#scionsrot

SHE'D   GROWN   USED   TO   BEING   SURROUNDED   BY   ODDITIES   ,   BY   OTHERWORDLY   CREATURES   AND   PEOPLE   .           even   as   a   speaker   ,   she   had   recorded   the   trials   and   tribulations   of   many   strange   entities   .   it's   a   fascination   for   her   ,   to   connect   herself   with   people   hailing   from   outside   of   her   world   …   even   now   that   she   finds   herself   changed   (   with   only   a   dim   flicker   of   her   humanity   remaining   )   she   still   manages   to   keep   this   keen   interest   in   learning   .   perhaps   the   only   difference   is   now   that   she   hungers   for   a   taste   of   the   unknown   ,   to   learn   just   how   this   girl   might   taste   on   her   tongue   &   how   she   could   exploit   her   for   more   power   . 

it's   a   terrible   thing   this   voice   in   her   head   …   the   voice   that   screams   at   her   to   CONSUME   CONSUME   CONSUME   .   to   seek   out   strength   no   matter   the   means   .   it's   a   voice   that   she   struggles   to   quiet   ;   stifling   it's   volume   only   by   sheer   will   (   and   that   will   is   dwindling   )   .

davina's movements always seemed so calculated, deliberate, almost practiced and perhaps in a way they were. something pretending to be something else: something real. it's why her head tilts slightly, fair locks shifting slightly across visage, hovering above sharp eyes: eyes that would ever only show the vampire visions of times to come, of a world turned asunder by her dogma, of followers molded into a shape she so desired. perhaps it was ironic that she could no longer clearly see the world around her ⸻ now filled with shapes &. blurry figures, a haze like midnight fog rolling across vision, an intricate mosaic of colors. it didn't bother her, sacrifices had to be made, there was no higher calling if you did not suffer first [ ... ] and she'd gladly suffer, in blood, bones, ash and death. always in death. perhaps that's why supple tiers curve up into a smile that's every bit angelic in its presence, why the poison that always dances upon her tongue is hidden by a sheen of honey.

here, within the ruins of an order she once belonged to, now the breeding ground of her hungry followers, here davina was a haunting spectre. death's pallor hidden behind veil seemingly woven from the nightsky, lace like snow draped across features, hiding the unnatural look within eyes &. the curve of bloodied lips. obscuring her visage from view. but from behind that gilded cage does she take them in. this knight of bleeding red, that sanguine color a direct contrast to davina's own blinding bright color: long tresses like snow meeting a glimmer of faded coral and eyes that long lost their color- now but a milky pearl. here in this fallen sanctuary she had build her own heaven, here where her old bloodline used to thrive, her followers had build her an altar worthy of eternal bloodshed. in these hallowed halls, nothing more than ruins for others, davina reigned supreme. and so this wouldn't be the first knight finding this forgotten sanctuary ( the knight of thorns found their way here too ). it wouldn't be the last either. broken halls that once held promises of paladin's long gone by, of a mother superior and her loyal daughters, of lashings deep into flesh. one thing davina knew and that was whatever @scionsrot wished to achieve she would make it impossible.

whatever led them here, continued to lead them here, this evening star would covet for herself, twist it and offer it like the forbidden fruit in this serpentine garden. what did stilott want ? and to that davina asked herself: what did she want from stilott ? one could say that this question was what made her stand up from the altar ( her death and rebirth ) and descend down the broken steps, gown pooling around her like an umbrella made of the darkest night, like ocean water surrounding broken ships. she the lighthouse: ever burning. ❝ it's not wise to unravel a web without knowing why it has been weaved in the first place, my hallowed knight. ❞ the vampire speaks as if reciting a psalm, eyes closed; for the truth she could see in the dark. the knight's reply soon echoes through, clings to broken tiles and war torn walls. i find such mysteries intriguing. shall we attempt to puzzle out your situation?

hands slip from sleeves, with gloves absent the odd colored gradient upon arms could be seen by all, by broken eyes of broken statues. cursing her, she who came from a long line of hunters but had now become what her family used to kill: look at me now, father, am i not perfect now ? ❝ whoever send you here before were wrong to do so. ❞ eyes open and she seeks that color of red again, focusing on it as shapes &. shades start to melt into one another. follows the rot within the knight to find her placement before her. it's only when the midnight sun stands before the knight that hands seek gauntlets, cradling them, pulling them towards chest. ❝ you keep coming back to seek answers i will not give. ❞ lost knight. damned knight. davina should become their beacon, their voice of reason, the deity they should kneel for.

❝ sir stilott. i am god. that is all there is to say. whatever could you try to unravel ? you've seen my flock, my house ... ❞ the broken church. ❝ are you trying to understand a god ? oh my ... ❞ soft hands cradle metal, simper flourishing upon gentle visage. ❝ then i shall be benevolent and allow you to look at me. what is it that you see ? ❞ the torches that light up the ruins of her sanctuary cast shadows upon once bright white walls, broken statues of revered hunters fill these hallowed halls ( of people she used to admire but now were but stepping stones upon her crusade ). her past and future collided upon the very stone altar that was now her throne. one stained with dried blood ⸻ her own ... many, many years ago for she died here and here she had risen once more. ❝ look at me properly, sir stilott. ❞

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞. perhaps even a staple within their high - society: the continuous hosting of extravagant balls, the need to be entertained no matter the means. so too this feast hosted by one revered as high authority. guests delegates from various noble houses and houses of renown, a feast to strengthen the bonds between them all. again, and again, again. loyalties spun, sworn upon dead hearts &. whispered across stolen blood. ghastly souls congregating within this royal house of fear and nightmare. for when zhou jian would call, vampire houses would listen. cursed souls promising that they would adhere to the rules established in a time long gone by, swear sanguine oath to one another and to the nightmare king.

this nightmare king present in shadows, where night swaddled the world, his reach far &. wide. in dreams and nightmares, for he governed them both. olden deity, monstrosity, curse. from balcony does he look down upon his guests, fiery amber gliding across the puppets moving about, following their descent into collective madness. revelry. spinning around as the bell tolled midnight. dresses, robes, heels- a flutter of sound and a dazzling spectacle, hiding the corpses that inhabited them. though, even now, while there is much to see ... sharp gaze wishes only to find one person. and when they do, sanguine lips curve upwards into a gentle smile. ah, how a beast could pretend to be docile when it wished to be !

they leave the balcony, slender digits ( covered ) slide across the railing before they descend down the grand stairs. robes flutter behind them, following the waves of inky tresses darker than any abyss could ever be. and even amidst the haunting tune of the orchestra it seemed their presence spoke louder than all. for the dancing corpses turned, heads snapping, lips parting, bodies trying to get closer &. closer. but that jian ignored, lips parting into a silent laugh to see that they were the last to turn ( was it pettiness, ego, pride ? perhaps all of it ). the bodies part like the sea, the melody drowning out the terror of the night rising as if it too was curious about what was about to unfold. jian does not speak their name, does not utter a single word but simply slips hand around their waist, pulls them into a dizzying turn, right underneath the warm light of glittering chandelier.

❝ won't you stop pretending not wanting to see me ? ❞ he's invaded their space now, forward, lips close to ear, barely brushing against golden ringlets. ❝ you've decided to come, gift me your smile would you not ? ❞ free hand would glide across @scionsrot's arm, slid down until it found his hand. the ease with which the vampire king's hand would slide into theirs, claws wrapping around covered skin and with a wide step backwards does he lead them away. swirls the both of them into the center of the ballroom. his golden sun. dazzling, bright, thorny. cold, so cold, but winter's touch reigned within jian's hollow ribcage therefore how fitting they both were. he'd make it so, will it so, arrange it so. those russet hues bore into his, a silent flame crackling and jian drinks it as if starved from sustenance. entangled &. enwrapped with one another, where the blood council member ended and the sovereign began nigh impossible to decipher. grip tight, there was no softness here, yet only present upon those red, red lips. but zhou jian was ever only gentle when blood would spill and ichor would be guzzled down maw.

the hand upon gerhard's hip tightens, claws digging into supple flesh, gilded locks splayed across back kiss the edges of jian's hand. the music whispers, it tells a story, one wicked &. long and when the night king, voice deep and true, settles between the two it offers another kind of secret. ❝ if not your smile, then surely your heart ? ❞ perhaps their golden - lit vampire's response was to be expected. leveling them with that haughty look, that auburn gaze spilling the poison those lips refused to dirty themselves with. " i won't even dignify that with a response. "

so the king of nightmares laughs, pulls them into a dizzying dip and keeps them there. a waterfall of dark spills across shoulders soon after, capturing them into the eldritch creature's cage. eyes narrow, yet simper grows. ❝ i'll take that as permission. ❞ permission for what ? perhaps to remain that moth drawn to a flame. to douse that flame. to collect the ash &. the cinders and preserve it within that hollow, hollow heart of his. and so he laughs once more, soft, an alarmingly gentle melody amidst the maddening crescendo of the orchestra. he takes this moment: his dance partner, partially pressed against him, connected there where it mattered most and a promise woven in blood rests upon jian's tongue. he'd have their attention, their smile and their heart. he'd have it all.

a  blanket  of  faux  night  time  had  descended  upon  the  xianzhou  luofu  —  plunging  the  vast  ship  into  a  kind  of  calm  that  jingliu  craved  after  a  long  day's  work  .  the  saturation  of  people  wandering  the  bustling  streets  thinned  significantly  ;  streetlights  flickering  on  as  the  clock  struck  9pm  …  it  gave  her  a  moment  to  relax  ,  a  chance  to  avoid  being  shoulder  -  to  -  shoulder  with  rushing  merchants  and  civilians  . 

the  gentle  hum  of  quietude  was  nice  ,  but  jingliu  was  drawn  to  seek  out  company  all  the  same  —  from  the  only  person  which  she'd  never  tire  ,  the  only  one  she'd  make  time  for  despite  how  difficult  her  schedule  might  become  .  their  encounters  have  been  thin  lately  ,  foxian  taking  to  the  stars  to  visit  different  planets  while  jingliu  remained  on  the  luofu  to  train  it's  soldiers  .

keeping  to  the  shadows  ,  she  made  her  way  over  to  a  place  she'd  assumed  the  foxian  would  still  be  lingering  ;  not  needing  to  contact  her  for  confirmation  .  call  it  a  gut  feeling  ,  but  when  jingliu  looked  up  to  find  the  sky  so  star  kissed  ,  it  only  made  sense  that  baiheng  would  be  sitting  atop  her  starskiff  to  admire  it  .  sword  champion  approached  near  silently  ,  features  shifting  fondly  as  bloody  gaze  found  the  other's  familiar  form  ;  sitting  atop  her  starskiff  while  propped  up  by  her  arms  —  head  tilted  up  to  admire  the  night  sky  . 

she  took  a  moment  to  admire  quietly  ,  soaking  in  the  sight  of  baiheng's  peace  as  she  occasional  ship  passed  by  overhead  .  jingliu  offered  no  greeting  ,  knowing  all  too  well  that  her  footfalls  had  long  since  been  recognised  regardless  of  how  light  footed  she  might  be  .  they  didn't  need  to  speak  ,  all  too  comfortable  in  each  other's  company  to  need  to  announce  anything  .  jingliu  climbed  aboard  the  starskiff  carefully  ,  reaching  a  hand  up  to  touch  at  the  other's  fingers  ;  an  attempt  to  get  their  attention  as  she  slipped  into  the  back  of  the  ship  .  it's  a  way  to  beckon  the  foxian  closer  ,  coaxing  her  into  the  ship  so  that  she  could  be  greeted  in  full  . 

the  ship's  engine  was  off  and  outside  there  were  no  lights  aside  from  the  dim  gleam  from  stars  and  the  headlights  of  passing  vehicles  —  leaving  their  faces  &  forms  to  be  sporadically  and  briefly  lit  up  as  the  light  passed  through  windows  .  jingliu  laid  herself  ‘pon  gathered  pillows  on  the  floor  ,  the  ghost  of  a  smile  tugging  at  her  lips  when  baiheng  finally  answers  her  silent  call  and  joins  her  wordlessly  .  silence  is  a  language  they’ve  mastered  ,  their  longing  gazes  speaking  more  words  than  they  ever  needed  to  . 

foxian  lowered  herself  to  jingliu's  level  ,  knee  tactfully  placed  ‘tween  the  swordmaster’s  thighs  as  gently  they  came  together  —  a  hand  softly  reaching  to  cup  her  cheek  ,  to  lead  jingliu's  lips  to  their  own  with  a  tenderness  that  sometimes  she  questioned  whether  or  not  she  deserved  .  hands  reached  to  settle  upon  the  other's  hips  ,  guiding  their  frames  closer  together  as  she  melted  into  the  kiss  .  tired  sanguine  eyes  fluttered  shut  ,  allowing  herself  to  be  devoured  by  the  moment  ;  opening  only  when  she  wanted  to  glance  the  other's  features  as  a  ship's  headlights  passed  by  . 

jingliu  gave  herself  over  fully  and  effortlessly  ,  lifting  her  chin  to  give  space  to  baiheng's  heated  kisses  as  they  trailed  from  lips  to  jaw  —  a  hand  reaching  up  along  the  other's  back  &  settling  at  the  nape  of  their  neck  ;  fingertips  stroking  in  circles  while  foxian  nipped  at  the  skin  .  lacing  their  legs  together  ,  the  swordmaster  gave  in  entirely  and  allowed  her  back  to  fall  against  plush  pillows  behind  ;  letting  loose  a  torrid  sigh  .  free  hand  reached  up  to  massage  the  base  of  one  of  the  foxian's  ears  ,  the  fingers  of  the  other  daring  to  curl  'round  her  hair  ;  tugging  softly  . 

“              …  do  i  look  like  a  fuckin'  joke  to  you  ?               ”                 he's  snarling  ,  hackles  up  .  he  doesn't  want  you  to  know  ,  but  he  can  totally  meow  . 

                there    are    two    overarching    themes    of    their    life    to    which    they    can    attribute    those    words    .    first    ,    the    ever    present    guilt    of    their    sins    that    claw    at    them    ,    shadows    that    overwhelm    to    claw    at    their    feet    .    they    cover    every    inch    of    their    flesh    to    escape    the    feeling    of    the    gashes    they    open    on    their    legs    ,    gaping    as    every    other    wound    .    second    ,    the    everlasting    memories    of    every    last    way    they    have    been    hurt    .    time    and    time    again    ,    they    are    met    with    it         -         always    almost    forced    to    obsess    over    every    last    detail    of    things    most    would    have    long    forgotten    ,    far    past    healed    by    the    time    they've    come    to    reach    sunday's    age    .    golden    eyes    dart    between    holvisio    and    the    ground    ,    the    sky    ,    the    walls      /         even    in    the    fresh    air    ,    there    are    always    walls      /         before    finally    peering    into    the    intricate    details    of    their    gloves    ,    because    ,    maybe    ,    just    maybe    ,    they    will    offer    solace    when    they've    been    forced    to    confront    the    unhealthiest    parts    of    themselves    ,    the    parts    that    they'd    nearly    become    overwhelmed    within    for    eternity    .

                they    knew    this    would    happen    ,    of    course    .    they    knew    the    difficulty    of    what    they'd    finally    become    determined    to    face    .    if    they    are    to    create    a    true    paradise         (         one    that    robin    will    be    happy    to    see      )      then    they    must    first    ,    finally    ,    after    all    of    this    time    ,    confront    that    to    which    they    have    turned    a    blind    eye    amongst    all    these    years    .

                isn't    it    cruel    ?    how    salvation    can    only    be    achieved    through    grueling    torment    ?

                finally    ,    their    tongue    forms    around    the    words    .      ❛   i    know    .      ❜         the    pain    is    what    proves    they're    alive    ,    after    all    .    they've    fallen    short    of    aeon    ,    and    ,    even    after    accepting    it    ,    were    not    prepared    for    the    unabated    hurt    of    human    .    still    ,    after    everything    their    father    put    them    through    ,    the    metallic    taste    of    blood    in    their    mouth    is    almost    nice    ,    sometimes    .    it    reminds    them    that    they    are    finally    free    to    be    .    .    .    just    .    .    .    human    .    and    once    they    are    done    ,    they    can    finally    die    as    one    .

                ❛   i    wouldn't    expect    another    to    understand    ,    but    it's    a    bittersweet    kind    of    torture    .    a    nostalgic    ,    harrowing    ,    all    -    encompassing    .    .    .    lovely    kind    of    torment    .      ❜