#bloodspring

commissioned from 물약

Crimson slithers along the floor, most vinelike, pouring out from them in sordid strings. Thickening threads—numerous, winding—solidify themselves until they become living rope, twining around firm muscle, warm skin, and seated figure.

Countless crisscross, the beginning of a lattice, one that resembles a makeshift bodycage to loosely cocoon Ais’ form. Countless where it could have been one, but it’s somehow… better this way, where Tiên can feel each strand as if they were an individual limb. It was indeed more difficult to keep them separated, to stop them from just melting into one whole mutable mass as they laced into and through each other, but as the complexity of her construct started to mount, so did her focus.

commissioned from 大望満貴, font from Web Fonts

Ais was not a kind man. Nor was he one for gestures of pity.

No, this was instead mere whim—where boredom steeped every choice in its own shadow in Ais’ pursuit of anything but. It meant that amusement could move him in a way that nothing else could, and made even seeming acts of selfless service into utter selfishness.

To feed the hand that bit you bloody. A most interesting diversion—made all the more so from how he knew Tiên had never been properly fed in her life.

commissioned from pneech

commissioned from 大望満貴

commissioned from lulla