;;god's blood

[The Morrigan]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, width: 500px; height: 700px; background: url(http://i55.tinypic.com/2w7g5sm.png) no-repeat, bTable][atrb=style, height: 199px; vertical-align: bottom] they stab it with their steely knives but they just can’t kill the beast

[atrb=style, height: 402px; vertical-align: top] The sharp end of one talon pierced the thin layer of red, red skin, juice flowing in wake of the wound. “Apple.” She spoke the word as if it were the most profound in all existence. “Apple. Apfel.” Her eyebrows raised at the memory. Harsh voices speaking a harsher language. “Apfel,” she repeated, before sinking her teeth into the fruit. The taste graced her tongue; she salivated at the delectable mix of tang and sweet and the lovely crunch, even under assault from her fangs. She spat it out. Sweetness was not what she sought. Not today. There was a taste in her mouth but she could not identify it. Today was a foggy day. Today, she wanted… she wasn’t sure what she wanted. That was why it was cloudy. Demon guards, more there for aesthetic purposes than true guarding, shifted uneasily as she ran her tongue over each individual fang, slowly. Foggy days were unpredictable days. Days when one might get disfigured simply for being there. “Human!” she howled. The guards in the room jumped at the outburst, but she leapt from her throne, laughing. “Human! I want human!” She reached out, dragged her talons across the face of one of her guards. To his credit, he did not flinch, did not move to staunch the sudden blood flow down his face. The Morrigan, however, was off on her own tangent. “Human…” she mumbled, a low growl in the pit of her throat. “Human.” “Your majesty!” announced a guard as he entered the room. She reached around, one hand gripping his chin and tilting the top of his head to her bosom, exposing a length of pale neck. “Human,” she murmured still, barely brushing over the surface of his neck with her talons. “We don’t have any humans here, do we, dear?” “No, your majesty,” he said, voice muffled by the iron grip still holding his chin. “I could send someone to get cattle from the vampire queen, I suppose. But… I can’t remember her name.” The guard swallowed, not sure whether to provide the name or the news he had originally come to announce. He opted for silence. Finally, the Morrigan’s eyes focused somewhat. “You had news for me, yes?” “Yes, your majesty. Leda waits outside with two new arrivals.” The Morrigan released him, clapping her hands together. “What a dear! I suppose it’d be rude of me not to at least say hello. Though…” Her eyes darkened. “I could have sworn I only sent her after one.” She remained there for a moment, hands still pressed together before her, eyes black, face devoid, before shaking herself as if from a memory. “No matter. All the more fun for me, I suppose.” She started outside. TAGS: zanga, mukluk, leda WORD COUNT: 457 NOTES: apfel + human = breakfast

[atrb=style, height: 125px; vertical-align: top] template by jawn of AA, OTE, DMB and TC

[MukLuk]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, z-index: 3; position: relative, bTable]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style,border: 13px solid #FFFFFF; margin: -250px 0px 0px 70px; width: 450px; z-index: 2; position: relative; -webkit-box-shadow: 0 3px 5px #888; -moz-box-shadow: 0 3px 5px #888; box-shadow: 0 3px 5px #888;, bTable][atrb=style, padding: 10px 10px 10px 73px; background: #e8e5ff url(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v630/iridescentjohn/Tarnishes%20Cycles/bg-circles.png); border: 1px dotted #ccbdcf;] 99 BOTTLES OF BEER TAKE ONE DOWN, PASS IT AROUND 98 BOTTLES OF BEER ON THE WALL “You guys are depressing travelling companions!” MukLuk announced, now perched upon Leda’s back as they flew towards Mount Olympus. I shudder to think of what you define as cheery travel companions.

[/b][/color]

“At least one round of ’99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall’!” she shouted, obviously incensed at the lack of group singing.

Were I to sing for a prolonged period within your mind, your orifices would begin to bleed, starting with the nose.[/b][/color]

“Not my fault you have a horrible singing voice. I mean, so did Marilyn Monroe, but you didn’t see that stopping her.” Muk pouted.

Leda only sighed tiredly. We near Mount Olympus. MukLuk, I must request you not speak any of your nonsense to The Morrigan. Better still, do not speak at all. It will be better for all involved.[/b][/color]

“I bet you’re just worried she’ll be up for a round of ’99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall’.”

I worry more for your limbs being kept in their proper places. Recruits are worth more to us alive. She finds recruits less manageable when they are alive and talking nonsense.[/b][/color]

Muk huffed. “Please. You know as well as I do that if I can grow back anything I want to.”

Leda sighed again, emerging through a layer of clouds and into clear view of Mount Olympus. Muk gasped, sitting up.

“You know, for demons, I expected… doom and gloom. Blood and skulls and such. But that’s… beautiful!” She looked down at Leda. “What, are your decorators just lazy?”

Leda swooped down, fast enough that MukLuk was dislodged and sent flying into the air, soaring next to her as an eagle moments later.

“Unnecessary!” she shouted, but Leda was depositing Zanga carefully upon the ground before landing herself.

Here we are.[/b][/color]

And out walked the Morrigan.
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[tr][td][atrb=style, background: #ffffff; color: ccbdcf; font-family: Georgia; padding: 0px 5px]WORDS ● 299 TAGGED ● zanga NOTES ● mount olympus, SON
TEMPLATE ● jawn of AA, OTE, DMB and TC[/td]

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[Ghost]

~Mount Olympus~

[/u]


The trip turned out to be much shorter than expected. Zanga didn't expect for the tendrils of wings to carry them so fast. The clouds were extremely dense at this altitude, making it hard to make out anything below or off in the other directions.

“You guys are depressing travelling companions!" Muk blurted out, killing the silence. The demoness countered her with a remark.

“At least one round of ’99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall’!”

"Fuck no.", Zanga said bluntly. Nothing more annoying to him during trips is people singing road trip songs. Last time he decided to take a bus because he wanted to be lazy, this idiot decided he wanted to sing that song with his friends. Caused a ruckus on the bus. Their ride ended early. Zanga bashed the ring leader's skull into the bus window while the others watched in horror but remained quiet. You could imagine what the other passengers were doing. Gasping and staring with wide eyes, like deer caught in headlights. He promptly stopped the bus and got off, not wanting to deal with the glances he would get and whispers he would overhear.

Not that he would do that to Muk, but he'd deal with it one way or another if she decided to sing. Do his famous trick, blocking everything out. Everything. He could hear nothing, he would see nothing he didn't want to. He'd feel nothing.


"We near Mount Olympus. MukLuk, I must request you not speak any of your nonsense to The Morrigan. Better still, do not speak at all. It will be better for all involved."

“I bet you’re just worried she’ll be up for a round of ’99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall’.”

Oh God no. The Morrigan singing road trip songs with Mukluk. His worst nightmare. The thought was rather disturbing, but he emitted a teeny chuckle under the wind.

They emerged from a large patch of clouds and the beautiful testament of nature stood within their view. Mount Olympus. Created by and for the Gods. Unmoving, beautiful. Zanga's emerald eyes scanned the mountain and all it had to show. Like Muk commented, he too expected something a little more... Dark. Considering Mother War now resided and hung over this mountain like a dark shadow. If one didn't know about The Morrigans whereabouts, one would never suspect she was here of all places. Mountain of the Gods.

Leda swooped down, launching Muk off, but placing Zanga gently onto the ground. But Muk was fine. Just a scowl on her beak and a shout "Unnecessary!" before landing herself.

He was lost in the beauty of his surroundings, before suddenly, the vibe had changed. He got a chill, looked before them. The Morrigan was walking their way.

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[The Morrigan]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, width: 500px; height: 700px; background: url(http://i55.tinypic.com/2w7g5sm.png) no-repeat, bTable][atrb=style, height: 199px; vertical-align: bottom] they stab it with their steely knives but they just can’t kill the beast

[atrb=style, height: 402px; vertical-align: top] His scent was both exquisite and repugnant. Exquisite in that it was new. It was interesting. Repugnant in the fact that it was so dreadfully reminiscent of countless half breeds before him, slaughtered for their impudence but treasured for their apparent power. She did not know if he would follow the tradition set by those who came before him, but she never claimed to be a soothsayer. With a frigid smile, she spread her hands out in a gesture of welcome. “Greetings, Zanga. Welcome to Mount Olympus. From here, the Gods once kept their eyes upon helpless humanity.” She strode forward until she and Zanga stood face to face, eyes raking over his sharp features. “Do you know the greatest folly of the Gods of that time?” ‘That they trusted their creations,’ Leda provided for him, dipping her head in respect. ‘Mi’lady.’

[/i]

“Quite so, Leda,” The Morrigan said with a show of sharp teeth, focusing on Leda for a brief instant. “It is good to have you home.”

‘It is good to be home, as always. As you will notice, I have brought another along with me. A shifter. The Halfling demanded she not be left behind.’[/b]

The Morrigan turned to observe the shifter, who was watching her with wary defiance in her eyes.

“I bid you welcome, Shifter, though I see it does little to assuage your fears. I implore you to cast away this apprehension. The Gods of Mount Olympus award loyalty.”

The shifter hesitated before bowing her head. “Of course,” she said, though it obviously cost her something to do so.

“Now then,” The Morrigan said, turning her attention back to Zanga. “I am sure Leda has explained a great deal already, but allow me to try and clear the air.”

Her eyes had become remarkably more focused; Leda inwardly sighed with relief. It was for the benefit of all that she show them her lucid side today.

“You will serve me as a subject. You will travel where I instruct you and perform the tasks I assign you. These tasks could vary greatly; most often, you will be scouting and gathering information to report back to me. As more time passes, however, and you prove your loyalty, the range of your tasks will broaden.”

She gestured for him to follow her, walking into the throne room and through a door to the right. It opened to a long corridor of white marble with doors marking either side at even intervals, various apartments for subjects of particular interest.

“You will room here, in the palace. All necessities will be provided for. I’ll be sure to send someone along to help you get settled.”

“And me?” MukLuk said.

The Morrigan eyed her impassively. “I didn’t account for your coming. I suppose you’ll have to room with Zanga. Either that, or use your unique talents to roost outside.”

She turned, eyes growing cloudy once more. “I have other business to attend to now, so if you’ll… excuse me.”

She strode away, murmurs of ‘apfel’ trailing behind her.

TAGS: zanga, mukluk
WORD COUNT: 508
NOTES: hurr
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template by jawn of AA, OTE, DMB and TC

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[Ghost]

The time had finally arrived it seemed. The Morrigan approached, and a shiver slithered down his spine. He'd never felt what he was feeling right now, at least not in a very long time. Most people didn't strike not one spark of fear in him. However, The Morrigan had a history drenched in blood, pain and agony. She was one of the biggest figures in our world today. Ninety percent of the time, an encounter with Mother War meant instant, guaranteed death. Zanga was always the fearless, lone wolf that didn't take any shit from anyone. But in order to live and become stronger, he had to kneel and bow down to someone now. He had to succumb to another's command for once in his life. He had to play the dog now.

“Greetings, Zanga. Welcome to Mount Olympus. From here, the Gods once kept their eyes upon helpless humanity.” said the demoness as she approached ever closer. Until the two were face to face. Her voice sounded less menacing than he had thought. He nodded, making sure to keep direct eye contact when she spoke to him. “Do you know the greatest folly of the Gods of that time?” she added. Before he could answer, Leda answered for him.‘That they trusted their creations,’ she answered, "Mi'lady."

“Quite so, Leda,” she demoness smiled, and welcomed Leda back. "It is good to be home, as always. As you will notice, I have brought another along with me. A shifter. The Halfling demanded she not be left behind." Leda added. It irked him to be referred to as "The halfling". It made him feel lesser than everyone else, to have one foot in one world and a paw in the other. He couldn't help what he was. And sometimes he cursed his parents for doing this to him. It almost seemed like they didn't consider the fact that half breeds were looked down upon. Considered lower and accepted in neither world they were combined into. But that is why he came here. Aside from the reason that he wanted to make a name for himself, be it bad or not, he wanted to show everyone that half breeds were not to be underestimated. He wanted to display the power hidden underneath the skin and persona that he held. And that he was not some run of the mill halfy.


The Morrigan went on to explain Zanga's focus as of yet. He was to take certain tasks and complete them promptly. For now he would serve as a sort of intel and collect the information asked of him for her. Until he proved his worth he would have to deal with these small tasks. When he proved himself, he'd receive more difficult tasks he assumed. He could only imagine the work he'd have in the future. But he'd make it know that every single task would be complete down to the littlest, tiniest detail.

She gestured for him to follow her and he did so without question. She guided him to an area in which he would room. Muk was not expected, so she did not have a place. But Zanga didn't mind the suggestion of her bunking with him. He couldn't make her stay outside. Only after she annoyed him to no end until he literally exploded in a wolfish fury like no other, then would he give her the boot. But even then he would feel horrible after a few hours. As much of an asshole as Zanga was, he wasn't heartless. Aside from that, he was naturally a social creature, though his demeanor would make one conclude otherwise.

On the way through the place, Zanga kept his line of sight straight ahead to avoid looking like a total newcomer. Glancing, oo'ing and ahh'ing at everything. Instead he investigated with his peripheral vision. He didn't catch everything in detail, but all in all this place wasn't a complete dump. In fact, it was quite nice. He had hoped his room included a shower or something. Because he hated going more than a day without one. It irked him more than it would other men and made him irritable and self-conscious.

The demoness turned and padded off. “I have other business to attend to now, so if you’ll… excuse me.” she said. Zanga briefly turned his attention to Muk, making sure she hadn't wondered off to bother some poor soul that wasn't him.


Notes:

[/color] Need a template!
Tagged:[/color] Mukkeh, The Morrigan
Credit:[/color] Malone z10.invisionfree.com/CAUTIONTOTHEWIND/index.php?showuser=4934
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[MukLuk]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, z-index: 3; position: relative, bTable]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style,border: 13px solid #FFFFFF; margin: -250px 0px 0px 70px; width: 450px; z-index: 2; position: relative; -webkit-box-shadow: 0 3px 5px #888; -moz-box-shadow: 0 3px 5px #888; box-shadow: 0 3px 5px #888;, bTable][atrb=style, padding: 10px 10px 10px 73px; background: #e8e5ff url(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v630/iridescentjohn/Tarnishes%20Cycles/bg-circles.png); border: 1px dotted #ccbdcf;] AND IF YOU SEE MY REFLECTION IN THE SNOW COVERED HILLS THE LANDSLIDE’LL BRING IT DOWN Leda had smoothly reverted back to her human façade at some point and now gave a slight bow to the pair as they stood before their apartment. “I hope you find everything suitable. If not, there are various attendants through out the palace; seek one out and relay your concerns. For the moment, farewell. I am sure we will meet again, and soon.” And then she was walking away, the epitome of grace even while just getting from point A to point B. It went without saying that Muk had a considerable difficulty not snarling at the retreating back of the demoness, and an even greater difficulty not fleeing from the place entirely. The only thing that kept her rooted to her place in the hall was the fact that Zanga was taking it all in stride. The only ripple in the surface of his impassivity was the world Halfling, which clearly seemed to ruffle his metaphorical feathers. Shifter ruffled hers a bit more literally, but she didn’t bother with getting offended; she’d been called far worse, though never by worse types. Demons. They just reeked of bloodlust and decay. Such needless destruction, wanton slaughter. What was it all for? Well, what was any of it for? Humans were just as destructive, just as prone to slaughter and bloodlust, weren’t they? Not anymore, she reminded herself, and then ended that train of thought as Zanga was looking at her. “Well,” she said, after an awkward moment of staring. “Let’s take a look. Make sure they don’t think corpses count as house warming gifts.” After taking a deep breath, steeling herself, Muk opened the door. And then blinked. Once. Twice. “Wow.” It was decadent. The bed was enormous, piled high with feather pillows, silken sheets, comforters soft as angel hair. The carpet was thick enough that she felt like she was walking on clouds. There was a kitchen, small but equally resplendent, and a large bathroom just visible through a door in the back. She caught glimpses of both an enormous tub and a towering shower. “Huh. Wonder which demon was the interior decorator,” she said, weighing each step as if she expected the floor to collapse beneath her. She made her way to the fridge and opened it up, taking a careful peak inside. It was mostly filled, with food that didn’t look like it had been dug up from piles of rubble. “Man, these demons have to be hooked up! Look at all of this!” She was looking through the cabinets now. “Apple Jacks, Cream of Wheat, Grits, Chicken Noodle Soup, Carrots… Holy shit!” She squealed loud enough to shatter eardrums. “Macaroni and Cheese! Macaroni and Cheeeeeese!” She was now doing the happy dance across the entire length of the apartment, a blue box of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese clutched to her bosom, squeals punctuating her every bound. Finally, she flopped onto the bed with a final contented sigh. She would murder children if it meant she got Macaroni and Cheese.

[atrb=style, background: #ffffff; color: ccbdcf; font-family: Georgia; padding: 0px 5px]WORDS ● 502 TAGGED ● zanga NOTES ● muk excels at the social TEMPLATE ● jawn of AA, OTE, DMB and TC

[Ghost]

Soon Leda had left them to their room. The demoness was truly graceful even as she excited from their presence. Never had Zanga met a more interesting bunch of people. Mukluk, who was a bubbly and easily excitable shifter. Leda, the knowledgeable right hand of The Morrigan, and probably Muk and Zanga's soon to be 'babysitter'. And The Morrigan herself. There really was no way to describe her. She was her own category.

Mukluk broke the silence soon enough, “Well,” she said, after an awkward moment of staring. “Let’s take a look. Make sure they don’t think corpses count as house warming gifts.” She had a point there. Demons were certainly strange creatures of which would never truly understand. Their customs were far different than Werewolf and Vampire traditions. He knew nothing about how they truly operated, their thought processes. They had complex names and probably even more complex social statures. All he could go by is what he could see, hear, and smell about them. Which was a lot of information for a wolf to go off of anyway.


Muk opened the door and they both made their way inside. It was much, much nicer than he had expected. He was expecting some dark dank cave setting with a rickety bed in a cold wet corner or something. But instead he got angel hair soft blankets and feather pillows, soft carpet and a kitchen full of food considering Muk was dancing across the place like a mad woman. His mood seemed to left exceptionally as he glanced around.

Zanga walked over to the bed and plopped back onto it. The blankets were soft on his back and put him in a sense of tranquil as he closed his eyes and sighed contently. Zanga loved nothing more than sleeping. And with this bed, he would sleep better than ever. If a person were to see Zanga on a regular bases 95% of the time he would probably be sleeping.

“Macaroni and Cheese! Macaroni and Cheeeeeese!”

Muk continued to cheer and dance all about. "Muk shut up."

[/i] he mumbled. All that traveling made him sleepy. And when he was tired, he was more of a dick than usual. Most people would cop an attitude back, but knowing Muk she would probably just poke fun at her.

Notes:[/color] Tired Zanga is Tired
Tagged:[/color] Mukkeh!
Credit:[/color]COURTASTIC ?!
z10.invisionfree.com/CAUTIONTOTHEWIND/index.php?showuser=6626
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[MukLuk]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, z-index: 3; position: relative, bTable]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style,border: 13px solid #FFFFFF; margin: -250px 0px 0px 70px; width: 450px; z-index: 2; position: relative; -webkit-box-shadow: 0 3px 5px #888; -moz-box-shadow: 0 3px 5px #888; box-shadow: 0 3px 5px #888;, bTable][atrb=style, padding: 10px 10px 10px 73px; background: #e8e5ff url(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v630/iridescentjohn/Tarnishes%20Cycles/bg-circles.png); border: 1px dotted #ccbdcf;] I’M JUST A STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND, RUNNING OUT OF TIME I BETTER GO, GO, GO (angel of demons, came from my soul) Zanga flopped down on the bed next to her, suddenly looking weary and worn, like underwear that had been washed too many times. “Shut up, Muk,” he muttered, though there was no heat behind it. Her squeals died in her throat, and her lips twisted into an expression of contemplation. “What, Mac and Cheese not your thing? I think I saw some Beanie Weenies up there, if you’re that kind of guy.” She chuckled and gently shoved his shoulder before rising and skipping into the kitchen to replace the Macaroni, saving it for a celebration. From there, she continued her skipping into the bathroom, before the porcelain bowl of their sink. With some apprehension, she twisted the hot water knob, worried that some sort of monstrosity would ooze it way out of the nozzle. But no, clear water ran into the bowl, warming up faster than she was prepared for and burning her eager fingers. She adjusted the temperature and then washed her face, the steam working its way into the inner workings of her mind and leaving everything nice and objective. This demonic situation wasn’t necessarily one of pure danger. Obviously, they had some desire to make them comfortable and not kill them, and Zanga was useful. Obviously, the Morrigan had some idea of her abilities but hadn’t demanded them be put to their full capacity. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as she thought. Either way, she wasn’t leaving Zanga here to them. If they suddenly decided he wasn’t worth all of this, she was getting him out of here, whether she died in the process or not. Some things were worth protecting like that, she knew. Zanga was one of those, precious not only to her but to this war. She was no soothsayer, no psychic or teller of fortunes but she knew that at some point, he would be worth more than she ever could be. Dripping, she moved to the unnecessarily fluffy towels and dried her face and hands, feeling much more lucid and significantly less terrified. Zanga was still on the bed when she emerged. “I sincerely hope you don’t expect me to sleep on the floor. I mean, I’ll shift into something smaller if it makes you comfortable, but that bed is much too good to pass up.” And, just as the words left her mouth, she performed a neat bellyflop right onto the piles of comforter and pillows with a satisfied sigh, ready to fall asleep right then and there. It had been a long journey.

[atrb=style, background: #ffffff; color: ccbdcf; font-family: Georgia; padding: 0px 5px]WORDS ● 410 TAGGED ● zanga NOTES ● bedflop TEMPLATE ● jawn of AA, OTE, DMB and TC

[Ghost]

His body begged for a little R&R, but the wolf inside him remained uneasy and on edge. This place was new. It felt new, it smelled new. Unfamiliar territory. Danger. The word echoed on and on in his mind. His wolf exuded feeling of uneasiness and fear for his future. Not fear of The Morrigan and her underlings. But fear for change, what he might become. Would Zanga become any different? Change was almost always a dead give away for something bad. Zanga relived that lesson over and over in the nightmares that manifested themselves in the dark pits of his mind as he slept.

Muks voice snapped him back to reality. “What, Mac and Cheese not your thing? I think I saw some Beanie Weenies up there, if you’re that kind of guy.” Obviously Zanga took that the wrong way, grabbing a pillow and smashing it into Muk's face in a swift motion before she escaped his range of pillow tossing terror. "If you eat all the food before I get any, I'll eat you instead." And then some beeny weenies? No? Okay. Not that he would really eat Muk. He practically considered her pack by this point. Something that Zanga hadn't felt for a long time. The feeling that only a pack bond would give you. Of course, they hadn't yet established that pack sense yet. But the spark and potential was certainly there. Mukluk was a shifter, so she wouldn't exactly have to suffer the feeling of being out of place.

But soon that feeling of uneasiness seeped it's way back into his mind. He couldn't seem to shake that something might happen to him. Or more importantly, Muk. If he were to lose another person precious to him, he would most certainly break and tear himself in two. Due to his past, he was a truly unstable individual. Complicated and unpredictable were his actions around others. And if you didn't know him very well you probably would never understand why he did the things he did, or why he did them. Mostly due to the fact that he was a halfbreed. Scum in the eyes of others. But over the years, he's learned to block out the scornful eyes of others. A mental barrier and a defensive presence about him. Other people either didn't understand him and feared him, or were interested but kept their distance. Muk was different in a sense that she was able to see through his stony poker-face, break through and bring out the voice that lay dormant inside him for so long. Perhaps one day she'd even see his actual form.

A growl interrupted his steady drifting into the land of sleep. Not from his throat but from his stomach. How long had it been sense he ate? Or fed? As a half breed, he didn't always need blood. Solid food would hold him over longer than any vampire, but he still required the crimson liquid. If not, he'd unintentionally and inevitably throw himself into a bloody frenzy on the level of which couldn't be stopped. Not unless he was subdued or drank his fill of blood until he passed out.

Muk said something or other about shifting into something smaller so she would have room on the bed as well. Her voice was seemingly drowned out. He rubbed the side of his face groggily, half asleep. He might've even interrupted her sentence. "Hungry.", the tone of his voice was tired and sluggish. He really needed some sleep right about now.


Notes:

[/color] Hungry wolfy
Tagged:[/color] Mukkeh
Words: 575
Credit:[/color]COURTASTIC ?!
z10.invisionfree.com/CAUTIONTOTHEWIND/index.php?showuser=6626
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[MukLuk]

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style,border: 13px solid #FFFFFF; margin: -250px 0px 0px 70px; width: 450px; z-index: 2; position: relative; -webkit-box-shadow: 0 3px 5px #888; -moz-box-shadow: 0 3px 5px #888; box-shadow: 0 3px 5px #888;, bTable][atrb=style, padding: 10px 10px 10px 73px; background: #e8e5ff url(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v630/iridescentjohn/Tarnishes%20Cycles/bg-circles.png); border: 1px dotted #ccbdcf;] MY MOUTH IS DRY WITH WORDS I CANNOT VERBALIZE TELL ME WHY WE LIVE LIKE THIS "If you eat all the food before I get any, I'll eat you instead," Zanga growled in his typically ill-tempered way, throwing a pillow with surprisingly good aim. “Unnecessary,” she huffed, smoothing her hair before replacing the pillow. “And I’ll have you know that I happen to taste horrible. Shapeshifter blood is only a delicacy to vampires.” She stuck her tongue out, blowing a raspberry, before remembering he smelled something like a vampire himself. Well, guess it was a good thing she could regenerate, then. She flopped upon the bed and rolled onto her side, eyelids growing heavy. The bed seemed to grow softer, and she found herself bringing her knees up to her chest and sliding one arm underneath the pillow, her customary sleeping position. On the street, in the forest, in piles of hay, this was how she had slept. It made her feel safe, warm. Like as long as she stayed curled up in this ball, nothing would harm her. She heard a slight growl behind her, Zanga’s stomach protesting its lack of food, Zanga groaning in displeasure at being roused from near-sleep. “Hungry,” he muttered. She snorted, with her eyes still closed. “Me Zanga. Me hungry. Me kill dinosaur.” But she rolled over to face him, one arm wrapped around her knees. “Well, there’s food in the cabinet. Unless…” She bit her lip. She didn’t want to become cattle and if he was anything like the other vampires she had known, she might have to forcibly stop him. But he wasn’t starving and he seemed to retain most of his senses, even while hungry. She held out her arm to him, the sleeve falling back to expose a thin wrist, blue veins visible through the pale skin. “You kind of smell like a vampire. Do you need blood? I regenerate pretty quickly, so if you need to, you can feed off of me.” Man, that sounded a lot less weird in her head.

[atrb=style, background: #ffffff; color: ccbdcf; font-family: Georgia; padding: 0px 5px]WORDS ● 410 TAGGED ● zanga NOTES ● bedflop TEMPLATE ● jawn of AA, OTE, DMB and TC

[Ghost]

A Shapeshifters blood is only a delicacy to vampires aye? He was half vampire after all. And the thought of tasting her blood dashed across his mind. But he perished the thought. Zanga hated feeding. Especially from his friends. He feared he'd not be able to stop himself and kill Muk. He'd always been afraid to do such a thing with any of the people he loved, and there weren't very many of those as it was. Instead he decided to counter with a remark of his own. "Yeah well I doubt any full vampire would want your blood. It probably tastes like root beer. "

[/i] he never really liked root beer. The taste to him was nothing less than awful on his tongue. "Root beer and dork." he added smirking slightly.

Muk flopped onto the bed and curled up with a pillow under her head. The sound of Zanga's roaring stomach interrupted her drift into slumber before it even began. “Me Zanga. Me hungry. Me kill dinosaur.” she mocked him. Zanga brought another pillow down on her, this time twice. Then once more for good measure. He had no remark this time, he simply huffed and put his pillow back under his own head.

The bed may have been of decent size compared to normal beds in normal houses, but Zanga could still smell the blood running through her veins. His body knew what it wanted. Not solid food, but the crimson liquid essential to sustaining life as a vampire. As much as he hated feeding this way, he had to sooner or later. If he chose not to, his body would reject any and all solid food intake altogether. Until it was satisfied with the blood of another, he could face becoming frenzied and dangerous. Should this happen, The Morrigan would not hesitate putting him out of his misery. He sometimes cursed his parents for doing such a thing to him.

Before he knew it, a hand reached out in front of him. Mukluk was offering her blood to him. Hesitant, Zanga thought for several moments. He wasn't sure whether he would be able to control himself. In the end, he decided against it. "I dont want to. I dont know if I'll be able to stop...", his eyes portraying his emotions very clearly. Zanga spoke through not expression, but his eyes.

Second thoughts began to conjure in his head. He was starting to think declining was a bad idea. And again, his eyes showed that much. Zanga hoped that it didn't come to the worst of results.
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Notes:[/color] Hungry
Tagged:[/color] Muk!
Words: 422
Credit:[/color]COURTASTIC ?!
z10.invisionfree.com/CAUTIONTOTHEWIND/index.php?showuser=6626
[/center]

[MukLuk]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, z-index: 3; position: relative, bTable]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style,border: 13px solid #FFFFFF; margin: -250px 0px 0px 70px; width: 450px; z-index: 2; position: relative; -webkit-box-shadow: 0 3px 5px #888; -moz-box-shadow: 0 3px 5px #888; box-shadow: 0 3px 5px #888;, bTable][atrb=style, padding: 10px 10px 10px 73px; background: #e8e5ff url(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v630/iridescentjohn/Tarnishes%20Cycles/bg-circles.png); border: 1px dotted #ccbdcf;] I'M SO FAR GONE NOW I'VE BEEN RUNNING ON EMPTY DO YOU WANNA TAKE ME ON? "Yeah, well, I doubt any full vampire would want your blood. It probably tastes like root beer." He smirked. "Root beer and dork."

[/color]

She gasped and smacked his arm, eyebrows lowering, lips pouting in mock offense.

"My blood tastes wonderful, thank you very much!" She stuck her tongue out before adding as an afterthought, "And I happen to like root beer."

And then he was beating her with a pillow for mocking his caveman speak. She blew a raspberry at him before glaring at the few tendrils of hair that had dared to fall in her face, blowing at them in an unsuccessful attempt to move them. She huffed and brushed them behind her ear. Disobedient little tendrils. They would feel her wrath.

But she had more pressing concerns, like Zanga's thirst. She could nearly feel his hunger radiating outward from him, like body heat. She knew her blood sloshing through her veins would become like a song to him, that her abnormally fast heartbeat would speed up his own. It pained her to know that he was suffering and she could do something about it.

But he was unsure.

His eyes showed a silent battle raging within him; with no clear conclusion in them, he met hers.

"I don't want to. I don't know if I'll be able to stop..."[/color]

But as he trailed off into silence, she knew his hunger was surging within him. She could see it in his eyes, that uncertainty, that raw want.

She wasn't entirely sure of what she was offering herself. She had never been bitten before; no vampire had ever partaken of her blood, at least, not while she was conscious to feel it. She'd heard different accounts of the sensation, none of them exactly desirable in Zanga's presence.

But he was hungry. He was hungry and she was here.

But her blood could be like a drug to him, like it was to some vampires. Then she might have to physically stop him, and she didn't want to hurt him. She didn't want to lay hands on her friend, not if she could avoid it.

But he was hungry, he was suffering, and that settled the matter.

She pushed her wrist to his lips more insistently, letting out a huff of impatience. "Zanga. Drink. I regenerate faster than you can slurp, I assure you. Just drink."

She closed her eyes, waiting for the sensation, whatever that turned out to be.

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[tr][td][atrb=style, background: #ffffff; color: ccbdcf; font-family: Georgia; padding: 0px 5px]WORDS ● 436 TAGGED ● zanga NOTES ● thirsty for a muk?
TEMPLATE ● jawn of AA, OTE, DMB and TC[/td]

[/tr][/table]

[Ghost]

Muk gave him a totally serious look. A look of which he never figured her capable of. Muk was always smiles and giggles. He could tell right out that she wanted this, and she knew what she was doing. Pure intent to help burned in her eyes and he could hear the remainder of it in her demanding tone. "Zanga. Drink. I regenerate faster than you can slurp, I assure you. Just drink." she said, holding a wrist to his face. He instantly turned his face away from it, shutting his eyes and hoping instinct wouldn't drive him from utterly mauling her. But he wasn't in that stage of hunger just yet. He would be though, if he didn't take her up on her kind offer.

He sighed loudly through parted lips, running a hand over his face. "Fine. But I dont wanna hear whining about it later." he said jokingly, "Oh it hurts. Oh Zanga I think its infected thats so nasty." he teased, the pitch of his voice high and cracking annoyingly like a man's voice would when mocking the opposite sex.

Zanga sat up, stretching slightly. It felt like he was lying down for hours when in reality it was only a few minutes. These beds would work wonders on tiring nights. He braced himself to do what he abhorred oh so much. Biting. Drinking. Feeding. No matter how you put it, it sounded nasty. To him anyway. Maybe it was just the wolf inside declining the vocabulary of its natural enemy. It was only natural for wolves to hate vampires so much. It was always that way. Always fighting between the species. Vampire and Werewolf could never live in harmony in these times it seemed. However, there were some individuals who didn't partake in such trivial matters. Some of them went by wise words of the past. "Hate injures the hater more than it injures the hated." Zanga didn't exactly see it that way. But it was something that often crossed his mind.

Shaking himself back to the real world, away from his ever troubling thoughts, he turned his focus back to Muk and her offering. It was time he fessed up and did what he had to do to survive. At this rate he was risking the well-being of them both. Zanga's sanity and Muk's physical health. He took a breath and grasped her arm lightly in his hand. Like a full blooded vampire's, he fangs grew, poking the inside of his lip. That was always slightly irritating to him. It irritated the gums and gave a slight pain. He wanted to get it over with quickly, biting into Muk's wrist, not caring if he hit a vain or not. The sweet, red liquid entered his mouth regardless, the taste dancing on his tongue and pushing him to go on.

A few moments more. Just a bit more, he thought. Stop. A voice echoed in his head. Interrupting his state of absent minded bliss. It wasn't exactly a voice. An entity without a voice but spoke with emotions from inside. The Wolf that lived inside Zanga. But he shrugged it off and continued. Stop!!! The voice boomed like loud speakers turned up as high as they could go. Zanga was pushed out of his blissful feeding by it and pulled his fangs away from her wrist abruptly. He almost went overboard. Exactly what he was afraid of. But luckily, he didn't go off the edge like he thought that he would. Like Muk encouraged him he would not.



Notes:

[/color] Yum?
Tagged:[/color] Mukkeh!
Words: 580
Credit:[/color]COURTASTIC ?!
z10.invisionfree.com/CAUTIONTOTHEWIND/index.php?showuser=6626
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[MukLuk]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, z-index: 3; position: relative, bTable]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style,border: 13px solid #FFFFFF; margin: -250px 0px 0px 70px; width: 450px; z-index: 2; position: relative; -webkit-box-shadow: 0 3px 5px #888; -moz-box-shadow: 0 3px 5px #888; box-shadow: 0 3px 5px #888;, bTable][atrb=style, padding: 10px 10px 10px 73px; background: #e8e5ff url(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v630/iridescentjohn/Tarnishes%20Cycles/bg-circles.png); border: 1px dotted #ccbdcf;] DON'T EVEN TALK ABOUT WHAT'S RIGHT OR WRONG OR WRONG OR RIGHT 'CAUSE IN THE END IT'S ONLY YOU AND ME "Fine. But I don't wanna hear whining about it later." His voice shifted to a high pitched nasally whine, apparently trying to imitate a female. "Oh, it hurts. Oh Zanga, I think its infected, that's so nasty."

[/color]

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, puh-leeze. My wounds do not get infected. And if they did, I can assure you that I would not whine about it. Especially not if it were from a vampire bite. Honestly."

But now he was eyeing her wrist, at first hungrily, then warily, and then somewhat angrily, as if he hated this need within him. But why? It wouldn't do him any good to be pissed off about being half vampire. But then, that was Zanga; angry at the world. She felt bad for him in a sense, but knew that if he found out, that would just piss him off as well.

But finally, he reached out and gingerly took her arm in his grasp, inching forward, lips parting to reveal large fangs she was certain hadn't been there before. His breath caressed her bare wrist for an instant before he sank his fangs in and began to drink.

Her thoughts faded in light of a sudden pleasure hot in her veins. Her head tilted back, her mouth fell open; she wanted to speak but she couldn't manage a coherent thought. Her lungs, her hands, her fingers, everything within her was suddenly on fire, alight with whatever it was flooding her senses with every drink Zanga took from her wrist. A gasp escaped her as his tongue grazed the bite before he continued drinking. She wasn't sure of anything, couldn't think, could hardly even breathe, because she was lost, lost within this.

"Oh, Christ, Zanga," she managed before being pulled under again.

When he finally pulled his teeth away, she collapsed back onto the mound of pillows, gasping as if he had been suffocating her rather than drinking from her.

"What..." she tried to catch her breath. "What in the hell... was that?

Every fiber of her being suddenly rang with longing at the loss of that touch, even while the stinging pain in her wrist reminded her that too long and there would be nothing left within her at all.

Had he known it would feel like this? Had he purposefully kept it from her? Out of cruelty? To keep her coming back?

"If this was some kind of trick..." she tried to hiss it, tried to sound angry, but it came out like a plea.

She bit her tongue in shame. Shame that she had enjoyed it. Shame the she missed it now. Shame that she had let it happen.

Shame that she wanted to let it happen again.
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[tr][td][atrb=style, background: #ffffff; color: ccbdcf; font-family: Georgia; padding: 0px 5px]WORDS ● 1685 TAGGED ● zanga ! NOTES ● oh lawdy! >:3
TEMPLATE ● jawn of AA, OTE, DMB and TC[/td]

[/tr][/table]

[Ghost]

The sound of that voice, the barking of his wolf ringing in his ears. He was so very discombobulated at this point. It was unbearable almost. Muk was just as out of it as he was. She gasped as if someone had just released a death grip on her neck. "What..." she tried to catch her breath. "What in the hell... was that?" He had no answer. The feeling on both ends of the bite were probably two very different experiences of which neither of them could find the words to explain.

He stared blankly at the sheets, trying to catch up with his own breath. The taste of Muk's blood still mingling in his mouth. He couldn't deny the fact that he wanted more. He wanted it all. Not just a little. Not just a tiny sip more. But every drop of blood she had in her, he wanted. He knew he couldn't do such a thing. To commit such a crime was against him. Beneath him. It was the way of a wild and uncaring soul. He shunned the practice of draining people until they slipped away from life itself. But sometimes the hunger was unbearable. And sometimes he just didn't care. Humans were but food to him. Though he hated drinking from anything at all, humans were an exception. He despised them already. However Mukluk was not human. And he could never blatantly kill her and feel nothing.

"If this was some kind of trick..."

If she didn't intend that to be the way he imagined, than he was about to get pissed over nothing. But the words sort of formed without him thinking them out first. "You liked that?"

[/i] he said, emerald eyes narrowing and becoming even deeper in color. "I dont like biting people as it is and you think its a trick?" Lemme guess, want more?" he continued, a German accent thickening in his irritated tone. His accent always did so when he was extremely flustered or upset. But it remained thin enough for people to actually understand what he was saying. However Muk was doing the complete opposite of what he was afraid of. It was what he wanted. But not what he wanted.

Not being able to say anymore, he just sighed irritably and lay on his side, facing away from Muk. Somewhat of like a child would do when they were upset with someone. He could be mistaken, he hoped he was. But it sounded to him like she wanted more.
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Notes:[/color] Sexeh
Tagged:[/color] Muk!
Words: 411
Credit:[/color]COURTASTIC ?!
z10.invisionfree.com/CAUTIONTOTHEWIND/index.php?showuser=6626
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