shredded on his teeth.   
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on July 01, 2017, 06:32:33 pm
It was too much insult for Armand to know that Phae had used her own body to quell Dion's unnatural hunger. The proof was plain enough, and it hurt the lovesick boy that was also always carrying the little rages of a grown man. Struggling? It didn't seem like Dion ever struggled with anything. Not with leading their group or having the perfect life, even when he came battered to school with his shirt the wrong color. And now this, Phaedra's clean skin for his teeth. Armand recognized the jealousy that welled, but he didn't know for what, exactly - he certainly didn't want to have the hunger, and at the same time, he'd like to be any kind of sick if Phaedra wanted to be the medicine.

"Safer." he muttered under his breath, like she was a child saying fantastical nonsense. Maybe he'd prefer Dion eat half the school before he tasted Phae. She fell in a way that made him want to catch her, and it made the male stir in the boy, too. He imagined she'd be even lovelier when bitten, and that made him all the more wrathful. Such a wonderful scene on her, with her hair underlining her distress. Armand did not know he had these tastes.

It was this new thing that relished in her offer, and lamented the arm she'd placed between them, reaching as though she finally needed him, like his vengeance was just a natural force, and she was asking him to redirect it, somehow. Phaedra innocent, with her sweet tongue, offering anything if he forgot about justice. He had fear in dark eyes, but it was at the delight he felt. Armand was on his knees by her soon. It was still unbearable that she'd be so fond of Dionysus. Really, it was the Price boy that brought this on her.

"Would you pretend I'm him then." Because that damned boy had everything Arman could want now. He was still wearing marks of Dion's fists and here he was, balancing on his kneecaps, asking to be him. He'd rather forgive her for offering herself up in the stead of someone who couldn't possibly be worth it. "I've always liked you, Phae." because confessing more wouldn't stay with her the way it should, now. "You're so pretty walking through the corridors." What a dumb way of putting it. He took the hand she held up and held it between his. There was still anger in him, brimming, but he wanted her more than Dion's downfall. Perhaps that'd change. "Everyone else is... untrue." his fingers squeezed harder. "Make me believe I'm your Dion, then. If you're good enough, I might sympathize with him." Maybe she could have something from that game, too, because Dion was famously unavailable to his belles. Armand loathed that he thought in that way.

As formidable as a raging boy can be, his heart bleeds the same. Armand was in her predicament without noticing - willing to overlook the sin of being hungry if there was the right kind of love to talk the prejudice down.


Poppy was so present when she returned from looking at the bloodier pair. Dae felt every bit the king he was rumored to be when she let him taste her bone. And then her teeth on his forearm - every step she took gave him twice the satisfaction, because there was the physical reward, and the amazement at Poppy's continued submersion into this world. Her pulse was perfect, her taste was raw, and elegant the way natural things are elegant.

He was a bit confused over what this was when her cheek took up home in his palm, and thought it was a kinder connection than had been their theme. Something he read a bit as adoring, from himself. It was not an unwelcome startle that Poppy could be lovely in that way too. Wasn't that one of her appeals, also, wielded by her smarts and sharpened by her beauty? Incisors into muscles reminded him she had other edges, and he was awoken from the lull enough to lift his forearm a little, which brought her chin along, up, so that her throat was fully laid out for him. He licked a few more times on the cuts he'd offered to her collarbones while he stared at her windpipe.

It'd be too much of a claim, the way he wanted it, so he kissed her sternum high, instead, and the peck brought along a small helping of skin that he effectively cut away from her and ate. Little crescents like this, all the way down to the valley. Precise pattern, like she'd meant to adorn herself this way. He thought it should be enough, and let the next motion in their dance be hers to decide, but the small tastes were electrifying, and stayed in his head like little plagues, and rocketed out into his body.

He flexed his hand, and sent more of the livid rush she gave out into his arm. His finger still wore the ring her teeth had left. When she let go, either with a mouthful of him or just the satisfaction of having left a jagged circle, he pushed her back, laying her on his legs, her head spilling back to consider Hane and Sugar upside down as he breathed on her ribs. Her pulse shook his kisses before he pressed weapons in between those bars, cutting skin to see buds spring. It was meant to be a light visit from a controlled pair of lips, and then her growing copper pattern felt like an argument on his tongue.

He bit harder than he meant, and it felt better than he thought.

Hane looked down at his chest and then up at Sugar again. If there was anything that surfaced underneath the rapture she'd blanketed his gaze with it might be gratitude. He was in pain, of course, from the waltz she ordered through his waiting synapses, but he was growing parched for it. It couldn't be new to Dulcienea to have some novice hold on to her for both the vices, and it would probably not move her in some somber way that Hane thought he had a moment with her while she was more than likely looking beyond his pretty but naive body to see the other two.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on July 04, 2017, 11:36:02 pm
Phae was nauseous when Armand drew near. She preferred him standing above her, because she was used to serving and could do that numbly. Phaedra did not want him at her level. She was pallid but still when he gave her some aspect of a confession. It wasn’t that Phae had been so enamored with Dion’s violence that Armand’s contradictory innocence in expression fell dull. But it was, unfortunately, that she’d been swept up on the dangerous tide of Dion’s Hunger and how that made him take her body. It was a significant exertion of her will that kept her dark eyes doe-like when she stared back at the boy. He could never be Dion, he hadn’t the mettle or the heart. Perhaps, if Armand hadn’t been so challenged, he might be a sweeter heart than Dionysus Price. A better match, even, for the pretty girl and her fairytale dreams. Phaedra would not have chosen him still.

“I…” Phae began, and didn’t know where to end. The thought of giving her body to anyone but Dion left a vile taste in her mouth, but then she was forced to remember Dulcinea and the way even that girl had made her blood run quick. Phaedra swallowed hard. She wasn’t so incredibly dumb that she hadn’t seen the weapon her womanhood. “I can’t make believe if I’m worrying about you hurting him. You must promise me that you won’t… or I can’t pretend. I’ll be thinking about him and you don’t want that, right?” she said, quick rush of half mumbled syllables and a flare of pink across her cheeks.

“If you promise me, then,” she didn’t finish but glanced away, long neck and delicate collarbones. The rise and fall of her sweet and youthful swell. She didn’t have to tell him what he could try. Phaedra thought she must be no better than food for this, and prayed Dion would eat away all the places Armand touched. If it was even safe to look for him again. Phaedra quivered. “I can care about Dion’s friends too. I can care about you.” Dread under her tongue, but she tried to smile for him. It was in her interest that she was pretty when she was shaking, the way all impossibly dainty things are.


Sugar took her pleasure from the exotic, not silly trifles like Hane. Sweet boy, too sweet, and not yet big enough for the britches he thought to wear. He was getting a treat today, she thought, but was satisfied because the boy was looking at her with enough adoration to keep her lips wet. She tore a little harder at his skin, blinking over his shoulder as Dae found a new and unusual pace. It was exciting, really, because she was privy to a secret King now. She thought it was a shame that Poppy Price must not fully appreciate that.

But Poppy was indulging at least as much as Daedalus was, moaning against the sinew of his arm as he carved pretty pulses down her skin. Her heart was beating harder than it should have. Caspian hadn’t known her to fluster, even in their most intimate moments. She tore away flesh when she’d meant only to let go, and was delightfully repulsed when she felt herself chew and swallow him down. “You taste like you might addictive, Fox King,” Poppy muttered, and it was both bitter and mirthful.

She fell prettily the way he pushed her, something like this was choreographed, the two of them for one another. Poppy met Dulcinea’s stare when Dae pressed his teeth to the slender sweeps of her ribcage and gasped, arching toward his mouth and whimpering when he opened a new well of her finest red. “But you seem to enjoy me too. Is this your everyday? So bacchanalian,” she laughed so the column in her throat danced against the taut skin. It was bizarre, being here, and falling to this. A perverse euphoria, because she supposed this could be a stirring secret. She slid her hands near his lips so her fingers caught her own vice and brought it, then, to her lips. She’d tasted herself like this on Dion’s mouth. Would Dae find it funny, if he’d known she’d flirted with her brother’s Hunger first? It made this feel remarkably ironic, but she refused to believe it was anything other than her right.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on July 05, 2017, 11:14:05 am
Armand had of course wanted for Phaedra to be flattered outside her properties by his nearness. He’d been spoiled with as much from other girl hearts. It wasn’t that he thought he should have it, inside he didn’t feel so glorious that a perfect thing like Phae should stutter, but it would have helped him and his ego. Maybe he was the princely kind to want adoration wherever he went, but not in the case of his long-lived crush. Still, despite having abused her and her clothes, Arman had hoped a little stir was in order, but she was still composed, as much as she could be in this predicament.

He was still confident in his own clever, and the deal he’d put forth to get his way. The terms were perhaps too efficient, in that those were the only things she seemed to care about. Armand saw her deliberate inside herself, which was adorable and taxing on his drawn heart – because it meant she was here with her mind, but kept her emotions where the wild, toothed boy was – and shook his head at the conditions she pressed for her participation in his fantasy. Ah, that was a little cruel. Wasn’t he supposed to be too angry for this? Why was he reduced to relenting his vengeance? He thought of just continuing what he’d started, because Phaedra had other values than her forced approval, just putting her on the floor and testing her body with his could be delectable. If he could ultimately do that, then she would be in a disarray already. Maybe this was the most evil Phae could be, he thought, and the evil of it was that she meant to be a protector rather than an antagonist. Armand was the cost. Such ruthless love, she had.

“Promise?” he asked, and the skid of the words in his throat should tell her of the state of his thinning courage. Wasn’t it enough that he’d shaken and tossed her for her to know such a thing would be devastating to him. She should be fearful for her own safety too, with the face he’d shown just now. But the maid of the Price house wouldn’t think of herself if Dionysus was at peril. His head dropped into the pit where hope had been, or he was just looking at her skin, the way he’d exposed it. He wanted this pretend, and tried not to think of who’s hands had tasted her first. It could all be his, though, if he could stomach receiving it on merit of being Dion’s friend. She could let him have love because of his connection to her beloved. It was laughable how she tortured him without knowing.

“So if I’m his friend by not saying anything,” by protecting him. “you’ll care about me?” he wanted it to be poisonous, and hit like something corrosive on her skin, his words, but he was just hurt. “How can you ask for that? How can you be so loyal to him?” he demanded but was already lifting his hands to put fingertips on the side of her neck and the high of her chest. “Okay.” He gave, but it wasn’t final enough. “Fine. Yes. I promise I won’t do anything to hurt Dionysus. I’ll be his friend.” The corner of his mouth glistened where he stood on his knees by her, because the words made him sick. He was a rebel to his family and a hyena in their pack, his nature was not to willingly bow into a leash.

“But then you have to be a good friend to him too, Phaedra.” He said, and it was with a voice that held some power at last. He didn’t want to have her here, not like this, but it could be the start of something, maybe her recently untouched sensibilities could learn a lesson from him. He could teach himself to be a softer being, and then maybe she would understand the adrenaline that runs the encounters with boys like Dion wasn’t worth more than the headrushes, and that real value comes from fitting partnership. It could not be as hopeless as her heart being set, and that he was left with Dion’s scraps and reflected glow. “And you have to make me think your heart is mine.” Maybe she could even fool herself. “Show me your devotion.”

If she was anyone else he’d tear at her uniform and smear the tarp with her sweat. He didn’t know that Dion, always misguided by his new hunger, had already treated her to this kind of first, and that Armand might stand a better chance if he employed that kind of love, instead, with Phaedra’s preferences warping. The boy with the dark hair and blacker eyes held the back of her head and took his mouth closer, other hand gently listening to her blood’s march on her chest, through that bone highway. Despite his eager, he knew he was being diverted, and he could stand it for the right reward, but he’d not go into this entirely dumb, and so he wouldn’t paint his own game on her, she’d have to act it out for him too. He waited for her to meet him, and for her lips to have the right kind of urgency, fitting to a Phaedra he imagined as naïve, to a Dion who could be nothing but indifferent to her.


Daedalus held on to her sides with the arm she’d bit. That was the largest piece anyone had ever taken, and it didn’t have any consequence in his mind after having seen her chew it, like the forest god herself was trying flesh for the first time – contradictory, out of place and beautiful. He would not mind an addicted Poppy. She didn’t stay quiet for his bite, and he thought the sound was perfect. He wanted more of the blood, and more of her noises, so he hooked teeth over and under two ribs to squeeze them, and test their flexibility until the bellies of the two bones touched without breaking. That hard treatment would give her winged bruises surely, with the amount of vessels that must have been ruined, but it wouldn’t be a withstanding mark on her, as far as texture went. She’d still be able to dress in close clothes. Perhaps Sugar had the best view, seeing Poppy’s face from over there.

When Poppy’s finger came, he nipped at it when it stole the quarry he’d drawn, the sap he was lapping up, but it was affectionate and not possessive. “You’re a lovely child of the hunger too, Poppy, of course I enjoy you.” But that was not as personal as he meant to be. “Your aura is so restrained and your blood is so willing.” The flavor of it climbed his palled and went down his throat in a hurry, like it had been kept against its will in her, wanting only to be enjoyed. Her flavor was against the nature she put out, and the contrast was exquisite. “I don’t have all too many scars, as you’ll come to know.” He answered. “I don’t do this too often.” And then he took out his payment for his honesty, and went over to the other side of her torso, clasping his enamel around the ribs there, too. All the while a low song in his chest. If she ever tried to lift her head from where he’d let it hang, his hand would come up to her throat to keep her n place.

Hane didn’t know why there were tears down his cheeks, but he knew he loved Sugar. He wasn’t wise enough in all these red things yet to know she was playing with him. A mercy, courtesy for his manners. He gargled miserably when she continued to take from him, and with his mouth occupied with breathing and drooling, he couldn’t reciprocate in any other way than with his hips. His only saving grace, but it was spending itself too quickly. Still he sought it, and was as urgent as any lover. Maybe this was Sugar’s curse then, object of worship. He gasped when his own pleasure surprised him, but there wasn’t so much strength in him that he could accompany it with a more violent lancing. Instead his hands barely closed, loss of blood and expulsion of lust having stolen his vigor. He panted against her, eyes half way open or shut, heart as exhausted as his cut up skin.

Dae also suffered something new when he couldn’t drown himself in Poppy at this shallow play. He needed more, and he’d not needed anything for quite some time. It was easy to lift her again by her hips, her stomach run over with lines that bled from the sides he’d carved. An artifact, held up in the air. It wasn’t violent, but it was firm when he laid her down on the couch, back up. For some reason, with a light tug at her hair, her face would be toward Sugar again when he laid himself over her, and pulled her blouse down over her shoulders. Dae gasped at his desire, and bit into the back of her now served up shoulder blade. Maybe he’d thought it’d be another set of punctures to drink from, but the teeth closed too deep, and he was massaging that claimed piece between hot molars soon. Like Sugar liked to explain, he was of course also mingling this hunger with another, and Poppy’s skirt came up after the hidden zipper had been convinced. If there was a question in his head, may I, it was never spoken with his body, with a hand on her back to apply the pressure that would lift her hips into his. Foxes, when they are kings, can be quite furious, it seemed.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on July 05, 2017, 10:59:51 pm
Poppy was an aristocrat first and a lady second, because they had never been synonymous and she had never cared. So, they were something symphonic, instruments and musicians at once. She tried to sit up enough to look at him when he tested her ribs, and he denied her with one hand. It made her shudder, a short rush of her incredulous blood, but she could not help but gasp when she tasted his control. Nothing was ever really tamed without permission. She moved when he moved her and took the flattery when he gave it.

Sugar sighed. It was something to be jealous of, really, to be hungered for like that. She would have held some measure of resentment, if her own simpering partner wasn’t a reminder of her devoted following. She pressed in to Hane’s urgency and sounded satisfied when he had exerted himself. Of course, he’d ended up this way. Sugar didn’t need kings when she could have zealots. When he was too tired to protest, Sugar removed herself from him, letting him drape unceremoniously on the table. Bleeding and spent, he looked like a suitable meal for the old grandeur of the formal space. “Good Boy, Good Boy.” She muttered, and petted his hair lightly with just enough sincerity that her condescension still tasted sweet.

She scooped more of his draining liquid from the cavern she’d carved and then left him to hold onto the exhausted threads of his life. Sugar adjusted her clothes, as if that repair could undo the fresh bloodstains.

Poppy watched it all from the sofa, where her stomach pressed into the cushions and the sensation was raw like some dirty teenager in her neighbor’s basement. She didn’t fit this place and this place didn’t fit that aesthetic either. The jarring disconnect of it made Dae’s mouth around her scapula more poignant and she clenched her teeth against the radiating ache that spiraled down her nerves. She let him draw her hips toward him and the unapologetic outline of her own enthusiasm was in the way her thin underclothes clung to her body. It was ghastly that he’d take this much from her, but it only made her heart race. Poppy was adept at lusting for the things she should not have. An addict, already, to having her way at every turn.

“I suppose I don’t mind feeling special, then.” She said, and pressed herself against him as if it were the only place she ought to fit. If he hadn’t intended upon indulging further, Poppy made no pretenses about enticing him to more of her. She was not so experienced that she felt insincere, but she knew herself well enough to provoke him the way she wanted. She wriggled so that her shirt fell lower still, as if she were trying to save it from the dripping wound he’d imposed on her shoulder blade. The exposed muscle shifted over the protruding bone, lewd, as if she’d planned it.


Phaedra nodded numbly when Armand seemed willing. She swallowed hard. “I’ve only ever wanted to be his good friend.” She said, and it was true enough for now. She was stiff when he came closer still and squeezed her eyes shut. It felt very wrong and frightening, but she thought of Dion and thought she could make her peace. Her urgency came because she wanted to be done with this, both a betrayal and sacrifice to her Price Prince. “Okay,” she agreed after she had pressed her soft lips against his. There was a small scab there, rough where it should not have been, if he was paying close mind. More of Dion between them, but she was being very good to put her hands on him, one palm on his cheek and the other in his hair.

It bothered her how easy it was to slip into the pretend, but saw it as her heart’s dedication for comfort. It was, and Phae had never been truly anyone’s if not Dion’s, but she was also a girl who’d been shielded from desire. If Phaedra’s soul was unwilling to hope for anybody but Dionysus, her body would learn everything it needed to fulfill him. To please him and to shield him could be her pleasure, which meant Armand could take at least a small measure of sincerity. She hated that her pulse quickened, but it was her only bargaining chip with the older boy. It was indulging the worst sort of vice, the most vile and shameful thing she could imagine, but dirty things had their appeal. Their own Hunger, like shabby hotel rooms and lost virtue, and it was for her preservation and Dion’s that she understood she should not fight the awful of it.

Poppy had once told her she shouldn’t be so willing to sacrifice herself to ideals; they were very rarely what they seemed. Phaedra couldn’t remember that now, couldn’t think beyond her own capabilities and wonder if Dion might have wanted this a different way.     
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on July 06, 2017, 11:02:45 am
Control flickered back into Dae’s eyes. That dear thing, bolted in so it could go through any storm. It was dangerous, though, even for the staple practice inside the giant among animal masks; her haunting act, the blouse that slid for its mistress’s rolls. He put more of his weight on her when her body raised to meet his. That wound glistened, ruby slick, and his hand was on the elastic of her last article of modesty, peeling down just as he kissed the naked muscle on her back deeply. He’d not meant to fall this freely, but his stomach was wrathful for her, and his body had every intent. Beautiful woman, with all of the crimson secrets inside her, and the elegant veneer.

Dae cut at the skin framing what he’d already taken, and rewarded her little, willing lift with a paced but rude intrusion. Her skirt pocket made some sound, the way soundless things beckon. Caspian thinking of her, warning her about Armand’s mood, and telling her he loved her while the butcher lord of this city was with her. He’d spoken the message so gingerly, as Caspian does. Three times the screen lit through the fabric, and as many times it was forgotten.

Dae had not meant for this. Something close, maybe a challenge, some incinerating touches and well-worded idealism that sounded romantic – but never this far. And still, the king of his own hunger couldn’t imagine stopping on top of Poppy Price. Animal like his subjects, with the rough of his jaw on her skin, and the arches of his efforts to make striking lines of them both for Sugar’s discursion.

He had some fury in him then, tracing the jagged halo of the crater he’d made on her beautiful back, hips punishing hers in a similar melody as the drags of this tongue. She moved her shoulder to greet the tip of his slick, and was already holding herself in a way that he could drive her deeper into the cushions. The thought of it was enough, but to play inside it was almost too much. It shouldn’t be unusual that a king be decadent. And all the value he’d put in restraint wanted to collect now. No more bravado in denial, not more strength through none. He ate nose-deep in her flirting shoulder, his hand in her hair to keep her head where it was still, while pleasure hugged his lodged self. What a rough king that loved Poppy in that moment. What a great, iron scented piece of her he took when he lost to surges of radiating rapture.

As Daedalus rested his head to the back of hers, breathing in her perfumes, Hane died happily. It was a shallow affair with darkness before his pulse came back without any need for miracles. His hand moved though his lids wouldn’t lift. Fingers to Sugar’s thighs, a bid for more of her affection, something kinder perhaps, masked as a light pique. He could never have been the Price Prince.

“Look what you made me do.” Dae whispered, a warning voice, like he’d pounce and tear her to slivers, but in the most polite way. “You’re a difficult woman to teach, Ms. Price.” He said and laughed with a rumbling echo, low. “But I hope you have some sympathy for your brother now.” Strange to put Dion in the air while they were still connected in her. “Or do you need to know more about this Carnival?” so unrefined, Dae, but Poppy seemed to call out for the fox in him, rather.


She didn’t look at him like he wanted. He was about to complain when the usually quiet lips took his heart. It was a painful extraction, and he felt a line of hardness on her beautiful, gossiped-about mouth. It made him angry - the kind that stings your nose and gives you tears on your closed eyes – and he held her a bit longer than she’d intended. Ah, so Dionysus and his teeth had taken this from him, too. Maybe he should just hold her down and have her sweet protests now. Maybe if he tried, she would just stay quiet and suffer well – as Phaedra does – because she thought she was doing something good for the boy that wasn’t here but wouldn’t leave Armand alone.

But when her hands soothed him he was confused shortly, and then madly in love again. As it turned out, a loving Armand is ginger and he breathes softly on your face until he looks deeper in the kiss, and his hands mover over your arms and back to keep you very close. He saw hope rear itself, and he almost invited it in before he remembered where her courage had come from. He broke them up, and left his flavor and gentle in her mouth. “He’s made you a very good liar, Phae.” He said, disappointed but still soft-legged. He’d never wanted to be reduced to this, not when it wasn’t for something real. Wind in the tarp and it was too loud, like his ears were crumbling, song of his chest’s storm, before everything settled and only the issue of their transaction remained. There’d been no real purchase here, Dionysus had been sitting on his throne in their minds all through it, but Armand still wanted to trade.

“It was a start.” And even that was too generous. Start of his heart’s plummet, maybe. He pointed crassly to her skirt. “I won’t take back my offer, but you have to do more for me.” He said. “I would like a memento.” It was juvenile, but this trick had been taught to him by Dion himself. One of the debutants had been so moved to give him her lacework, and Dion had used it as a pocket square during a boys-only get-together where her boyfriend had been the host. The boy had turned pale with recognition when Dion let him hold it. Armand had idolized Dion for that, but he’d not be so subtle with Phae’s undergarment when she gave it. “It’ll be our contract.” He said, and hated to do this to her, but he hated Dion now too, and this was for that cause. Armand still thought he was being saintly, holy, for not trying to see exactly what her body would do today, to keep Dion from inconvenience.


Dion had very little awareness of all the things being done for or against him. He was just waking up from a fever dream he’d elicited. She had her upper arm gnawed and her eyes were starry in a way he was not foreign to. He was putting his legs back into his pants and frowning with the mouth he’d painted in her. “Was it everything you were looking for?” she asked, handing him the roll of bills back, now that she held some hope of a true connection.

Dion corrected his jacket and took the money back. Did this mean he was a whore for himself? He soured at the extra note of whatever paper she’d found in her sparse apartment. Her number, and with a smear of her life too. Creative lass. He shouldn’t be rude when she’d been so amorous and willing, but his mood was foul because her taste had been. All he could think of what his childhood friend in delicious pieces. He kissed Lise on her forehead, hand in her hair. “Nah. You were kinda rancid.” He whispered and threw her back into her own bed. When she sat with anger enough to make her wounds boil, he looked at her with the opposite temperature. It was enough to leave her sitting there as he slid into his outwear and left her. By the time he put his head back into his helmet most of the traces of Lise on his face were gone. This development was disconcerting.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on July 07, 2017, 11:32:40 pm
Sugar was leaned against the archway connecting the dining room to the space Dae’s couch occupied, close enough that it should be uncomfortable had she not been privy to all of it thus far. Instead, it was complimentary, perhaps, that she’d abandoned Hane and the bravado failing between his legs in favor of this view. Poppy did not make eye contact with the amber-eyed wolf, and it was only partially out of ill-conceived modesty. Mostly, it was a new and overwhelming rapture.

It was a pity that Caspian called her and was dutiful at such a time. Poppy wouldn’t have answered if she’d noticed the vibrations, and she surely hadn’t. If Poppy didn’t know Dae was serving her unusual privileges, but could guess at it, Dae must also not know that her sweet and unbidden vocalizations were a rarity too. But he must be able to guess it. She moaned even when she was hissing against the pain of his intrusions through her muscle. Happy to oblige, and selfish about it too, moving her hips with the intension of her own pleasure more than his.

“Hopefully you have some of your magic water, Fox King,” Sugar hummed, glancing back at Hane, though the comment was for Poppy’s benefit. She didn’t mind if Hane remained in shreds. She supposed Dae might feel differently about sending Poppy Price off with such a garish signature. “I’ll be going.” She said then, and sounded as if she might have been the slightest bit reluctant to leave the scene. Hane had not brought her to the release she supposed she was owed, and certainly she could have enjoyed the decadence of Daedalus on parade to satisfy herself. It seemed like a pitying thing to do, though, and Sugar preferred her place at the center of attention.

When she left, Poppy seemed to feel there was no further reason to play at decency. As if she were anything decent on that furniture. She was confident, even from that bowed position, in her ability to meet anything Dae thought to press into her. She had never suspected herself as so calculating, but it was clear she’d used Caspian to learn mutual delights with some fluency. If Poppy had not been in the presence of a king, she might have had the sense to feel a bit guilty.

“I have no reason to sympathize with my brother. If he’d had a measure of self-control, he might have spent himself on something better than skulking through your parties. He shouldn’t be so brash.” Poppy said, and it was only half convincing because she was panting through his punishments and finding both overwhelming. “I just want you to help me teach him that.” She sighed, and shivered, finding release without contentment at the end of it. She was more like her brother than she could possibly admit, if more discerning, and Dae had fanned a violent new spark.


Phae blinked at him without understanding, at first. She might have bedded Dion, but it said nothing for her knowledge of boyish indecency. “Momento?” she asked, and she was very much the girl Armand had idolized then. She blushed when she realized and could not look him in the eye. Audacity in such a delicate creature. Phaedra shimmied out of the thin fabric, and handed it to him in her balled up fist. She wanted to apologize, because she felt unclean for obliging the request, but held her tongue. How incredibly lewd that Armand should take the lasting evidence of Dion’s hold on her.

“Our contract.” She repeated, and did seem to take some comfort in that because she felt she’d secured some safety for Dion. Phae had never considered the possibility of other forms of torment, nor thought of herself as a pawn in it. It was this same aspect of her infuriating gentleness that prevented her from understanding Dion’s own frustration with all her well-intended offers. She tried to meet Armand’s eye then. “I’ll be counting on it. I don’t think… I don’t think I could ever have feelings for somebody who would hurt my closest friend.” She murmured. Because she couldn’t possibly live her fantasies now and call Dion anything else. She thought that was a bit unfair, but let the thin fabric drop into his hand.


Sugar was wandering off toward the Den of the evening then, intent on having some fun by her own terms and figuring the bus drivers would be unlikely to let her aboard bloody. There was a very practical chance she could swap clothes with some silly new girl in a stupor if she floated around one of Dae’s parties for long enough. She couldn’t help but cackle when she received the text from an indignant Lise a few moments later. The other girl didn’t even have to send her a name for Sugar to guess at who was on an ill-fated rampage. “The Price siblings strike again.” Sugar sang to herself and the evening air.

She sent a message to Dion, Deerest.

Did you already use up your pretty little bunny? It’d be a shame to gobble down a delicacy.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on July 08, 2017, 01:26:25 am
Dae found that he remembered Sugar's words rather than hear them. He was too occupied with the breathing things that now lived and gave from the gyre on Poppy's skin. He'd made it, and now he lost his tongue and teeth to it. Lower, she was being resourceful for her own sake, but it reverberated into him like pleasure, all the same. He could choose the angles, after all, and her part in their exchange was expertly executed. The king was a bit rougher with her when the pale guest left - seems they had the same idea - rough with his conventional intimacy, mostly, because his jaws were still tender, if that act could be. Teeth generally don't need to sign their importance in violence, since they are made for nothing else.

He didn't think of healing the pretty thing that had stood at the threshold on one of his bases this morning. She was best like this, colored the same heat as her heart and sharing this abandon with him. It made his throat furious without upsetting him. Still that melody of an angry animal every time he bit. It was quieter when they took their conclusion together, but it was farther strung, which made it darker. He thought of it then, the angel's water, when he carefully tended to the glistening patterns he'd opened on fine shoulder blades.

Still a bit of Fox or creature in him when he turned her, when they were done, skillfully keeping them joined to have her sit against him like before, so her naked sinew wouldn't touch the worn furniture. Gentleman beast. He thought there might have been something lacking in her conviction when she spoke last, which was only fair, since he'd been something he meant to swear off, with her. Dae examined her face with three fingers that were understandably painted. "Then we'll teach." he promised, because that meant she wasn't going to leave him alone. Perhaps this was her best way of inviting him to more of her life. This brother, maybe the King owed him for putting Poppy where she was.

"But first other things." he said.

Sugar had been right. It would seem Poppy took to the angel water better than most. How practical. Was it her will that made it so? It was too convenient that someone who held the hunger so far from herself would benefit so well from its fruits. Or maybe that was her talent. It was not a waste, Dae thought, because that built her so he might think to have her again. It was laughable that he'd feel that way, like he was in the beginning stages of crimson maturity instead of beyond it completely. If Poppy was an enemy, she was a well assembled one. But she'd not come for his demise.

"So you'll come to this kingdom." he meant the old office building, and he meant everything around it that was touched and inhabited by the hunger. "Where you and I tutor you brother in control." even when he's not with us. "And at the same time uphold your own world?" Of people who collect numbers so that they will never run out, lifetimes from now. It is tradition for formidable people to excel in all their fields, but he'd rather see her shed all things that didn't fit into the Carnival. He couldn't help but hope she'd be glorious, then. The cotton he applied the water with was spoiling the shrinking mar. Her spine was beautiful even when it wasn't a river. "I don't see it, Poppy Price." teasing, perhaps. "But you're welcome here whenever you come."

What quaint moment after their tight tumult. Just like animals go from one agenda to the next. He was happy she could match him, if she would. "So tell me of your other ambitions." that aren't about your brother, and drawing pleasure for yourself even when you're pinned. She knew of Dae's of course, which was to simply add another acceptable spectacle to this world by painting it in his color. And now this between them, whatever it would grow into. He smiled to himself when he lifted the dab from the center of the circles he'd drawn. She looked burnt by the sun, deeply red, almost peeled, but there was no blood left, and the even the color would fade into porcelain surface. Daedalus, he was, after all. Remarkable, how her body wanted her back. He'd deliberately neglected the little cut on her hand.


Armand stood there at last, hot cotton in his hand, and saw the inconsistencies in its color. She'd been so lovely producing them for him, and even better misunderstanding their fate. He held the gift tight and listened to her dream verbally of Dion again as he took the hand back, and hid it in his pocket before it came out empty. That single thing was now the most expensive thing he owned, because it had cost him a decent connection with his deepest crush, even if he'd argue that the Price bastard was to blame, and not his own decisions.

He would have lost limbs to know Phae's skirt was the only thing between her and the outer world, even now he wondered if he could charm her close so that kind of secret would be relevant, but he'd made it happen by tugging at her heart by relaying the strings. Now it was only a mouthwatering fact he could think of at the cost of his own light. "But you could now?" he asked, have feelings, and the hope on his meter wasn't acted, even if it had a separate purpose. Better she think he was still about honoring their terms while wishing for her favor. He wouldn't protest if she lost herself to him in an unguarded stretch of this endeavor. It might even be the quiet revenge and reward that would take him out of this course. But without that, he'd rather have Dion's suffering.

"I want to be your friend too." he said and went to her quickly, hugging her. It was easy, this new bond, because he could excuse all his weaknesses as a charade. She could spread her sympathy as she liked to, and he could bask in it without feeling he'd lost. All of this, and he still felt defeated before he'd fought. It was unforgivable, the world Dion was allowed to live in. "You have to understand this is all hard for me, accepting what I know, after all the things I've been taught growing up." it was a passable thing for someone to say if they were coming around to her view, wasn't it? Yet, all he really planned to do was torture the hungry for sport, and Dionysus for art. But Phaedra had to be innocent. He'd fight for that, too. "Will you forgive me for what I've done today? You always seem so full of forgiveness."

He wouldn't mind walking her out of the unfinished place, and be seen with her after he'd helped her with her collars, and put her hair back in place. The thing he'd planned, maybe he'd leave a few strands for the wind, so that the gossipers could see.


Dion had found an unlit road and was sure he was exactly in the middle of it, with only the bike and its heat as company at the roadside. It had been idyllic for a few hours ago, but now it was turning sinister, like the oldest trap by the oldest ghosts. It was fitting, the way he felt. Sugar's signal lit up the gloom that was barely touched by city expansion. He looked at the screen and was reminded of how everything was disgusting if it didn't have a certain someone's aroma.

Fuck off you filthy ragdoll of a whor_

He smiled to himself instead of finishing and sending the abuse off. This was Dulcinea, delicacy of the underworld. This was Sugar, the belle of fucking red ball. He wiped his lower lip of frustration and sat up straighter in the grass.

She was alright. How are you? Feeling we should meet again. I'll be more fun. We're friends now, aren't we?

He did send that off, instead. He found himself linked to Sugar more than he'd care to admit. But she was very close to the cleanest connection he had to this new vault of sensations. Not a bridge, not entirely, but a rail along the way. With tetanus in its rust and poison in its edges. Tonight he would try to see if she was any good as a bandage for this new thing that hurt him. He remembered her flavor, and it should be just the medicine for the abominable state of his palled.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on July 11, 2017, 05:38:45 am
Poppy was profoundly aware of her body when they were alone. Certainly, the deeper caverns Dae’s teeth were digging insisted upon it. Languid in their aftermath, which was jarringly intimate. It was a wonder she did not blush when he turned her. But Poppy was not ashamed and she did not believe anyone was out of her reach. She would not be starry-eyed, which was a peculiar and lovely sort of agency. It was a bit crude that they contemplated her brother’s future, still clasped so near and wearing the drying stiffness of their voracious explorations.

“You and I don’t speak the same language out of convenience, don’t we?” she hummed, taking the liberty of nipping at his lip. Had his mouth been unbloodied, it might have been the affection of a familiar lover. “My brother needs discipline, not temptation. Do you suppose we teach the same way?” Poppy sighed. “But I think you’re right, I should learn more if I’m going to be fair.” She did fancy herself a fair and just ruler; Poppy would have been horrified if she knew the way her tiny kingdom was slipping. Dion to a frantic addiction and Phaedra to the plummet of deception. And she, herself, had taken interest in a king.

Caspian did not come to mind. Later, she might glance through her phone history and put aside whatever guilt formed for the next day. Poppy had never cared less for the ramifications of her actions than she seemed to now. If she’d had her brother’s abandon, she would have been a force of nature.

She didn’t understand what he poured over her back, or why the ache of what he’d taken subsided so quickly. Poppy reached to run her fingers over her own shoulder blades, and her lips parted with an unvoiced question. A cure like this could revolutionize the world. Dae could be an icon, a billionaire. Still, she didn’t ask. As if she’d cared about offending him before. It felt contrary to his spell to pry into the sources of his wily tricks. Instead, she smiled gratefully and rummaged for her blouse.

“You’re an interesting man, Daedalus the Fox King.” She ran her thumb over the cut he’d left on her hand. “I’m sure you’ll see me again. We’ve not concluded our negotiations anyhow, it seems.” She said, and it was both true and a testament to her insistence on having her way, regardless the distraction. Poppy tucked a few strands of her dark hair behind her ear. “I hope we’ll reach a fully satisfactory understanding, eventually.” She said, and it was hard to convince herself she was thinking of Dion still.


Phaedra tried to return Armand’s embrace, but it was still stiff. It was the sort of reaction that suited her, shy and unacquainted with forward affection, but lingered like a slap in the face when she’d bared herself so eagerly to Dion. It was a peculiar and cruel duality that she nearly recognized in herself, but Armand’s transgressions outweighed her own to a heart so thoroughly  given to the Price prince.

“I can’t forgive you yet,” she said honestly. It wasn’t a threat, because Phaedra didn’t have it in her to threaten, but it was a tart sort of promise. She didn’t trust the boy that had threatened her love, but she was willing to play this bargain. She had been deceived, but she wasn’t as gullible as she’d been even a day before. Dion had shown her his teeth, which meant every other man must be less innocent. “But I’ll try to understand, the same way you’re trying to understand.” She said. It was too polite, but she kissed his cheek chastely and it seemed appropriately sincere. Her honesty would be her downfall, one way or another.


Sugar smirked at Dion’s reply. Cocky bastard, as usual. She could only assume the little rabbit had survived the ordeal, or Dion was a more heartless creature than she’d imagined.

We’re friends now? Aren’t I special. I can be wherever there’s more fun.

But she’d wanted his ego, she supposed. She’d gone looking for it. She touched her sleeve where Hane had left a red mark. Surely Dion would be more exciting than that boy, at least. The address she was sent took her to the city apartment Dion had whisked Phae to the night before. She arrived before he did, and it was some curious serendipity that she had already been so near. Sugar wondered if she should tell Deerest his sister was entertaining a Fox just three blocks away. It was almost laughable, the fall of the Price children. She sat by the door, chin propped on one knee, and stared up at Dion through her pale lashes when he arrived.

“What, pray tell, is the definition of fun to a spoiled brat like you?” she asked. 
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: Verse on July 11, 2017, 09:48:24 am
Dae didn’t know Poppy too well, and he took care to be careful not to paint her in colors he preferred. Still, there was something in him that understood she would be endlessly more of an adversary if she was not enjoying herself, just a little. The thrumming aura and its escapees, he could read, at least, and she had a bustling sort, like the hardest crystal formations in nature, but with inherent, growing cracks. Daedalus believed in the hunger. So he’d be an indulgent father then, when they lead her brother, while she would be her stern, unforgiving self. He looked forward to this dynamic. Especially to Poppy’s idea of fair.

She was lovely when she wondered about the elixir. What would happen when Poppy discovered the myriad of miracles that ran through some of the bloodied bloodlines? His angel of salts was of course a favorite of his. A neat party trick. He did not think that Poppy had thoughts of industrial expansion. Today the Fox was more romantic than the princess.

It had not been a wasted day, or wasted skin, the way Poppy went on. He’d get more meetings with her, and he’d bought the boy she tried to control a little more time in the parlors he provided. “I am always available to negotiate, Poppy Price.” He said and helped her on with her blouse over the red mark. How tender they were. He would liken it to grooming a wild tigress in a good mood. Of course, being mauled was never his greatest fear, but then, animals knew better of the carnival. He reached to touch her temple and then treated himself to a long stroke of his palm down her cheek. They bit, they’d kissed, and he thought this caress was the most affectionate he’d been with her. With anyone. He looked at the mark he’d saved, and hoped he’d see some of it next time too, on her hand. It’d be fortunate for her if she was a fast healer, but what a waste.

They were leaving just as two came in with buckets of the potion that had shut her wound. The first scoop woke Hane up, and then they started bathing him. There was confusion in his eyes and a name on his groans. Dae smiled.

Well in the car, after he’d opened the door for her, and sat down close, he took her phone. “This song.” He said as he put it in her musical inventory. “When a venue plays it, I am likely to be close.” Even for some time after. It wasn’t available for purchase, and perhaps that was a good thing, since the hungry knew it from the depths of their free activities, and it would trigger a palpable desire to be themselves. He patted Danny’s shoulder from behind. “This good man will know where it’s played and when.” And that was how much Dae cared for Poppy, to fold this provider into it all, too.

Danny would know to take them back where they’d come from. Dae didn’t suppose Poppy would like to be seen with the likes of himself too close to her glass and concrete court. He had confidence enough in their bond to lean in as Danny turned out to the road, to lean in close and whisper with predatory breath and lover’s lilt “We mustn’t be done anytime soon, Poppy Price. I’ve not nearly had enough of you.”

How scandalous, King.


Armand would have found the hug sweet, his shy little idol, tensing for even this much, little walls for him to tear down so she would eventually be softer around him, only him. But she’d already been all that and more with Dionysus. Marks on her body, marks on her underwear. He held her tighter and it was to punish her, but he let go before the vice of his embrace could get to her lungs. Still, frustration was spoken loudly for a small instance against her.

He’d meant to show himself as patient man when he asked for forgiveness. The sentiment itself should stand as proof, not as the question it posed as. And she only heard it as it had been presented, of course. It made him want to rap her on her cheek. She’d respond beautifully, he was sure. But he made no such motion, and nodded slowly. “I hope you will understand.” Even if I have every right to your forgiveness. He even though her adorations wouldn’t be out of place. Armand was more fitting for her than Dion, and she should see that too. Who dreams of a brute like that? Arman missed that it was his own appeal with his dalliances so far. How many had put green eyes on him when he didn’t know, though?

He did take the peck, and sighed at the carefulness of it. It satisfied for a little while, and then frustration burnt brighter. With some efficiency he corrected her clothes. Armand knew perfectly how to set them in place, how Phaedra usually looked. How she should look. He decided on their exit. She had no choice in the matter. He’d not leave without her and she wasn’t allowed to go before him. If she wouldn’t take his hand that would be alright, but he would lead her out of the tarp. She’d armed him with knowledge, and something that would serve as a powerful message for Dion. Maybe he’d steal some moment alone with the rumpled treasure, too. Ah, what a rush it was to have her by his side in the open, knowing a gust of wind could reveal her to the world. Little Phae, who was still who she’d always been to him, but somehow closer now.


He had stood outside, balancing the bike and looking up at the apartment. Fateful place. Maybe this could be a good refuge, if he could afford the fuel. The summer house was a compendium of ghosts, anyway. Ah, but he needed the sea, the way he felt. For something to ruthless, it wasn’t bloody very often. He went up eventually, his adventures of today clinging to him and making him a formidable silhouette in the limited neon spill through the windows in the corridor. In the end he stood over her, helmet hanging in his fingers. She looked pretty like that, a head on a leg.

“I’m of modest tastes. I like my fun motherless.” He said, and the helmet fell to make a sound in their privacy. He lifted her with some of the violence he wanted her to have for what she’d taken from Phae. But he didn’t hold her to the door all too harshly. He made sure she had her legs around him, whether he had to tie them with meaning hands or simply push his stomach to her crotch while he took off his riding gloves. “Let’s stay in. Food’s good inside.” He said as he kept her in place with his pressure, one hand hanging for the aesthetic, and the other unlocking with a silver song.

He took her chin and turned her head in different directions, fingers teasing with bruising intrusion. He had darkness in his intention. He should really just have her here, but he was afraid that even Sugar might be rank inside. What hope did Phaedra have then? The door would open and he would push her in. Locking a door with its latches from the inside is useless for keeping someone trapped, but it makes for a good announcement. He took his jacket off and wiped his chin, a gesture of frustration, challenge.

“Take off your clothes please. Don’t worry about cleaning yourself up, I’m not too fond of this interior.” Because it wouldn’t be Dionysus Price if there wasn’t a bit of hubris. It was his way of asking, wasn’t it? He had his shirt off soon. It had worked wonders with Phaedra. He didn’t suppose Sugar would play that role very well here, even if she stood on Phae’s places. “Can I fuck you up a little, Dulcinea?” romantic, in the dark. And nice too, how it had been expressed as a question. This was not Hane.
Title: Re: Rush Revel
Post by: VenomousEve on July 13, 2017, 06:03:24 am
Danny didn’t say much, but went along with the things Dae asked for because it was courtesy. A small syndicate flattering the mob. He had come back because Agnes had been a short distraction for Dion. Glancing in the rearview mirror at Poppy, he thought the twins were diving into a world they didn’t know with an absurd confidence. It suited the Price children though, Danny just didn’t know it.

Poppy listened to the song carefully, as if she was concerned she might not recognize it again. It was endearing, the way girls her age ought to be endearing, and very different from the woman who’d writhed on that vintage couch. She seemed reticent for the meeting to end, when they got out of the car. “I’ll be seeing you around,” she said to Danny as she stepped out. Because you know where I can find this Fox when I want him. A careful smile. Danny waved her off. Another soul sucked into this ridiculous and bloody labyrinth. She seemed more present than most, though. More present than her brother, even. Danny thought it might be good for her, if she intended to dance with the King. He wanted to tell her she should think carefully, but the set of her shoulders told him it wouldn’t matter. Danny nodded at Dae before he drove off, and then the old car sputtered off down the road.

“I know. I think you won’t have to worry.” She said to Dae, leaning in as if to meet his inclination. Poppy was close enough that her lashes brushed his face, a parting touch, and then she stood a bit straighter and shrugged. It was something of a jest then. “I haven’t reached a satisfactory conclusion with you anyhow, Mister Fox King.” She said reasonably. Because he’d been more than satisfactory but it hadn’t been enough. A little of his beloved Hunger winked in her green eyes and she wiped her lips neatly with the back of her hand, where he’d left his little red signature. She waved over her shoulder when she turned to go.

“Thank you for seeing me. I’m encouraged that we both care a good deal about my darling brother’s fate.” She said as she left. Puppet strings had always been an aphrodisiac for the elder Price sibling, and she was intrigued to have met another puppeteer with a different tune. It put a pretty sway in her walk, and she was very aware of Dae’s gaze until she disappeared into the back of a taxi cab, fingers brushing the place where her button was missing on her blouse.


Phaedra felt dizzy and nauseous when she allowed Armand to lead her from the half-finished library. She didn’t know what to do as a more keen awareness of her situation settled over her in this brief aftermath. If she hadn’t yet come to understand the gravity of her place in Dion’s story, she did see the formidable future stretching before her. Armand, who had her in his grasp more than she had him in hers, and Dion, who loved her loosely. She was desperate to see Dion again, so that he could remove the linger of Armand’s touch, his ambitious gaze, from her skin. Perhaps, also, he could reconstruct the fantasy that had propelled her this far.

When Phae awkwardly waved goodbye and watched Armand go, she understood a small amount of Dion’s violent potential. She hadn’t had an application for it before, allowing it morph and twist into a more palatable, carnal desire. Now, as she stared at Armand’s back—he was a handsome boy—she wondered if Dion might beat him bloody for the sake of her honor, strip the skin from his bones with his carnivore teeth. She touched her chest, over her heart, and turned away. She wondered if she had found her way here on her own. She could not find an answer that did not frighten her.


Sugar bit her tongue when he pulled her up, jolting motion, and tasted her own blood. It was sweet, and she grinned, red on her teeth. She hooked her legs around his waist without need for much persuasion. “You’re in luck, I suppose.” She hummed, leaning her head back against the door so that she was staring up at the ceiling with her blood orange eyes. She felt the door move behind her, and she and Deerest with it. His hand on her chin was a familiar sentiment with a different flavor. The door swung open fully and the wood floor was harsh on her back when he pushed her in. It made her laugh.

“What are you so frustrated over, Deer?” she asked, propping herself up on her elbows. “Unsatisfied? I know the feeling.” She tossed a cropped lock of blonde hair out of her face. Her eyes were sparkling. There were a lot of forms of worship. She’d learned that much today, watching the King and his new priestess. It made her smile wider. Dion, Deerest, Dulcinea’s been with your Phaedra and entertained your sister.

She sighed when he retreated into his familiar ego and inclined her head. “You can try, I suppose.” Sharp teeth. He’d be sharing too, certainly. He’d tossed her to the ground and yet she was staring up at him like she’d intended to be there all along, stalking the low shadows. She pursed her lips. “I’m not your little rabbit though. Don’t insult me by hoping.” Sugar said. “Or her.” And it was true that Dion had been unfair to loyal Phae, to believe he could find a substitute.

She picked herself off the floor and twirled on one heel, shedding her skirt as she did. It became a mocking sort of tease, pale skin a harsh contrast in the dim apartment. It suited her. Sugar had certainly never entertained the idea of worrying for his furniture, her clothes scattering. “She asked me to help her, you know. I feel like I should be giving you more trouble.”