#)•( jasim + genevieve )•(

[mossofteeth]

It had been a quiet night. Peaceful, even. Genevieve lazed on the surface of Lake Nimue, her tail glittering gold in the moonlight. She’d been practicing a trick for the last four hours before she had to take a break. The night before, quite by accident, she had managed to turn the thick humidity into a dense fog that surrounded her like an impenetrable cloud. She had been so proud, so excited to feel the energy flow through her body, like a rush of cold water.

It seemed as if tonight wasn’t going to grant her the same luck, so she chose to relax her tired mind and soak up the energy from the moon. The gentle waves lapped against her body, comforting her as her eyes drooped, heavy with sleep. She was almost under when the slightest vibration rippled against the water. Her eyes shot open, pupils narrowing into thin slits before she slipped underneath the dark water.

She shot through the darkness, darting around plants and hiding within the thick grasses at the edge of the lake. She remained frozen, her curls blending in with the thick grass as they waved along, a perfect camouflage. The space to her right shifted, prompting her to dart back a few feet. Her eyes, now glowing a deep yellow, take in frantic movement in front of her. Her body froze once more, every nerve ending feeling like a live wire, urging her to capture and kill. There was a brief shock of fear at the new, primal urge, but she had no time to analyze why it was happening.

She was a rush of gold and curl, rocketing through the water towards the thrashing body, colliding into it like a cannon ball busting through a brick wall. She had misjudged her speed, causing the tangle of the two of them to tumble out from the water and onto the ground. Strings of saliva dripped from her mouth, frenzied eyes darting around the stranger’s shirtless torso, searching for the answer to quell this incessant, burning need. The stranger writhed underneath her, strangled screams turning into gargled moans as she digs her sharp claws into the center of his chest. A deep crack ricochets through the still night air as she breaks open the stranger’s rib cage. She looks down, saliva dripping into the open chest cavity below her. A growl rumbled through her chest before she dove in, face first, moaning at the warmth on her cheeks, mouth, and hands.

@velvetpill

[mossofteeth]

Snakes of blood-soaked curl fall over her face as she raises her head. Her yellow gaze finds a figure stepping forward amongst the shadows. A low growl rumbles through her chest, razored claws of bone digging into the flesh of the body below her, the squelching a musical reminder that this kill was hers.

The wind shifted, allowing Genevieve to catch a whiff of a familiar scent. She blinks, yellow gaze flickering in the night like junebugs in the summertime. Curious, she pulls herself forward, her chest and torso sliding through the carnage. The moment the tip of her tail slips from the water’s edge, she froze. Sharp eyes turn pained as her scales begin to pull back into her skin and her tail splits apart with a series of snaps. The grind of her bones reforming reverberates through her body, leaving her panting.

She takes a deep breath, having done this enough times to know what comes next. As her gills close, she holds for four seconds, exhaling out through her mouth, holding once more, and inhaling deeply through her nose. After a few more rotations, she’s breathing like a normal human again. She takes another deep, well-practiced breath before she lets out a loud, guttural moan. The muscles in her legs twist into place as the moan raises in pitch, a tortured crescendo into a shattered wail pierces the night.

Unable to support herself any longer, her arms fold underneath her and she drops to the ground. The Murk inside her soul refused to retreat, winding its dark tendrils around her heart. She rests for a moment, allowing her trembling body to calm and taking a mental assessment of her pain.

Legs. Mouth. Head.

Her legs burn as she slides backwards over the corpse underneath her. Her scales had left raw skin exposed, flames licking at the wounds as the wind blew against them. She moves to straddle the body, wincing to herself as her muscles protest. Her true eyes, now dark and speckled with a spatter of yellow, peer into the darkness. She dips her hand into the pooled blood before bringing her fingers up to her mouth and sucking on them with a moan. “You weren’t s’posed to see that, Jasim.” She speaks, voice both hers and not hers, an eerie high pitched tone with the power of the Old Gods.

                   ⊱ blood. it always ties back to blood for him, in every circumstance of his infernal life. there's this part of him that fears it will never cease, the way he looks and smells and aches for it without conscious thought. always an esurient hunter, even when he doesn't want to be.

                   it feels almost cartoonish, really, as if he's following the scent of pie to a windowsill; luring him in, forcing his movements. admittedly, he had been following this fearful victim prior to their spilled blood, but now—now the choice is taken from him. those lanky legs quick and agile in the way he wanders through the forest and all of its greenery, shades of nature reflected and visible by aid of moonlight.

                   the sight that greets him at the end of his path is outright jarring.

                   it's not what he could've ever even imagined of genevieve, to find the woman—the chimera, he swiftly reminds himself—covered in viscera. this unfortunate stranger beneath her, helpless and no match to magnificent myth.

                   as if to prevent his own suffering of a similar fate, jasim slows his movements. he's mindful and quiet, though not entirely noiseless. the soft crunch of leaves beneath his feet to warn of his presence, the careful deep breath from his nostrils, in the hopes he could clear the ferric scent invading his senses.

                   when he takes another step forward, it's tentative. all of these silent reminders that he's no threat, no harm would come to her for this, however he says nothing still. there is little he could say at this second. ⊰

[velvetpill]

                   ⊱ jasim is a man of many words... except now.

                   it is wise—decidedly rare for his decisions—to take the approach of not speaking until he is spoken to. truly, it's amazing what fear can do to a person, let alone a bloodthirsty vampire who would otherwise try to steal and claim this carnage to sate his own hunger. he's done it in the past, with no qualms and certainly no morals. a shameless thief as much as he is a cold murderer.

                   he's not so confident nor bold in this moment, even with pungent metallic invading his senses. dizzying, alluring, and nearly enough to make him forget the myth turned woman atop the bloodshed. survival skills keep him frozen in place.

                   it is unlike anything he has ever known or seen, even with his brief brushes with shapeshifters in the past. this... well, this is entirely different, those bambi eyes wider than ever. even he can't help but wince, be it from the painful transformation itself or the noises it tears from genevieve's throat.

                   still, he commits the sight to memory, as if it may be the last time he sees it—as if it might be the last thing he witnesses, point blank. he only releases the breath he doesn't need once it occurs to him that he is not, currently, registered as a threat in her mind. relief, albeit in a small amount.

                   her voice shocks and silences him further, sends a shiver down his spine. it takes him a handful of pauses to string together words, though nothing tumbles out at first except for a veritably pathetic, ❝ it's... it's okay. ❞ it's okay? now, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?

                   he shakes his head. try again, dumbass.

                   ❝ are you okay? ❞ better, however not by much. it's a start, though, isn't it? a way to gauge where she's at mentally. what he can do to help, if anything at all, other than stay out of her way. ⊰

Snakes of blood-soaked curl fall over her face as she raises her head. Her yellow gaze finds a figure stepping forward amongst the shadows. A low growl rumbles through her chest, razored claws of bone digging into the flesh of the body below her, the squelching a musical reminder that this kill was hers.

The wind shifted, allowing Genevieve to catch a whiff of a familiar scent. She blinks, yellow gaze flickering in the night like junebugs in the summertime. Curious, she pulls herself forward, her chest and torso sliding through the carnage. The moment the tip of her tail slips from the water’s edge, she froze. Sharp eyes turn pained as her scales begin to pull back into her skin and her tail splits apart with a series of snaps. The grind of her bones reforming reverberates through her body, leaving her panting.

She takes a deep breath, having done this enough times to know what comes next. As her gills close, she holds for four seconds, exhaling out through her mouth, holding once more, and inhaling deeply through her nose. After a few more rotations, she’s breathing like a normal human again. She takes another deep, well-practiced breath before she lets out a loud, guttural moan. The muscles in her legs twist into place as the moan raises in pitch, a tortured crescendo into a shattered wail pierces the night.

Unable to support herself any longer, her arms fold underneath her and she drops to the ground. The Murk inside her soul refused to retreat, winding its dark tendrils around her heart. She rests for a moment, allowing her trembling body to calm and taking a mental assessment of her pain.

Legs. Mouth. Head.

Her legs burn as she slides backwards over the corpse underneath her. Her scales had left raw skin exposed, flames licking at the wounds as the wind blew against them. She moves to straddle the body, wincing to herself as her muscles protest. Her true eyes, now dark and speckled with a spatter of yellow, peer into the darkness. She dips her hand into the pooled blood before bringing her fingers up to her mouth and sucking on them with a moan. “You weren’t s’posed to see that, Jasim.” She speaks, voice both hers and not hers, an eerie high pitched tone with the power of the Old Gods.

[velvetpill]

                   ⊱ blood. it always ties back to blood for him, in every circumstance of his infernal life. there's this part of him that fears it will never cease, the way he looks and smells and aches for it without conscious thought. always an esurient hunter, even when he doesn't want to be.

                   it feels almost cartoonish, really, as if he's following the scent of pie to a windowsill; luring him in, forcing his movements. admittedly, he had been following this fearful victim prior to their spilled blood, but now—now the choice is taken from him. those lanky legs quick and agile in the way he wanders through the forest and all of its greenery, shades of nature reflected and visible by aid of moonlight.

                   the sight that greets him at the end of his path is outright jarring.

                   it's not what he could've ever even imagined of genevieve, to find the woman—the chimera, he swiftly reminds himself—covered in viscera. this unfortunate stranger beneath her, helpless and no match to magnificent myth.

                   as if to prevent his own suffering of a similar fate, jasim slows his movements. he's mindful and quiet, though not entirely noiseless. the soft crunch of leaves beneath his feet to warn of his presence, the careful deep breath from his nostrils, in the hopes he could clear the ferric scent invading his senses.

                   when he takes another step forward, it's tentative. all of these silent reminders that he's no threat, no harm would come to her for this, however he says nothing still. there is little he could say at this second. ⊰

It had been a quiet night. Peaceful, even. Genevieve lazed on the surface of Lake Nimue, her tail glittering gold in the moonlight. She’d been practicing a trick for the last four hours before she had to take a break. The night before, quite by accident, she had managed to turn the thick humidity into a dense fog that surrounded her like an impenetrable cloud. She had been so proud, so excited to feel the energy flow through her body, like a rush of cold water.

It seemed as if tonight wasn’t going to grant her the same luck, so she chose to relax her tired mind and soak up the energy from the moon. The gentle waves lapped against her body, comforting her as her eyes drooped, heavy with sleep. She was almost under when the slightest vibration rippled against the water. Her eyes shot open, pupils narrowing into thin slits before she slipped underneath the dark water.

She shot through the darkness, darting around plants and hiding within the thick grasses at the edge of the lake. She remained frozen, her curls blending in with the thick grass as they waved along, a perfect camouflage. The space to her right shifted, prompting her to dart back a few feet. Her eyes, now glowing a deep yellow, take in frantic movement in front of her. Her body froze once more, every nerve ending feeling like a live wire, urging her to capture and kill. There was a brief shock of fear at the new, primal urge, but she had no time to analyze why it was happening.

She was a rush of gold and curl, rocketing through the water towards the thrashing body, colliding into it like a cannon ball busting through a brick wall. She had misjudged her speed, causing the tangle of the two of them to tumble out from the water and onto the ground. Strings of saliva dripped from her mouth, frenzied eyes darting around the stranger’s shirtless torso, searching for the answer to quell this incessant, burning need. The stranger writhed underneath her, strangled screams turning into gargled moans as she digs her sharp claws into the center of his chest. A deep crack ricochets through the still night air as she breaks open the stranger’s rib cage. She looks down, saliva dripping into the open chest cavity below her. A growl rumbled through her chest before she dove in, face first, moaning at the warmth on her cheeks, mouth, and hands.

@velvetpill