love in the time of chasmosaurs / ven

[EXODUS--]

[div style="width: 200px; overflow: auto; width: overflow: auto; font-family: timesnewroman; text-align: justify; max-height: 400px; "]Gilded sunlight swam through the trees.

Exodus was unconsciously mussing circles into the feathered skin of the being closest to her with lethal claws gentled to the task at hand, parting the quills of feathers like a sea. As if she could rub the comfort into the boundaries of her sibling's skin.

Morning phlegm clung to her throat with the resin that made itself known with the rising sun.

The raptor inhales generously to clear her choked throat, and returns with loving sneezes. Her wrinkled snout, skin displaced from the flex of her muscles at the abrupt force of a sniffle.

Deval is fuzzy. Where she is touching, his sable feathers are the softest. The bristules are light and dusty. Sparse. Sappiness sits heavy in tender sleep-cracked limbs, a deep aching thrum as she gently brushes sleep away from the fringes of heavy eyelids.

Pillowy and velvet like cotton that she would never want to depart from, is the only way she could describe the body ticked beneath her chin like a pillow, her own tail tangled over their frame like a limp banner. And if she listens hard enough, she can hear their treasured heart beating the tender, wild litany of life within. Life that she would protect to the ends of eternity.

It was odd for a beast such as herself to be so vulnerable. So loving and careful. She was fire and rage with the day's tide, but whenever the predator was surrounded with her family, peace flooded her veins and made itself a home with the hollow in her chest. But who could blame her? For within Exodus's tiny little world, family was everything.

Exodus is traced with sleep's achingly slow touch that buzzes throughout and breathes playfully against her spine. Lazy, lethargically basking in the glow of her siblings. She has all the time in the world for the world for them.

She shifts her head across the expanse of a plump side belly.

She savors their company, bone deep. Needed her family like soft sunlight and unhurried contact. Chases the friction between the ones she is so dependant upon.

The first thing Exodus notices about her younger brother is that he is pudgy, soft and warm down in all the right places.

In short, she was just really taking full advantage of her brother's cushiony grace.

She, Exodus, is unabashedly substituting her brother for a pillow of flesh and feather and skin where she can feel the grooves and bumps beneath.

Softly, slowly comes the creep of an urge, sharp like the lick of a whip, lashes through her hind brain. An itch she can't shake. Upon it, she reaches out to nibble on a primary feather of the other-- a thing of compulsion, as she has always been driven by. Compulsion. It's a wonderful thing, because it speaks softly to her and aside from Virgo's commanding chirp and Luciferus's sonorous, loving rumble, it is the one thing she trusts and relies upon much like breathing.

[member=2707]DEVAL.[/member] [member=1827]AMENT .[/member] [member=232]LUCIFER GRIMM.[/member]

[align=right][glow=black,2,300]You got to see the artistry
In tearing the place apart with me, baby ★[/glow]

[Grimm]

[align=center][div style="max-width: 340px; line-height:120%; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; margin-bottom:5px"]Barbaric things, renewed life within place of others where temperament proves gentler, the structure of bone caught beneath sinew and muscle carved with only want. Ancient are they, predators suited to lands clustered and wild, within their own way gods – but what was such to they, deemed feral though the minds within structure of bone ticked, working through the complicated matter of emotion as did any other. So makes this, exchange within the wake of slumber tinged with edge of affection, warmth within bones thought to carry only instinct, almost an oddity for those who cast outsiders eyes upon it all.

About them light and shadow are cast within a play, dancing and swaying about them, one given the crown of victor before hints of it had risen, the depth of night merely waiting to depart. Heavy is the weight about frame, given less time upon the lattice of stone and soil, touched with inexperience of much, yet grown dense with what there was. Upon skin decorated in plumage, downy fuzz about soft belly though thick had grown some, quills mussed within slumber touched with the darkness of night, shades of brown giving way to the grey and blue of age, written was the hunger. Insatiable was it, this heat curling within gullet that sought the copper of blood, the feeling of it pooling in throat before it was permitted further, heavy, warm weight within stomach grown heavy with excess weight.

Yet here there proved other reasons for such, soft beneath wandering claws. It mattered not the points upon them, tracing along the thin casing of downy fuzz, following the swell of belly. Tender touch, light was it works across skin.

Few permitted, given leave to bare witness to such things, the careful within each movement for within was the gentle brush of affection rather then the sparking heat of fire. Better might it have been this way, allowing these moments to hang between them, when mind was working through the last traces of slumber and revealing in the warmth of others, press of body close enough to feel each breath as the lungs took them in. It mattered not the notion of predator, ancient beast time had permitted a second chance, or may it have been a mere stroke of idiocy within a single moment, these moments enough.

Inhale, sharp as it works into lungs, expanding with it until – gust of heat, this too sharp though it bore no signs of being done with thought. Grumbled sound, flex of claws curling as though seeking to grasp yet there is nought but air. Shift of weight atop his own, slighter though the press of it against him is welcome, warmth where feather lined skin is permitted to touch. Familiar is this, press upon side and belly, the rise of another chest against him the slow beat of the heart contained within, a wild thing slowed in those moments of tender peace.

Drawn of head across stomach, snout rubbing along where feather is most sparse. The huff rising from nostrils is tinged with sound, contented rumble caught in the back of throat, raising in pitch until it finds it limit, a climax though still the sound is soft. Once more it lowers, finds an end though it breaks apart, faint string of a purr drawn forth upon its conclusion. Slow is the lift of dark lids, the eyes they bare to the world blurred and vision comes slowly, darkness about edges. Twisting of body, weight shifting though never to dislodge, rather the gaze finds the one responsible for such contact.

Brush of teeth, gentle on edge of feather, richest within colour though still far from what will adorn the best, nibbling along the barbs. Dark the eyes that watch such movement, the slight lift of lips accompanied by the gentle rumble of a purr, a sound never meant to convey anger, rather he is content to simply permit her this. Head curls around, seeks the space between where neck and body have come to join, teeth brushing as he takes to gently pulling the feathers about the hollow of throat.

[Luciferr]

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L U C I F E R . G R I M M

"The endless Void, The gazing abyss, The bottomless ocean of horror...It coiled itself around your tender heart"

dappling light casts against a shadow so deep and consuming that its absorbed across it like the huge silhouette is a footprint in the world - an absence where the eye can't seem to find an edge - and only broken where the sudden livid red cracks, splinters and shatters its way across half a slumbering face - etched in a perpetual grin-snarl of dread-fear with a perpetual staring iris that burns and never closes.

the scar is an aberration against a perfect dark - one that seldom lies still enough to catch sleep, afear to wake others with what might come crawling from the realms of dream, vision and memory - he does not fear facing his own demons, but he fears the others facing them, for all and sundry does a god poisoned by half a lineage hold its reigns firmly in his grasp - he will know no peace unless half his ancestry no longer dances along his thoughts.

rare is the peace he knows - and as Lucifer lies in a half slumber, his attention is pinned to this small family he has.

he's thankful for them - all of them, these four here and those still out there - thankful for these rare respites and time granted with them, where all he worries after is making sure they're well fed and aren't causing too much trouble.

its a far cry from having to choose who lives and who dies in swaths on the many endless battlefields this weary deity has presided over - even if he misses those he knew from them, he does not miss the misery of endless war.

he hums quietly, watching Exodus and Deval shift around slightly in their pre-awaking thoughts, trying to stay below the veil of sleep or succumbing to simply huddling, too lethargic to leave such comforts - he can agree with the sentiment even as a fond smile tilts the half of his face not ravaged by the void.

he is content to linger in the now of peace, watching his adopted children cuddling together against him.

DRAGON [10FT Hght, 25FT Lgth] — HELLION [5FT] — TYPHOON / OFFICER — PLAYLIST — TAGS

© LEXASPERATED