#abalisk writes

Her soft, plaintive moan dashed away all melancholic thought and had him briefly tightening his hold around her middle, an attempt to reassure and settle her. His broad hand splayed under the tantalizing curve of her hip, the pad of his thumb carving little circles against a sensitive patch of skin right below her ribs. The flesh twitched at his touch, and she shifted, only to suck in a breath as his still erect cock moved inside her.

Marco hummed at the movement, eyes lidding as he watched her arch into him on impulse and couldn't help the growl that bubbled forth as her pert rear pressed back against him. Teeth now sliding against her skin, he huffed against her shoulder as Juniper moaned and ground against him in her sleep, her still slick walls a welcome distraction from his previous frame of mind. He groaned, long and languorous as Juniper's movements slowed, but never quite stopped; her panting breaths growing deeper as she worked herself to another climax, fucking herself on his cock.

Well, then...

Rattling in his throat, Marco surged upright just enough to loom and swiftly hilted to the base, his arms taut and pressed on either side of his slumbering lover—caging her within his embrace as he gazed down upon her in fond adoration. Juniper whimpered almost soundlessly, mouth opening as his harsher, more repetitious thrusts stimulated her even more, her sweet little cunt already fluttering around him in increasingly frenetic patterns.

The obscenely wet sound of their joined sexes shortly filled the confined alcove that functioned as her nest, the remnants of their previous bout of lovemaking presenting itself.

"Mar-co... ah...!" Juniper breathed; her pink lips, now so wet and full from his ardent affections, parting delicately at the action as she turned her head towards him. Her eyes opened blearily, grey hazed with sleep and lust, the long sooty feathers of her lashes fluttering as the carnality fought with her subconscious. Whorls of her lunaskin sparked to life once more and rippled where they joined, his hand reaching up to idly caress her cheek and watch as her pale light and his blue danced together in the passing of his thumb. The conjoined colors vanishing soon after like a shooting star.

She moaned and sighed and whimpered, her head blindly turning to follow his palm. Craving his touch. Her plush lips pressed to his thumb with a desirous sigh, her eyelids fluttering closed once again as she oh-so-gently scraped her teeth against the skin.

He purred, marveling at this divine creature within his grasp. Beautiful.

Suddenly, her pussy clenched and she arched once again with a soulful cry, her walls clamping down around him.

Marco drank in these sights like a man dying of thirst, chest heaving as he continued to thrust through her climax, her increasingly desperate, longing cries urging him on. His abdominals clenched tight with every snap of his hips and he growled as he sank deep into her sodden heat, every ridge and pearl of his inhuman cock dragging out her pleasure as he pulled out once again. He watched as her wet cunt, now so flushed with arousal and dripping from his spend, parted around his girth, the liquid manner at which her pink folds peeled back to let his pearls through was mouthwatering to behold and he slowed down his pace to drag it out.

A part of him still couldn't quite believe that any of this was real... That it wasn't just some elaborate dream or hallucination and that he had been bespelled. That the beautiful woman he had been so ardently courting the night prior, was simply just a figment of his imagination and that he was soon to wake up and be sorely disappointed.

If this is a dream... he began, only to trail off upon withdrawing his dripping cock completely, much to his little melusine's mewling displeasure. Clear strings of their sexual fluids still connected them as he bent down to go lower. Marco growled as the sensual scent of her musky sex filled his senses, fanning hot breath over her red and quivering quim while he used his wing-claws and tail to lift and present her.

Monstrous claws gripping her thighs, it was quite a sight to behold to see her dripping cunt so swollen and ready for him as he parted her open like a flower. The squish of her fat bottom against his hands an utter delight as he played with them, using them as he saw fit to better reveal her glistening used hole and the white trickle of his seed from its opening. He audibly groaned in loud appreciation.

A slight stirring of movement from where he'd bent Juniper over his coils let him know that she was waking, as she mumbled a soft, "Hmm? What is—M-marco?" She tried squirming, only to squeak as his tail tightened around her. Holding her still.

"If this is a dream," Marco murmured as he slowly sank down into her folds, mouth brushing against her slickened and puffy mound. She squeaked, lurching. His breath stuttered as her ripe scent threatened to overwhelm everything, his cock throbbing in time with his heart beat. "Don't wake me up."

"W-wait, Marc-oh-OHH," he heard Juniper wail, only humming in response as he slowly, achingly supped on her tremulous labia. And Gods, she was even better the second time, his tongue carding devious paths through her folds as he lapped with meticulous attention to every lip and crevice. Juniper's whining turning deep and pleasured as he continued his activities, whatever protests she had vanishing into thin air, her pert bottom angled to take him better as he proceeded to lick and nibble and tease.

He groaned long and low, tongue languidly twisting and rolling this way and that. "Your pussy tastes so good, I can't get enough of it," he mumbled, flicking his tongue to delve inside her hot cavern, his heady groan an obscene thing as he lapped and twirled, only to withdraw and flick at her clit before diving in again. Juniper flinched and whined above him, absolutely insensate with pleasure and spewing nonsensical sounds while her hips bucked against his face. He gave her thighs a squeeze when she tried to move away from him, a deep, heady growl rumbling up his throat as he was not finished yet with his decadent meal, sucking in her flushed cunt with an obscenely lewd slurp in retaliation.

The sound Juniper made then was something no human could reasonably imitate, a combination of a lustful cry and something more bestial. Her hungry pussy palpitated around his invading tongue as she came yet again, and Marco took full advantage of this gift, pulling out just enough to shake his tongue over her pussy lips to stimulate her further, curling the tip to tease and bully at her clit.

"Ah! Ah, M-marco! Ahh—!" Juniper babbled, weakly trying to twist away even as she shook uncontrollably with pleasure, her hands clawing at the coils wrapped around her as her climax soared and soared, prolonged in aching stasis with Marco's persistent supplications. He let out a muffled moan as he felt her pulse around him, drinking and slurping in an unhurried gait, practically in a debauched heaven all his own while he sucked down everything she gave him, her cunt drooling with her release.

Sticky and messy, and not caring a wit about either, Marco made a profane schluck, schluck, schluck sound with his mouth as he repeatedly quaffed the pooling reservoir of her sex like it was his own personal water dish. Juniper's squealing turned high and hoarse as her movements became more erratic and exhausted, too aroused and overstimulated to do anything more than quake with orgasm after orgasm as he had his wicked way with her. Drool combined with strings of her fluids occasionally dripped down between them and onto his bed of scales, his hungry voracious consumption of her quim hardly letting up for even a moment.

Even now, as he squeezed and massaged the soft globes of her buttocks to provide some alternate stimulation, he couldn't help stuffing his face between her cheeks. His hot and livid cock was now practically aching as he idly rubbed it against a portion of his tail, the flared head nigh oozing with slick and the pale precursor to his cum, globs of it smearing over his indigo scales; just waiting to fill her again.

"Nooooo, Marco, p-pleease!" she finally wailed, back arching so prettily as yet another climax gripped her in its claws, her legs flexing under his hands with the strength of it. "Ahh—nmnn!! S'too—hah—much!"

He disconnected himself with a wet smack, his tongue slithering out of her trembling slit. Strings of her spend briefly connected them as he huffed open-mouthed, his fangs sharp and wet in the faint light. "Oh?" he rasped, carding his fingers up around her buttocks to her waist, watching her twitch and mewl as the nerves in her body registered pleasure from every corner, "So you want me to stop?"

"Ye—nnh—mnnn!" she tried to say, but it seemed her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth in her indecision. Marco found it cute how she was so reluctant to speak what she wanted. The woman still too shy to fully voice the carnal needs that wracked her body.

--

Lorelei’s breath quickened as she snapped out of her trance, the thrumming of her heart beating in time with the overwhelming noise that was the active array. Watching mutely in equal parts awe and dread as the air above her crackled, all the hair on her body standing on end as a twisted form manifested, clad in armor as black as night and bearing a horned helm that stared down at her mournfully.

Her breathing stuttered as the startlingly humanoid beast loomed above her, displaying an imposing elegance that for a brief moment made her wonder if she’d had it all wrong.

This being is to be my husband? she wondered, chest heaving as the demon—as if puppeted by some unknown force—jerked his head erratically before kneeling over her. His armor clanking together heavily as he struck the floor, the weight of the action jostling his form…

Only to dash away all her hope the moment he roughly grabbed her flimsy gown and tore it asunder, exposing her naked form to him fully, her surprised screech unable to drown out the jeering cheers and moans she could hear from their audience.

The very air seemed to change its tempo, the chanting taking on a hungry, frenzied beat. Lorelei cried out as she struggled anew, unable to look away in terror as the demonic knight loosened a covering over his groin, the plates parting like organic armor to reveal the swelling girth beneath.

It was huge! That’s supposed to fit inside me? Lorelei shook her head desperately, begging the beast not to go through with it, whimpering as he palmed a handful of her tender breast, the sharp nails of his gauntlets puncturing her skin. Instead of just pure pain, however, pleasure soared as the ritual took its effect, her womanhood gushing with gusto, prepping to invite him.

“My Lord, please… Don’t do it,” she gasped, trying to fight the dizzying effects, body twitching and shivering as he kneaded the pliant flesh. “I don’t want this—not like this, please!”

As if hearing her, the demon’s helmeted head twitched again like there was a sound buzzing in his ear—or perhaps a secondary voice—that compelled the demon to remove his hand from her body to address something at his throat. An audible click sounded as he depressed something under the jaw of his helmet, his hands lifting to remove the sorrowful visage with a reverence that felt very out of place.

Only for Lorelei to choke in utter horror at what she saw.

A man’s face. Regal, were it not that he was so ghastly pale and mottled blue like a corpse, his skin cracked like porcelain and interspersed with burning tears of demonic corruption. His eyes glowed a sickly red hue, gaze cold and unfeeling despite how greatly they burned. There was an unfocused quality to their sheen, like the devil himself wasn’t even fully home.

This creature—she realized, trying to shrink further into the floor as that grotesque visage drew closer, a soft, almost human sigh parting those ruined lips, the sound fading into a very inhuman growl—is a thrall!

She tried turning her head away once she realized his intent, but was roughly reminded of her place, his clawed hand clamping hard over her jaw to force her head back, meeting his searching lips.

Lorelei made a muffled noise of protest as he kissed her, the broken skin and scarring of his lips feeling strange against her own, his blank gaze staring into hers numbly as he performed the empty deed. His hot tongue probed and pressed insistently at her clenched teeth, begging for entrance—before his thumb depressed into her skin, his claw scratching a deep line into her jaw that had her crying out, the sound quickly stifled by his lapping exploration. He tasted like iron.

Why he insisted upon performing an act that was reserved for lovers when this was clearly anything but, eluded her, but she supposed in a way that was the point. A corruption of acts. Marriage. Lovemaking. It was all meant to be an immoral imitation, a perversion.

Blood dripped liberally down her throat from the wound on her jawline… If she managed to live through this it would scar.

She thought of the wedding ceremonies she’d seen between the members of her family, how happy they appeared, the beauty of their love and basking in the glow of light, and felt nothing but loathing. No, that was not a fate reserved for her. She was the sacrificial lamb to their joys and freedoms, the blood price to everything they enjoyed in this world…

Why was she made to suffer as they rejoiced and reaped the benefits?

Pain tore through Lorelei in her distraction, a gasping wail escaping her throat and breaking the kiss as the demon thrust within her, back arching as his heavy length punished her insides without consideration. Lorelei gasped and panted, gurgling in pained wrath as she looked upon the twisting orgy at the fringes, the air hazy with their heat and the not-so-subtle pall of lust that hovered above the ground like a fine smoke.

She gritted her teeth, harnessing that wrath. Harnessing the pain. The betrayal. The hate. Sharpening her intent like a blade, focusing as the first wave of pleasure finally struck, her body, at last, acclimating to the ordeal.

Her concentration was almost dissolved however when the demon grabbed hold of her throat with a possessive growl, having shifted his grip down from her jaw and pressing his palm into her trachea. Lorelei gagged, tensing up as her eyes locked with his, afraid that either she’d been discovered or that her time was already up, her arms yanking against the chains in reflex, wanting to alleviate the pressure on her throat.

But the demon simply sighed in that quiet way of his, looking upon her with lidded eyes, his cracked lips opening wordlessly as he continued his commanded duty, his other hand firmly holding her hip in place as he thrust. Seemingly satisfied with her undivided attention, the grip on her neck loosened enough to allow her to breathe. And she did so greedily, tears pricking the corner of her eyes as he dipped in for another kiss, her heart stampeding desperately.

W-what is this? she thought, scrunching her eyes closed, moaning as her pleasure spiked when he ground his pelvis into hers. Even the biting edges of his armor made the sensation all the more potent as they jammed into her thighs. His displeased snarl had her opening her eyes once more in alarm before he squeezed her throat again, pulling his face away to give her a surprisingly furious look, his fangs bared.

The message was clear: “Eyes on me.”

Choking, Lorelei gazed up at the demon speculatively, noting with a hint of growing alarm that there was an… intelligence to his gaze now. A focus that hadn’t been there prior.

Hatred.

She could see it. Lingering just under the surface. Fury the likes of which she had never seen, contained within an unfeeling shell. His will shackled. Enslaved. Yet there was resistance somewhere deep inside, satiated, but only just. This was a proud being, she surmised, brought low by the demon king, and despite having no choice but to do as he was commanded, absolutely loathed his master. So much so that even the slightest give in his indomitable will had the proud demon struggling to claw out.

Lorelei huffed, breathing in tandem with him now, her eyes gazing up into his own like it would unveil everything, knowing well that the eyes were the windows to the soul, a prime focus of divination. And she could see it, somewhere deep within, howling to be let out, reaching for her.

Faintly, Lorelei felt her lip curl, able to feel that raw, untapped potential just waiting to be unleashed, the burgeoning swell of her own power synchronizing. Calling him.

Kill them, it whispered, hissing like entwining serpents in the dark, the order roaring into a wrathful crescendo. Kill them all!

“Come on… Is this…all you got?” she taunted breathlessly, her grunting sounds turning into a vicious snarl as she leaned into him, bucking her hips. “Fuck me harder, you bitch!”

The demon didn’t hesitate, his hand leaving her throat in favor of throwing his arm to the side, summoning a massive broadsword that severed all her chains with a flourish. Lorelei didn’t even flinch when he plunged to blade behind her head, cutting out a sizable chunk of her hair in the process. With an ease that could only come of those demonically inclined, he quickly bucked her up against the flat of the blade, his hands gripping the back of her knees as he thrust deeper with an enraged snarl, mouth opening wide to punch sharp fangs into the meat of her shoulder.

“Yes!” Lorelei rejoiced, both at the pleasure and the searing connection she felt with this demon’s power, a doorway slamming open as mystical synapses fired and joined together, forging a bond. Power to power. She could see the network in her mind’s eye, the magic nodes connecting everyone to the circle and the circle to them…

They were the center.

They were the center of everything.

She wheezed a breathless laugh, unfeeling of the blood that dripped down her breast. Unknowing of the crystal blue that lit her eyes like twin suns, nor of the rain of equally blue swords that poised above every participant of this godforsaken place.

“Oh, yes… Make me feel again,” she said shakily, turning her face to the ceiling in quiet, vindictive rapture. Threading her fingers through her demon’s white hair like she would a lover.

Then she let the guillotine fall.

Lorelei wailed, her orgasm splitting through her just as the chamber echoed with the visceral splitting of the ritual practitioners, their bodies exploding exquisitely as demonic blades made short work of their feeble mortal forms. Power. Pure and unadulterated power surged through her as she rode the high and her demon, the ritual’s magic having no other outlet to go now that its intended recipients had been rendered… inaccessible.

Her demon quickened his pace, Lorelei having to hold on for dear life as he pounded into her with renewed vigor. Determined it seemed, to eke out every inch of mileage he could from the encounter, groaning deeply as his lengthy cock plunged deeply before almost retracting in full, her sopping cunt sucking him back in greedily.

Lorelei's eyes rolled with the overwhelming pleasure, moaning listlessly as she glutted on power, the heady richness of the ritual bringing her to new heights as the magic flowed back through her. It was pure ecstasy.

Screams echoed throughout the chamber, the sharp tang of blood overwhelming the heady aroma of sex as sanguine pools spread to the very borders of the circle.

But Lorelei didn't care.

Instead, the hot eruption of his release threw her into orgasm once more, another powerful wave of power cresting with their union. She screamed her adulation, body nothing more than a boneless heap in the claws of her demonic lover, who roared as he filled her with rope after rope of his heated cum. She could feel his cock twitching and swelling with the effort, buried deep inside her so flush he might as well have melded to her.

Their breaths mingled as they panted together, the silence deafening…

Only for Lorelei to drop to the wet floor with a cry as her demon de-summoned, the spell keeping him there cutting off as the circle dimmed.

The ritual was complete. She survived.

Because didn’t Agnus kind of count as a wizard or alchemist or whatever? he wondered, sighing loudly for what was probably the umpteenth time as he rubbed his brows. He was starting to get a headache from all this ruminating. And look how well that turned out for him.

“Goddamn! Would you. Shut. Up,” Nico drawled, stubbing out her cigarette in the overfull ashtray that he'd told her to empty out over a week ago. The still smoking stub tumbling out as she jerked the wheel to get back in their lane after she passed a slower moving car. “You been sighin' like some lovesick teenager for hours now. S'gettin’ on my nerves.”

“Well gee. I’m sorry," Nero began, irritation making him snarky, "I’m just sighing! What? I can’t sigh?!" He threw his hands into the air, groaning as he leaned back in the chair and silently entreated some kind of higher power he knew didn't exist for saintly patience. A deficit, he feared that was probably genetic."Maybe, if you were a little more transparent about what the fuck we are doing, I wouldn't be freaking out about the end of the world over here."

"Yer such a worrywart," she grumbled right back, taking a swig from a nearby water canteen that he definitely knew had more than just water in it. Could smell it through the unwashed funk of the interior cabin and whatever else they had stewing like a rotten boot in the back. "And how the hell should I know? S'not like I was 'inducted into the deeper mysteries,'" she said, voice turning deep and somewhat sultry in imitation of someone, before switching back to her regular country twang, "—or however the fuck yer supposed to say it. We haven't exactly talked much since I was a kid, yanno."

He rolled his eyes. "I just have my doubts okay?" Nero crossed his arms, trying to close his eyes in the hopes that maybe if he fell asleep, this whole stupid trip would be done and over with by the time he woke up. "I mean really, who calls themselves a sorcerer these days?” he growled under his breath.

Which, unfortunately, didn't go unnoticed by his partner, who he swore at times had bat-like hearing. “Sorceress, thank you very much!" Nico snapped, giving his shoulder a rebuking backhand followed by a poke, with several more rapid fire pokes to follow. "And what’s wrong with that, huh? S’not like you were comin' up with any better ideas.”

Waving her invading finger away like the annoying fly it was, Nero groaned, regretting ever bringing it up. “Yeah, yeah... Whatever. Let's just drop it, alright?"

He would have left it at that, but was promptly interrupted by Nico leaning over and slugging him hard on the arm.

"Ow! Geez! What was that for?!" he barked, even though it didn't hurt in the least—it was more the principle of the matter. He squirmed in his seat as she persisted in trying to poke him again, this time brandishing a wooden pointer that was carved to look like a creepy, desiccated hand.

He'd gifted it to her as a sort of gag present for her birthday, partly because she was always complaining about being unable to scratch her own back while she was driving and partly because its "pointer" was in the shape of a middle finger. Hilarious! It fit her to a "T."

Unfortunately, he obviously hadn't taken into account that she'd weaponize the damn thing to menace him.

"Stop. Being. Such a. Debbie. Doubter!" she growled, lunging at him. Punctuating each following word with a sharp jab; weaving chaotically between lanes as she tried her damnedest to get him. Leaning over the center aisle, her persistent jabbing missing more times than not.

"Will. You. Fucking—" A boxy shape manifested out of the corner of his eye, and he whirled. "NICO EYES ON THE ROAD!"

Whooping, she swerved just as a semi came roaring by, its horns blaring at full blast as the gust of its passing rattled the driver's side windows and shook the chassis.

And Nero, now plastered halfway up the inner wall of the vehicle with his devil bringer wing-claws poking holes in the upholstery, released the breath he'd been holding. The tension in his body unspooling like a released spring as he sunk back into his chair, wings dissipating in a flicker of blue sparks; and wondered—not for the first time—where the hell she even learned how to drive.

He had found her, at last. His quarry.

His deadly little viperess...

She looked decidedly less deadly at the moment: naked and bathing in a clear, rippling pool. The cascade from the nearby waterfall providing the perfect backdrop and ambiance to the scene. A fine mist of water vapor lending an ethereal air, as shafts of sunlight cut through them like a fiery knife; its searing, unyielding power eliciting a quiet shiver of disquiet and desire through his body.

Kars, lurking amongst the shadows of the jungle foliage, hungrily marveled with the way she so easily defied its lethal light. Her hair a dark crimson stream that flowed down the contours of her toned and sun-warmed body—pooling around her lithe form as it idly floated just under the water’s surface. Skin like copper shimmered with moisture, licked by a thousand small gemstones that flowed down her flanks as her arms arced up and carded through those bloodied locks. Strands of red parting under her attentions in exotic disarray, twining through her fingers and curling around her wrists like a living thing.

Dark horns (that he had yet to see due to her elaborate mask and headdress) curled freely from the sides of her skull, their upward points ending just shy of the hairline above her forehead—eliciting the image of a black diadem. Kars frowned at this, as he considered their shape and heft. Recalling that the females of their species rarely (if ever) developed horns so intricate or large; a byproduct, he learned through thorough study of their long history, of the Teotl's steadily declining fertility in direct contrast to their increasing lifespans. And as their long lives no longer necessitated frequent breeding, their secondary sexual characteristics lost some of their use, and thus, diminished.

But this woman here showcased a fullness of shape and form the likes of which had not been seen in millennia. A realization that made his cock grow tight and heavy as the implications of that epiphany blossomed. Kars leered as a slow grin curled his lips, the skin sliding wetly over his fangs as his mouth languidly opened to allow his tongue to lave over its ivory curve, his mouth watering in anticipation for the chase to come.

Because he was certain she would run. They always do.

She turned her head, hair pulling aside, and Kars was finally able to glimpse for the first time her young desirous face. Lips, luscious and full, parted wetly as she concentrated on her task; getting her hair into some kind of order as she raked her dainty fingers through the dampened locks. Her eyes were lidded and distant, their fiery orange depths glowing with an inner fire as they stared down between lowered lashes and the curved beak of her nose into the water below, using its rippling surface as a mirror.

She was beautiful and terrible for it. An unearthly, sensuous being who came as if from nowhere or perhaps plucked from the very fabric of the sky itself like a manifestation of that igneous radiance, sunlit and divine. It chaffed him to see her so visibly indifferent in what was a death sentence to the rest of their kind, and he burned with jealousy and lust for what tantalizing secrets her flesh must hold.

A curling sigil marked under her left eye caught his attention as sunlight cut across her cheekbone; its color as deep a blood red as her wet hair. It once would have signified her status in the established hierarchy of the tribes, with each mark denoting breed and tailored to be unique for every person. It was a necessary practice to keep family lines organized and stood at a glance as a means of identifying relatives or next of kin to prevent inbreeding.

And what he saw made euphoria spin through him as his eyes carved over that mark, engraving it into his mind.

His theory was confirmed. Not only was she Aksel’s kin…

She was his daughter.

His breath hitching, Kars growled deep in his chest as he palmed his own length around his loincloth, giving it an affirming squeeze and testing pump. Oh, it had been so long... Too long since he had laid claim to a Teotl female in heat. He had almost forgotten what it felt like. The excitement. The anticipation of the pursuit. The scent of a fertile mate ripe for the taking even as she struggled and bit and clawed, begging to be mounted and bred again and again until collapsing from fatigue. He could almost visualize the way his cock would pierce her folds as he held her down with those beautifully convenient horns. The way her nether lips would part to swallow his thick length as he punished her cunt; the hot squelch of their combined fluids a lovely percussion to her screams and cries and lustful moans.

And it was made all the more delicious knowing it was the daughter of his most dearly detested rival he'd be defiling. Corrupting. Making his.

It was simply tragic that Aksel himself wasn't around to witness it.

Kars breath stuttered as he abruptly released his livid cock, his eyelids fluttering in ecstasy as he felt the blood pumping in the rhythm he had set. His palm was slicked and wet from the dribble of pre-cum that oozed out of his flared and pulsing cockhead, so hungry was he for her. The florid taste of her aroma had already permeated his senses as he hunted, and it was even stronger now that she had cleansed herself of competing scents, burgeoning into the early stages of heat.

'Cus, didn’t Agnus kind of count as a wizard or alchemist or whatever? he mused, sighing loudly for what was probably the umpteenth time as he pinched his brows. He was starting to get a headache. And look how well that turned out for him.

“Goddamn! Would you. Shut. Up,” Nico drawled, stubbing out her cigarette in the overfull ashtray that he'd told her to empty out over a week ago. The still smoking stub tumbling out as she jerked the wheel to get back in the lane after she passed a slower moving car. “You been sighin' like some lovesick teenager for hours now. S'gettin’ on my nerves.”

“Well gee. I’m sorry," Nero began in the most sarcastically oozing voice he could muster, "I’m just sighing! What? I can’t sigh?!" He threw his hands into the air, groaning as he leaned back in the chair and silently entreated some kind of higher power he knew didn't exist for saintly patience. Smacking a hand to his forehead he let it smear down his face, the exasperation palpable. "Maybe, if you were a little more transparent about what the fuck we are doing, I wouldn't be freaking out about the end of the world over here."

"Yer such a worrywart," she grumbled right back, taking a swig from a nearby water canteen that he definitely knew had more than just water in it. "And how the hell should I know? S'not like I was 'inducted into the deeper mysteries,'" she said, voice turning deep and somewhat sultry in imitation of someone, before switching back to her regular country twang, "—or however the fuck yer supposed to say it. We haven't exactly talked much since I was a kid, yanno."

He rolled his eyes. "I just have my doubts okay?" Nero crossed his arms, trying to close his eyes in the hopes that maybe if he fell asleep, this whole stupid trip would be done and over with by the time he woke up. "I mean really, who calls themselves a sorcerer these days?” he growled under his breath.

Which, unfortunately, didn't go unnoticed by his partner, who he swore at times had bat-like hearing—which went along just swimmingly with her batty personality. “Sorceress, thank you very much!" Nico snapped, giving his shoulder a rebuking backhand followed by a poke, with several more rapid fire pokes to follow. "And what’s wrong with that, huh? S’not like you were comin' up with any better ideas.”

Waving her invading finger away, Nero groaned, regretting ever bringing it up. “Yeah, yeah... Whatever. Let's just drop it, alright?"

He would have kept pouting, but was promptly interrupted by Nico leaning over and slugging him hard on the arm.

"Ow! Geez! What was that for?!" he barked, even though it didn't hurt in the least—it was more the principle of the matter, not to mention it being fucking annoying when she persisted in trying to poke him again, this time with a wooden back-scratcher that was hand carved to look like a creepy, mummified hand.

He'd given her the damn thing as a gag gift for her birthday. Never had he expected that she'd use it to menace him like this.

"Stop. Being. Such a. Debbie. Doubter!" she growled, lunging at him. Punctuating each following word with a sharp jab, weaving chaotically between lanes as she tried her damnedest to get him.