wotanon | Dreamers After Dark (VII)

Oh, don't get cocky.

[ just the slightest duck of her head, scuffing her shoe idly through the oily stuff as she looks down and away: ]

I just find monsters who insist they're not to be intolerable.

[ another stuttering chuckle. ]

You are herrrre. You came to mmmee.

Why?

...I don’t know.

Maybe because I didn’t know what would be here and wanted to find out. Maybe—instinct.

I get hungrier than I used to.

[ Rumbles, a thoughtful noise. ]

No food forrrr you herrrre.

Seems not.

[ she scrubs a hand over her face, briefly, and then—takes a few steps closer. ]

I'm not sure what I want.

[ lowers her head, a bit, to be more at hope's level. ]

You'rrrre surrrre?

Don't look at me like that.

I'm probably not very tasty. I've been dead for over a hundred years, you know.

[ Huffs. ]

I don't want to eat you.

Well, good, because I'm pretty sure you could just kill me.

...it's just, that scent is...

[ exhales a long, hot breath against her, watching expectantly, silent except for the occasional drip of viscous liquid from their flesh. ]

[ she just—freezes, for a second, like a rabbit sensing danger and poised to run— ]

Fuck.

[ then her face contorts into a snarl, fangs bared, and she wraps her arms to the extent that she can around Nychta's neck and uhhhhhhh goes for the throat. ]

[ Her neck is thick enough that her arms can't completely wrap around, though she may be able to dig her fingers into the scales. nychta leans back slightly, seemingly out of bafflement, but only rumbles a growl that reverberates through her body.

the blood that flows from her neck-- only slightly, her skin is thick-- is the same as the liquid that seeps from her: oily, unpleasant on the tongue. A harsh chemical tang that isn't apparently through scent.

But maybe, just maybe, it helps. ]

[ augh it's gross.

and honestly that sort of half-snaps her out of it—though that's not the point, even if it does help. the point is that something in her really just wants to tear something apart when she has feelings that are not 100% under her control. it's inconvenient.

she sort of just. ends up hanging off of her, holding on by her fingers. ]

...awful.

[ another rumbling chuckle, sitting back on her haunches and moving an arm under Hope's thighs for her to sit on without hanging. ]

Don't knnnnow what you expected.

Why can I never kill something when I want to kill something, these days.

[ also, the bite has completely sealed up?? ]

I'mmmm verrrry harrrd to kill.

You didn't rrreally trrrry.

I'm—

...getting whatever this is out of my system.

It's the next best thing that's bearable.

[ she shifts, a little uncomfortably. ]

[ a rumbling hum, thoughtful. ]

Could eat you out.

[ that's close enough to mauling, right ]

Oh, fuck off—

[ although it's sort of... more said in the tone of swatting a fly, rather than actually biting. ]

That's—

[ it comes out slightly more breathy and needy than she anticipated; she shifts again, and it's—well. it's a different kind of hunger, and she hates it. it's really illegal that she can't be in control of her impulses 24/7. ]

[ those claws curl, slightly, at the shifting, pressing lightly into the underside of her thigh.

She makes a questioning noise, prompting, as she tilts her head down as much as she can to snuffle against Hope's back. or close as she can get, anyway. ]

Nnh—

God, I'd really go for it right now. I don't know what to do with this.

[ A rumble of acquiescence, leaning all the way down to lay her out on the grass and remove her claws. ]

Might rrrip clothes. If you don't take themmmm off.

[ dry, exhausted: ]

You're a gentlewoman.

[ she kicks her shoes off into the grass and—after a moment of hesitation that feels longer in her head than it actually turns out to be, starts loosening her pants. ]

You said—I'd never have to worry about losing control around you.

[ not quite accusatory, more just—ironic. ]

[ A long pause, watching her.

Then an uneasy grumble, taking a few steps back. ]

Then don't.

...yeah, okay.

I didn't have sex for probably a century so I'm—a little... weird about it, but—

[ she just, scrubs a hand over her face again. ]

I won't.

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Re: cw for implied cannibalism/vore/whatever

Re: cw for implied cannibalism/vore/whatever