[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tQN01FwRfbY[/youtube] Deeper into madness yet. The toxic arrows of eros, envenomed with such a smiting that one kiss leaves one smitten. To devour the lotus and think of Nought, how far the fairer daughter of Laertes went to fetch her crew, but found them in such macabre embrace. The veil of life and death, fluttering in those awakened eyes once more. The rebuke from Jill nothing more than a laughable scolding compared to the tongue lashing Koan had bestowed. The damage was done, it was fair that she chastised them both for being poison to each other, feeding off the insanity of the other in a mutilating mutual madness. Yet in his silence the umbramancer said nothing to Jill who had dejectedly turned and left the pair to their bad romance. What crimson trickles had anointed them? Surely the others in the group would be able to tell of the vicious acts inflicted upon each other. But as their last encounter had failed to entertain 'Sauron' or Koan and sate their sadistic bloodlusts, maybe they were made to be, someone crazy enough to withstand Koan's wanton urges. [i] This will never end, because I want more. More, give me more, give me more... [/i] In his smiling silence, he partook in the jester's embrace, clinging on to her as she did him. A sloth of lust and claws digging into his side and back, the thrill of future pains delighted his damaged body so. To indulge in such exquisite agony, perhaps that was there was left to tingle the lost spirit. The need to harm and be harmed, the twinge of pain a fierce reminder of how alive you are. For the dead feel nothing, and to feel anything was better than to feel nothing. And perhaps, in a way, the twisted mind worked out that the pain was his punishment, an absolution for abandoning his purpose. And why not enjoy the burning waltz through purgatory with your Beatrice? Or better yet, as her angelic blue arms suggested, with Koan. Oh how the single finger continued carving across her body, tracing a line down the midsagittal as if cutting the fool apart in his arms. His talon had sliced the beating black pitter-patter, rejuvenated by his touch once like a quick cardioverion. How insidiously sweet the ebonpyre of the Fallen's burning eyes gazing over, the finger turning into fingers which brushed across Koan's waist before with a grunt took his Lilith in stride. The droning beat of the bass to the rush of blood... Dropping... Dripping from the mouth and chin unto chin and neck. [i] If I had a heart I could love you, If I had a voice I would sing... [/i] With a cutting step, he parted the waters, falling footsteps guiding along his Pandora into the devil's labyrinth as story-crossed Virgil. A deliberate slow dance, as tantalizing as her touch was, there was a loyalty in restraint. The hand at her waist caressed Koan's hip catching her to follow, the calm of the storm's fury, the unseen movement of the crushing tides rolling away beneath the sea. How too did the dark Aasimar and the Drow roll forward, one foot at at time as he lead to her suggestion, eyes madly involved with her as the empty treasures of the vault were long since raided by greed. So what of it? Both were near death, listlessly their bodies cried out for rest to resolve their aching sores, yet more did their lusting minds desire, pushing the other into boldness and stupidity out of that tainted love. This was merely the beginning, a prelude to come certainly with 'Sauron's' slow but steady approach, enduring it all was half the battle and half the fun. She had given her insights, her wild nature fickle and unrestrained, but now... Now it was his turn to show her the cruelty of tempo. She had surrendered herself to him did she not? Thus march on, to the stage to entertain their captive audience, with the practiced stalking of a death bringer. Feel the wake in passing shiver as they enter, the chill in the watery air. Look what darkness do the waves bring... [i] after the night when I wake up... I'll see what tomorrow brings... [/i] The enveloping saline was peppered by a bruised black and blue bindi, dancing and relishing an oozing crimson mandala betwixt them as it swept further, ever near the ogled inquisition, borne on seductive pinions as the Beholder questioned the beheld blonde behind bars. Cleaving to the armor of obscurities, she lifted herself, still bound in his hoisted grip, sailing and eyeing above all as a sapphire queen, mimicking a foreign royalty, that of a sultry Sheeba enticing a Solomon of shadows. Safe words remained unspoken by the duet. With fastened vermillion borders, she slid back down into his squeeze, pushed and pulled into the comprising cover of his writhing tendrils. After some twirls and dips, the byzantine tango seemed to linger, as if their listless footsteps conversed with the listening darkness, farther ahead. The sound of paddling eavesdropped into an orgasmic beat, interrogating the presence of a marid, of which the glacial Bledig promised. [i]Ah. Ah. Ah. Ah.[/i] The ruffled legs jaunted to and fro, shuffling like muffled roars of falling waters. The indigo buffoon provided no sign of seduction, not desiring the head of her baptizer as a reward. No, the capricious Salome welcomed the azure taint of Loki, the blue devil that riddled her smiling face. Her fishy cheeks darted up and down like a school of labyrinthine paraplesiops, failing to race away from Sauron’s smoldering members which had already kindled her glowing waist with embers of subdued enmity. She pranced not only as his Jezebel but a tragic Cleopatra to this ever expansive troupe, the nemesis of prophecies and a koan of courtesans. The jester hoped that his silent heart did not pity her, but rather pirouette and skip to an arrhythmia of his reunited Lucrezia. Compared to the courting of his cardiac contention, her deliberations concluded… [i]If I had a voice, I would sing.[/i] As the pale moon makes her sacred circles around the patient power strides, perhaps one could pause and admire the zen between them. The dancing fool, heart happy leaping with bounds at arm's reach, twirling her dancer's dervish. The dark lord, brooding shadow cutting a path through with his plodding march. One fast in ecstasy, seducing, the other slow in meditation, admiring. To feel her presence, flitting and flirting around him, to feel his gravitas drawing her into him. Indeed like the moon the Drow mistress was locked, and with her final smiling spin, the sapphire succubus was taken once more by the shadows from whence she came. Captured with arms around her catching her, yet not holding her close to his heart as he once did when it all began, but letting her momentum tip the jester back into his tendrils. Lifting her was easy twice-fold for the lady was lithe and the waters were supportive, and despite the weary kiss the warlock managed to lift her up on the altar. Hands caressing through her shoulders and back before settling on her dancer's abdominals, unbeknownst filled with the source of her chaos. Muscles primed and flexed to lift the dark angel on high, ascended from the shadows of Hell, there she could strike a pose as she desired, as Koan's body became parallel to the invisible ground for a moment of rapture. There his eyes gazed up, chin tilted to worship her shadow and his hands felt the strange mass within her. But he thought not of it under her wings, for was it not a glorious sight to behold her and pay no mind to the interrogating beholder? [i] Dangling feet from window frame Will I ever ever reach the floor? [/i] And the moment passed, to which back into his embrace Koan would find herself lowered, slowly pulled down as hands climbed across her form and drew her in. The Fallen behind her, pressed into her back and tilted to her left ear, as she was to his right. A mouthless whisper, unspoken utterances shared perhaps by mewling. The dance coming to a close as the hands drifted down and away, releasing Koan to be free to spread his darkness into the world. Jill, Cynthia, Adrevz, Dyn... And a missing pesky lizard where did the mystic wander off to? Did they miss her scurrying off like a thief in the night as they waltzd in? And who was this prisoner who distracted the eye for but a moment to be accessed as a threat to their dance? Nevermind it seemed Jill and Dyn had things done, yet now the scales were tipped towards Jill's command, and a mutiny without the kobold would surely fail unless the shadows could corrupt the blonde again Jill. But for now, 'Sauron' was pleased with their dance, at last the madness completed. Sins forgiven, atoned by pain. [i]More, give me more, give me more[/i] Was the merfolk envious of their huddled command, willing to exchange her whole world to glimpse into their cohesive soul? The wisped promenade punctured the poverty of the pallid proximity, devoid of gold, ransacked by the audience’s avarice. [i]Crushed and filled with all I found.[/i] Anemic of loneliness, the mood of creation abstracted them from the sallow sea, poignantly painted as Noriam’s smoke tickled her lungs, driving further into the abyss of her carnalities, soothing their constitutions with the physical poetry each scribed on their own chamberless partitions, which splashed within their jetted humors. The waded funks prompted notes of inevitable certainty, vivid and momentous as the cobalt hurricane circumscribing the fallen Aasimar. The comic’s fleshly graffiti tiptoed as a revolving ballet. The immersive iconography span as lights beneath her sutured abdominal fascia suggested the jazzy mobile was afoot. [i]Underneath and inside Just to come around More, give me more, give more [/i] Stitches renowned of a witch, constraining the birth of a deux ex machination, appeased by the sanguine sacrifices felt on its umbilical gates. Blame espoused the atoned anguish, as their feverish foxtrot, as do all bad things, came to an end. The blue sorceress bellowed in regrettable sorrow, as her frail head leaned heavily upon his lead’s clavicle, panting. [i]Ah ah, ah ah. Ah ah, ah ah. Ah ah, ah ah.[/i] Weakly, her inky mob melted with igneous and congealed congeniality. The gaggle of gangsters, her hips and lap, finally arrested as her gaze razed the sheep in ferine garb. [color=ed1c24]“If I had a voice, I would sing.”[/color] Another gasp. [color=ed1c24]“Only for you.”[/color] Ah how the shadowy muses grin.