#temptrcss

i’d like to hope you’re more than just a monster...

                                  ...but you don’t do yourself any favours.

                         █ ▌ LYRICS STARTERS [3] ( VARIOUS BANDS/ARTISTS )  █ ▌▐                                                                       @temptrcss

Her expression had been as simple as that: A disappointed frown. To be frank the shamaness held very little reason to care about what the demon had to say to her. But for some reason, it still made her FEEL bad. Such a sharp choice of words, ones filled with cheek fitted with a smile crafted by the Nether. That had always been how her kin spoke. But Euanthe found herself mildly offended yet, if only because of the assumption of her phrase.

     ❝I do not love to hate anybody.❞ Fire sparked from her tongue      and one could almost see embers scatter from her being.      ❝It pains me to hate anyone. Especially those I would      consider enemies. I do not WISH to hate anybody, nor      anything. Not even you.❞

An exasperated breath escaped her before her features softened like wool on a lamb. A distinct sadness replaced irritation and one could see her feel g u i l t over getting frustrated with a succubus. A succubus. A demon that would tempt her love interests and trick her merely for a chuckle or two; one that would lie and cheat her because her schedule had a sudden opening. Yet she looked at her, the wary scales and tufts of fur that littered her sickeningly beautiful skin, as someone looked at a friend they had previously insulted.

headcanons! | always accepting tbh

         How does one acclimate to the transformation from another blade in the shadows to a monstrous creature bearing a dreadful resemblance to those which had been a target of rage, hatred, and despair none too long ago?  Though the physical change goes unseen (one small mercy, perhaps), it’s effects are felt; when he runs a hand through his hair in exasperation only to find a pair of jagged horns protruding from his skull, when fingers brush the blindfold covering the hollow sockets where eyes had once been and suffering a fleeting glimpse of the visions which were solely to blame for their loss in the first place, or the scrape of nails against his palm – so much sharper than they’d ever been before – and the memory of pain from the first of many tattoos etched into his skin.  Alarin knows he is an image of monstrosity, no different in the eyes of an average citizen than the demons he strives to slay.  He also knows he’s different from them, for the simple fact that his blade (or the powers he now wields) will never touch the flesh of an innocent person without due cause – that demon voice may call for otherwise, screaming at him to tear through someone and bask in the agony the ensues in the aftermath, but he tunes it out, for that is one thing that sets him apart from a monster.  Cross that barrier, and the sacrifice he has made will be for naught.

              He was already in a foul mood, Xeoth was getting angry, and Ka’dern? Well, he was constantly whispering in the back of his mind. It was day’s like this he simply wanted to let the other take the reigns, but he knew that Ka’dern rarely took over. 

                    It was even more rare that he decided to take over forcefully. Usually, it was only when the so called host was in trouble, and even then? He was quick to letting Xeoth take control of his body once more.

                   Suffice to say, Ka’dern might have been a dread-lord, but he was lazy, and at times? Well, it was simple to say he would rather his host go crazy than to simply shut him when he was requested to.

The paladin  { SAINTLY LITTLE THING } was prattling on about something or rather. Mayhaps the Light? It mattered not. In a flash the demon’s scaled left hand snatched at her slender throat and squeezed, followed shortly by plush lips that tasted the throb of adrenaline against her tongue. Anxiety was there. Fear… but so was  d e s i r e.

“      Hmn.”

She suckled gently, feeling Beau’s flesh bounce against her canines as she trailed upwards to her ear, lips parting at the lobe.

“When you touch yourself, do you think of me?”

She could have sworn that her choice of topic certainly did not warrant actions such as this -- but then what else could the Paladin expect from a being like her? Her initial thought had been that of betrayal; she had assumed they were on safe grounds and yet here she was, eyes wide and at the whim of the other’s iron grasp; weapon too far out of reach to even warrant an attack.

But then she felt lips pressing against her own and confusion set in. She was growing more accustomed to the feeling and yet, even then, nerves set in quickly; a flush grew to her face at the being’s whispered words. A brief moment they had; Beau’s feelings naught but a mixture of contradictions. She gulped; a shake of her head followed -- though the Paladin was always daring, even in the face of danger.

Varian’s ears perked up as soon as he heard her begin to speak. “You may want to reconsider. I don’t think understand what you are asking.”