#vienyos

Vienyos Descatoire

Succulent Tart's Fire Fest Thursday, June 18th - Saturday, June 20th Mar'at, Uldum Wyrmrest Accord

Vienyos will be make her Succulent Tart DEBUT at Tarts After Dark!

WHEN: November 22nd, 2025 (Saturday) WHERE: World’s End Tavern, Shattrath City (Lower City) TIMES: Doors open at 6pm WRA (8pm MG)This is a Wyrmrest Accord hosted event! Cross-faction / cross-server friendly! Anchors available via Legacy Raids on the group finder!

!!! Due to the more risque nature of our performances, an OoC Age of Consent form is required to be signed by all guests who attend. There are no exceptions! Please be sure to sign up on the character you are going to be attending with! You and your character must be 18+ to attend. !!!

Link To Form => HERE! For more info, visit our tumblr => HERE!

Vie's Succulent Tart After Dark show from 11/22/2025! This was her first time on the Tart stage!

The club lights snap to deep blood-red to expose the metal pole sitting center stage, stretching from floor to ceiling. The raunchy, low growl of the bass vibrates against the walls, and out from the fog at the back of the raised stage, Vienyos Descatoire emerges, a towering silhouette of over seven feet of lethal allure, owning the room before she even moves. Her dark blue skin shimmers softly under the lights, a subtle, almost metallic sheen that catches the eyes. A long, fiery cascade of magenta, coral, and orange hair pours down her back in heat-kissed waves, made to whip dramatically under the lights. 

Aviator sunglasses mask her gaze in a mirror-black sheen, every confident stride promises troubles worth chasing. The cropped leather jacket fits tightly against her slender shoulders and swell of her chest, unzipped just enough to tease the studded metal bra beneath. Black leather shorts ride low on her hips, and black thigh-high stockings hug every inch of those long, sculpted legs, anchored by thick leather garters. To finish the look, black, high-heeled platform ankle boots with silver studs add a bold, seductive edge to every step she takes.

She wastes no time and pulls herself up the pole and inverts into an extended butterfly split that shows off the full length of her shapely legs. One ankle anchors securely to the pole, the other reaches outward without wavering. Arcane tattoos sparkle beneath the lights as she hangs there in a perfect blend of strength and sensuality. She lets the moment simmer, allowing eyes to drink in how far she can stretch, before lowering herself to the ground.

She lands for only a heartbeat before climbing again, powerful thighs gripping the pole. In one fluid motion she flips her body into a cocoon spin, the back of one knee gripping the pole above, other leg extending down near her head in a scorpion position with both hands holding her boot. The spin turns slowly and gracefully, showing off the full control in her core and the desirable arch of her body gliding through the air.

When the rotation ends, she releases her heel and shifts her grip, muscles tightening as she pushes out into a full Iron X; one hand high, the other low, legs stretching wide into an elegant center split. Every line of her body is straight, strong, and demanding attention while she hovers parallel to the floor. She holds it just long enough to make the room ache for more before lowering herself.

Vie begins a languid stalk around the pole, letting every eye linger on the length of her body before she snaps into a sharp, full-body pop that hits impeccably with the distorted snarl of the music. Her hair lashes outward in a fierce whip, pink-orange strands erupting like sparks from a flame. A sly curl of her lips, then she tears the aviators from her face and tosses them aside to reveal the hungry glow of neon-pink eyes ready to devour the room.

With an unapologetic shrug, the jacket slides from her shoulders, unveiling the studded, silver metal bra that cradles and pronounces her generous curves. She sinks into a deep crouch, her body rippling in a provocative grind while her long, pink-orange hair cracks like a whip as she snaps her head back. Then she lowers herself further, rolling from chest to hips in one fluid wave until she’s prowling on hands and knees towards the edge of the stage. Her thighs spread wide, each movement an enticing invitation, and she presses another slow, sultry body roll into the stage to show off every lush line she intends the room to crave.

Sauntering down the steps, she chooses her target with a predacious sweep of her glowing eyes. One finger crooks under %t ’s chin, lifting their face to hers like she’s inspecting them. Her touch lingers, her breath hovering temptingly close to their mouth. Then she lets out a sly little laugh and slides her hand along their jaw as though she might pull them in, only to push their head gently but firmly away with a wicked smirk.

She slinks toward a new corner of the audience, honing in on someone brave enough to hold her gaze. She doesn’t give %t the satisfaction of attention just yet, instead she turns her back to them, hips beginning an indulgent sway mere inches away. Then she folds in half with feline grace, hair spilling forward in a lush curtain as fingers glide down the length of those shapely legs. In a flash, she snaps upright, whipping that vibrant mane back so it lashes across their chest and face in a hot, electric sting.

She strides back up the stairs, each step and sway synced to the pounding bass. Without warning, she runs and grabs the pole mid-stride, and hurls herself into a wide arc, body flying out horizontally in a breathtaking swing. Momentum shifts and she snaps into a shoulder-mount split, legs long and commanding as she stares down the crowd from upside-down dominance. 

She lands in one smooth drop to her heels and drags her thumbs under the waistband of her leather shorts. The peel-down is a slow, sinful tease that reveals the cold shine of her silver metal thong piece by piece. The garters stay strapped, thigh-highs flawless on those long, toned legs. She is pure power wrapped in leather and steel, every inch of her demanding submission long before anyone realizes they’ve given it.

Now, it’s time for the machine.

Vie walks with predatory calm toward the waiting angle grinder at the back of the stage, fingers curling around the handle like she’s leashing a vicious pet. Aviators are put back into place before she fires the grinder’s saw to life with a brutal rev, the scream of whirling metal ready to bite into anything that dares come close. Her eyes gleam with eager delight, already savoring the chaos she’s about to create.

She braces her free hand high on the pole with legs spread in a firm stance, body angling in a commanding silhouette. With a single dragging motion, she presses the spinning blade against the pole. A storm of sparks ignites and bright bursts of fire scatter across her thighs and hips, reflecting wildly in her sunglasses. The sparks dance on her skin, gliding over the shimmering runes that wind down her core.

Then she lifts the grinder and brings it directly against the metal bra. She arches her back into the contact, chest thrust forward and head thrown back. Sparks spit forward in radiant bursts, the motion of her shoulders directing the fiery spray in mesmerizing, body-shaped waves.

She releases the trigger and stalks toward the front edge of the stage, reaching behind her with a taunting pull and, *snap*! The clasp releases, and the metal bra drops with a solid, echoing thud against the floor, leaving her bare from the waist up. Pierced peaks catch the spotlight as she lifts her chin and locks eyes without flinching.

She sinks to her knees and spreads her legs wide, showcasing the provocative shine of the metal between her thighs. The grinder snarls back to life in her hand as she grins. Oh yes, this is going to happen.

One long, vibrating rev ripples through the room before she lowers the spinning blade to the metal thong hugging her hips. A VOLCANO OF SPARKS erupt instantly, bursting upward and outward from between her thighs in a dazzling cascade. They scatter across her dark blue skin in scintillating bursts, then arc off the stage toward the audience, cooled by the air and harmless when they drift across bare cheeks and arms. The peril is all performance, but the pleasure is entirely real.

She undulates her hips into every burst, the motion slow and deliberate as hair whips behind her in time with the grinder’s snarl. Each spray of cold fire illuminates the long, powerful lines of her legs and the shimmering glow of her runes, tracing every curve as if the sparks themselves are worshipping her body. 

The music slams into its final filthy beat. She releases the trigger and the machine dies mid-spark, leaving a hiss of cooling metal. She kneels unashamed and exposed, pausing just long enough for smoke to curl along her skin like a lover’s touch. Then her lips curve into a satisfied smirk and she rises to her feet and bows.

November DWC 2024 Day 6 - Crack tw: death, blood

~Years ago~

Ellarielle stared down at the dead body of her husband as a variety of emotions welled up within, but the one that prevailed was horror. There was no doubt in her mind that he was dead, and she wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about it. She swallowed and looked up to her twin sister, Vienyos, both bloodied, battered, and in shock. 

Arlior Esh’ul was one of those men that was perfectly charming at first: Intelligent, well spoken, confident, and quite wealthy given his noble standing. The Descatoire twins had come from the noble class themselves, although not quite as prominent nor as established as the Esh’uls.  Both Ella and Vie studied vinification and worked at the Twilight Vineyards, although Vie’s real passion was in singing and could often be found doing so in various clubs all over Suramar. It had earned her the nickname ‘The Suramar Siren’ and she had become a sought after addition to any grand soiree. Ellarielle was content with a simpler life. She and Arlior had been a good match, set to carry on the lineage for both families and were, for a very long time, seemingly happy.  Vienyos knew better, and as time passed the signs became more and more apparent, especially after Arlior proclaimed himself a loyalist to Grand Magistrix Elisande when she allied with the Burning Legion. It wasn’t a surprise, the majority of the nobility had done so given they were already awarded and cared little for Suramar’s lower classes. But that was not how the Descatoires were raised, and they had found that their purpose in life was to aid those less fortunate than themselves. They happened to be just in the right place at the right time to do so.

“Wh…why did….what…” What do you even say after watching your sister murder your husband of thousands of years?

“Ella, he was going to -kill- you.” So maybe cracking a meat tenderizer against the back of the skull multiple times was overkill and made things messier than they could have been, but it was the most readily available weapon in reach of Vie. Plus, he was abusing her sister, and likely had been for a while, and she was no longer going to stand for it. Ellarielle was too much of a pacifist to take it into her own hands. “He was hurting you, I couldn’t just–”

“No, no…” Ella rushed over to her side and cupped Vie’s cheeks before pulling her into a tight hug, “You did the right thing. You …you saved me…thank you. There was no other choice.” She wasn’t going to make her sister feel any worse for doing what had to be done despite the currently mixed emotions. This was the man she loved, or had loved, for so long. They had built a comfortable life together, even if she had been sneaking around behind his back as a part of the rebellion. It wasn’t right to let anyone wither when she had access to the very source that would allow that not to happen. Unfortunately, he was too smart and had too many spies to not find out, but she was not prepared for this. She released Vie and wiped the mix of tears and blood from her cheeks, straightening her gown as she looked back down at the dead body, “What do we do?”

They weren’t exactly schooled in how to dispose of a dead body, but surely someone within the rebellion would know and be able to help out. Both women looked at each other and spoke in unison, “Margaux.”