Dark Reunion.

[Uli Kathandros]

The infinitesimal worlds that he saw beneath him changed and warped as time ebbed and flowed, marking only the passage of life itself beneath the dichotomy of black and green that served as his eyes. Restlessly, he paced through astral halls and across eldritch bridges, basking in both the power of His place and of the cacophony of discord that permeated at the hands of his new station. The Reaper that before had been his master was slain beneath his own hand, destroyed and reborn again in the image of his murderer. Again and again, the cycle of August repeated, the test eternal upon his former people marking out their immemorial evolution.

Reflection.

What am I, but Death incarnate? The faceless aspect, the Tormented One, upon whom to all restless souls shall come.

Gone, were the whispers that had crawled within his skull, marking him out as the hand of another.

I have ascended. I have become all that once controlled me.

There is nothing left but what I was meant to be. What I was born[/b[ to be.

Wild strands of unkempt hair dangled about his pale face, half obscuring the wicked scar that cut across his right cheek. Quite suddenly, those occidental features scrunched up and his eyes narrowed. Across near-omniscient senses washed a presence so familiar; so saccharine in its warmth -- one of the only sparks of life that had ever tantalized and teased him in a way to leave a being so puissant as He completely bereft of reason; drawn completely into such a presence.

Atra.

How long has it been, since I walked beneath the skies of that land, striving and searching and seeking...?

...Too long. Since before the time. Since before I found myself torn asunder at the thought of losing forever that, which has shaped my life eternally; and given unto me more pain than I have ever known through all my lives that I deign to call my own.

It was a simple thing, to tear open the planes and transport himself elsewhere. One moment he stood placid in the heavens, watching those below with the detached radiance of a deified being; and the next he stood below, far, far below. The sound of the air he displaced rushing outward in all directions as the only indication that he appeared. Around him billowed the black trails of his cloak and robe, formless and ever shifting in the way it enraptured him. It engulfed the lithe form of his body, featureless save for the pendant that hung from his neck. Death's head hung there, and crossed beneath it lay a scythe and a shortsword -- his own, personal crest.

"Salve, pulchra." Uli Kathandros grinned on the heel of such mellifluously spoken words.

[Kain]

Amids't the chill of an eternally frozen heart, a scent, the merest twitch of nostrils bound in torpor then eyes snapping open to reveal the pupil-less void behind those lids, lips curling into a snarl as fangs of obsidian nightmare exposed themselve for the first time in years and a single word uttered from the pallid lips "Atra'Lamia" then chuckled the sound a gutteral and subteraenean echo of time past. Sitting up inm a flowing motion as if he had merely rested for moments.

Now laughing for the name upon the breeze was not the name that should be called. Reaching for cigerette, a habit he had picked up in his travels across the timescape, lighting it, taking a deep and satisfying draw, then on the last exhalation of smoke... "Fools" flicking the ash away from him... "they claim to know her yet they can't even get her fucking name right... pathetic... At least I know what her name is, and  none of these crazy bastards could ever make me speak it" At this Kain took another draw of the cigarette then started laughing, in fact he laughed so hard that he fell with an ominous thump to the stone floor beneath where he had lain in torpor. "Fuck... so much for medieval language... so... now... I need a wench... nothing like sucking on nice fresh wench for breakfast... anything to get the dust off my palate and I take great umbrage at being awoken without a fresh and juicy wench by little boys and their littler toys."

Kain slowly stood, the expression on his face pure murder, he could smell death but death, well what a joke that was after all, there was only one being whom Kain had ever been concerned over killing him and it wasn't any of these puny samples, no... it was her, the goddess herself. Extending his auspex, blood pumping through the ancient veins, to see whom was moving in the land, whom was seeking her, one whom smelt of the merest sample of her, a whampyri whom believed he had rights to her and one whom seemed to believe himself beyond death. What a joyous little ensemble, qall they needed now were fucking monkey suits and violins and that would take care of the evenings entertainment. Why would any in their right minds call the goddess, firstly not even by her true name, but also with such weakness so visible. After all did any of tehm even know what she was, for that matter Kain pondered, did she even know with all that had befallen her. He knew damned well that he had given up trying to work this out back in the days of Egypt... Goddess was close enough without getting offensive.

Binding his thoughts in a fashion that only she whom was above could percieve he allowed the utterance of her true name with the mental bow of one whom serves to be sent along the narrowest of pathways, let none try and percieve his thoughts for Kain was the truest master of the hidden and only one being had the ability to read beyond what he chose to reveal, which sadly was not one of the cocks of the rock strutting in the arrogant belief of knowledge like horny peacocks waiting to pounce on a single hen. Again Kain laughed, for the hen they chose to follow could just as easily dismember, disembowel or simply be disinterested.

Perhaps they should learn not to put all their cocks in one basket, but then, such derived passions, such huge egos could lead to chaos and bloodshed in which case Kain would certainly be in his element. Eagerly awaiting such violence, in fact the perfect setting came to mind, a small table on a high place overlooking the scene of such joy, a wench, throat bared on a pristine, virgin table cloth,  fine cigar and a single black rose adorning her naked body and a second place set for the goddess should she deem to show herself for she would too enjoy such light and frivolous entertainment. Now... Kain needed to make sure things were in readiness, the sacrifical pool ready and full, a saucy wench for light snacking in the meantime... and perhaps some little gift of a screaming virgin to please the goddesses ears. Flicking the stub of his cigerette away and moving into the depths of his hideawy to begin his preparations...

[The End of All Light.]

Ah, what a sweet embalmer of toxic influences which gathered like a burlesque assortment of misfit and renegades all with the intention of proving something, be it supremacy, statistics, aptitude or past ties- perhaps out of frivolity, foolishness or genuine attachments. Who could really say, only those congregating new of their true intentions and agendas with entering this cursed and forgotten place long condemned unmitigated damnation; for it wasn’t a true place in  every sense of the word, instead a conjured thought, illusion or mirage from an amused mind observing and gloating over the prospect of another singular embrace in destructions welcomed arms or the prolific entertainment in dying worlds all screaming in concerto at the very possibility that anything was indeed… possible- nothing could be predicted, only assumed and that was a very dangerous pastime to endeavor.

Black wafts of darkness and shadows swept across the charred landscapes that now began to bloom with new life, flourishing like the once beautiful biblical Eden before perishing at the hands of ingrates and lesser beings. Could such healing hands be yielded by the nurture of destruction? Why would such a grandiose being stop to revive things that really didn’t exist save for a feeble notion of materialistic value? Would this very act soothe the aching heart, restore the meaning of soul and essence or was it simply a display of withheld power to lure, attract like a beacon for the moth? Surely only such a being himself would know the answer of true hidden potential and meaning. A valuable lesson that would some day prove to be a laborious burden on every sense and emotion unless he professed to have neither; yet again the thought would spring from the epitome- why waste time healing when you can just as easily destroy?

Plethoric chthonian wreathes swirled with the oncoming tempest, ephemeral talons raking to tear asunder the earth, raping, licking with those carnivorous winds incensed with the pungent sweet stench of rotting corpses; inflicted with pestilence, scourge and despondency… melodious names offered to the elements like deficiency of their resolve, determination and spirit yet none uttered that simple syllable that would make all the difference of manifestation, coercion and compelling to heed without any trickery or false apparitions. In all hindsight it was quite entertaining to the nefarious psyche… the possibility of bloodshed, war and bitter enemies; after all every one needed a foe to make their meager existences more… worthy of conflict.

To make the veins boil with hatred, loathing, denunciation and ultimately elimination of one of the two, perhaps even more if such manipulations were in order, which would be the first chosen... the child to a bitter ending, the lover bequeathed by already supped sinister passions or the one who claimed his masters power for himself and now reigns above all life as a god? Hmmm… decisions… decisions… how could one possibly choose just one out of three promising evils? Darkness once tasted was a delight already enjoyed, betrothed promised laid to waste like a garland of black roses over a tombstone, past affiliations of worlds yet to taste the burning lick of flames and swords? Each had their own objectives to obtain, seek and learn- however one had more advantage than the others and that was simply due to status… of recognition.

They had by their own wills traveled here to seek a myth, perhaps they would leave disappointed… or never leave at all… it was all down to the genesis flip of a golden coin. Fate could be a blessing or destiny of misfortune, especially for creatures already marked by the seal of the forsaken, the children of the damned doomed to walk the earth forever unsatisfied at what they have obtained or strove to become… a monster is always a monster no matter how well it is masqueraded to appear like an angel or godsend. Gilded with beauty, ornaments and paint upon the outside, it doesn’t hide the rotting beneath along with the sin that remains as its constant companion. A lack of erudition or comprehension tainted their minds… so why adorn them with omnipotence, no oracle was ever revealed out of sympathy or a kind-heart; two traits that SHE herself didn’t possess nor give false pretense to state the contrary.

With the howling, harangue winds inflicting obstruction in mild refutation… an inkling would be a granted accolade of the essence sought above all else- just a fuse of that blackened-malignant decadence; a snippet of ambrosia to be supped and imbibed… to taper on the perceptions like stitches slowly breaking from the seams only to fray before evaporating into nothing and the impending sense that what was so easily created could just as easily be destroyed. That was left to personal interpretation, no pieces of the puzzle would be volunteered, if achievement is what was desired, then preparation to work to achieve it should be more than just a flutter of rapid heartbeat and a fleeting thought within the mind- or a name whimsically spoken to the winds only to travel to ears of the dead and never be uttered through stitched decayed mouths.

Not even the dead were permitted to speak that name… not even the most virulent of necromancers could determine it or have the means in which to speak it, with mouths full of brambles and maws stitched closed by silent crosses; fingers dismembered from hands with coffers filled with sand. None of the dead held much pleasure in counting every grain of sand and inflicting their souls with muted screams to be heard, desecrated ground never bore tombstones or religious markers… it was just blackened earth surrounded by jagged mountains of charred, burnt, destruction… so how would one determine? In all recompense, it seemed their was only one living who knew the name and lucky enough he chose to remain his tongue from wagging it only to have it burnt from the orifice of his own mouth by a million suns. Maybe Kain could not die, but he sure as hell could suffer like anyone else, painfully yet surely. It was common knowledge that Kain was a lover and not a fighter… he was definitely no threat, not immediately but certainly humorous with his tactics.

The descending embodiment of Uli did come as a surprise, for why would such a deity of grandeur taint his presence with this dissident place simply for a chance interlude? Oh the decadent thoughts which sprung like a fountain of the more piquant sweeter wines, invading the maelstrom of all these other presences… somewhat jaded and shaded by their own contaminations on her burning, shadowed gossamer wings. The question remained to decipher, avatar or true materialization? It really did not matter in the slightest… it was all one and the same, just one far less reverential and courteous than the other. However, a dark, dulcet chuckle did evade those iniquitous sanguine-scarlet apertures as they curled into a fiendish grin… a proffer of elucidation and revelation… if she herself spoke the name it would repudiate them of any dominance even if they should speak it in retort in order to cheat their own ignorance.

Xae’Lucretia... ouch! that hit the heart-strings... or would have if there was any to pull; and Atra- merely sobriquets given in adoration or reverence… both less potent than the name given on creation by the motherly hands of darkness herself; Black Madonna, Lilith at the very vexation of Lucifer- however it was far darker seeded than the obvious for with all life comes evolution… and advancement much the same as hero may become a god; an event that could not be disputed through millennia of foul deeds and corruption of lesser insects. Puny and easily manipulated; asinines who thought they meant anything to her acrimonious heart, except for one and that was so many eons ago… long faded to more useful and beneficial desires and needs… forgotten for there was nothing less required than that of matters of the heart for they made one weak, inconsequential to glory and at his death those ideals were greatly proven. They differed, were she would have rather kill than kill herself for their betrayal… that in itself was a proven weakness; at least in her mind’s eye.

Eclectic obsidian eyes peering through the shroud of darkness, shadows and thick amalgamated mists now retreated back into the fathomless void, chthonic tendrils weaving about those long, alabaster limbs like hissing pets caressing naked contours exposed from the tiers of black gossamer lace and the constrictive tourniquet of black leather bodice and skirt panels that covered her stature scarcely. Silver clasps of demonic symbolism held the attire about her curvaceous lithe hips and the triangular panels of leather twixt cleavage- bat wing sleeves swathed around her arms and wrists only to accentuate the  resplendent silver satirical finger amour honed to deadly precision. Ashen, intense wintry features macabre but unspeakably magnificent to behold should any be granted the portentous veneration.

Forever physically darkness, inky, amoeboid patches of shadow regardless of the presence of light, even that would not dispel the squamous masses only to trap all inside totally obscuring light and even sound to an extent, overlapping fluctuating shadows stretching them to create patches of darker gloomy shades… only to separate shadows from their casting bodies and augmenting darkness into things that are truly not there… surrounding, contracting, restricting with serpentine like viciousness. Mystically tangible while under her sole manipulation, the temperate rising to hellishly sweltering, cloying to drown gathering awareness in order to disorientate- the darkness aggravated, choking the masses of warriors marching over these forbidden lands. A callous loving hand grasping around throats only to pull those unsuspecting into the thicket of the darkness… where only blood-curdling screams could be heard… then unnerving silence…. then again, those inciting screams of brutal agony.

Victims regardless of station or ruling… fallen to the heated demise of the ‘Blood Raven’ a small gift for this little party, a sordid coup of unrelated coincidences… ribs cut away to the loins, not enough to kill, but enough to keep them alive and howling. After the removal of the ribs, invisible hands reaching in through the lucid warm cavity, twisted, gnarled teasing to the inner organs before lungs were forcibly extracted through the gaping orifice allowing the victim the slow leisure to choke to death. What a gluttonous orchestra to be heard, a lilt of choking choirs accompanied by skeletal scores of violins shrieking through the discordant elements. Was it a means to frighten, to install that terror even into the bravest of immoral souls? No… it was no means to provoke terror in those gathered who bore station, but certainly their little pets should be alarmed… for next it just may be their lungs harmonizing in the wind-song or trying to breath through the slits in their throats. None would see her coming, unless SHE wished it so, regardless of ties or bonds.

Hospitality… cohesive beyond their comprehension, nothing becomes of nothing, and nothing can be made of nothing; it was one of those diminutive riddles most failed to perceive. Rising from the darkness like a poignant siren ready to slice those very throats, wings of opaque blackness and miasma parting to allow that swathed leather clad figure to merge… motion in a sway beguiled to voodoo, pendulum sway swinging hips gracefully as if instigating seduction not war- and yet where she was concerned both usually came hand in hand. Lustrous the darkness screamed, so hoarse in that cacophony of disharmony yet to her it was the sweetest thing ever heard. Smoldering heat exhumed the very earth by every step as if incinerated by a million fires… yet no chimerstry (conjuration) would be sensed no impending power displayed other than what awoke by her very presence, manifest to the flesh.

Appearing in the apex of all those gathering forces, coming to a complete halt in step only to remain standing with shoulders squared back as chin ascended high in a poise of grandeur… a nefarious smirk twitching at the corners of those blood-stained lips. Air taken back into archaic lungs only to plume one single word twixt lustful apertures as eyes narrowed in heinous contempt… a honeyed elegy intermingled with diablerie and torment. Barely flung upon a muted sigh, the timbre would carry to even the further regions of Naethyrn without hindrance by the myriad of tempests threatening to engulf the very land from existence. Iniquitous mirrors closing, lips pursing to verbalize… ivory white mithril fangs breaching the angelic arches before the void-gasped chuckle emerged, playfully mocking those futile calls. One word would liberate her from any bonds… any advantages they may have had now vanquished. O’soft embalmer of night… what a precious virtue to squander, bequeathed to a fiery kiss. “Ankhnesmerira!”

[Uli Kathandros]

I remember...

I remember what it was, to walk these lands, so puissant. Before I became this.

When I was but a hand, a puppet bound by macabre strings to the hand of another.

A most profane rictus twisted his face, giving gleam to the ivory incisors that lay beneath, waiting so hungry. His head tilted once to the side, bones cracking slightly beneath rippling flesh as his body adjusted itself to once more standing beneath the heavens, as opposed to being their master. It felt... good, to feel the caress of the wind across the flesh bared by his attire, and to feel the subtle pulse of the ground beneath sandaled feet. His eyes gleamed their amusement to all who would dare to stare into those of a killer, tried and true. A noble slayer, at times -- yet still a slayer.

The others present, they were felt, and glanced upon by the green and black. Gauged, categorized and judged in a time almost incomprehensible by even a preternatural mind. Even in times such as now, when he stepped out of his abode, the signs of apotheosis were clear -- all around him there radiated that presence, commanding in of itself and simply serving to a make a man that perhaps otherwise unassuming in feature, truly majestic. It was indeed, the body of the being, no mere avatar or construct sent in his stead. Any who could feel things beyond senses given to mortal man would know instantly, would feel the pulse of the divine godhead contained within a shell.

O, how shall the muse sing of us? Shall she sing of our pain, of our transformation? Of how poor little Lucius became cruel and pitiless Uli? O, sing muse! Sing of the rage of Lucius of the Valerii! Murderous, mankiller, fated to die! Sing! Sing, O muse!

That grin remained, twisting his face as a single step forwards was executed with a profound grace, and once more was that twisted face the harbinger of words;

"Long time, hrm?"

[Kain]

Having reached the living entity of worship to the pinnicle of perfection, the paradigm of circumspect revelation, the utmost peak of creations twisted sense of humour Kain opened his mind into the spheres of temporis in which in his study had defined that beyond which his kin could reach opening a pocket in which he had stored several virginal wenches in a torpor like state ready for this very moment. Choosing the ugliest for himself (and she was not ugly by any standard) he awakened the simpering youthful girls revealing to their minds via auspex their fates. Shrieks and screams filling the cavern as without further ado, he moved forwards and tearing their chest cavities open with razor sharp claws revealing their still beating hearts as they stood then throwing them forth into the blood pit as he uttered the divinities name.

The blood entity responding as kain turned, drawing the remaining girl to him slowly placing one hand to her forehead, pushing her head back exposing the delicate pale throat, veins a cornflower blue beneath the skin then fangs extending leaning into her final embrace and drinking of the sanguis delicacy within her veins. The thrill of innocent nourishment a rush like no other and Kain had tried all forms of rush in his time on twentieth century earth. No, no cocaine could ever beat the feeling of warm fresh blood. Dropping the emptied corpse (he had been hungry after all) turning to ponder then auspex revealing the actions of the child... Mind focusing to percieve what to all appearances seemed an aggresive build up of power, pondering the moment, deciding to let the boy have his fun and choose a course of action once this intent was fully revealed.

The perception of one deserving at least a grudgin respect, for Death in all forms deserved such and this one indeed was power to be reckoned with, there of his own intent and motivation, seemingly wanting nothing to which kain silently applauded, he could appreciate the subtleties involved. This one had a definate style which Kain found intriguing. Releasing the temporis, just in time for an overwhelming presence that could only possibly be one creature made itself known, darkness all enveloping, so dark that even Kain's preternatural senses could barely see his hand in front of his favce, stupidly taking a step forwards and stubbing his toe in the pitch blackness of pure midnight, stifling a curse for this would have been highly inappropriate then as the envelopment grew a shock.

A word... a sound that would be felt upon thousands and thousands of worlds, the taking, the utmost control, none other would ever utter her name in power or potency again for this to Kain was the very first time in any history that Anknesmerira had ever spoken her true name. It was like unto a million volts of electricity coursing through as the ancient connection was wrenched away and Kain for the first time in Millenia felt completely and utterly naked before her power. This was true omniscience and even the one whom had cursed him had never held this much potency. Kain trembled for the first that he could remember and from his lips two words would fall... "Oh Fuck" a pause then "Oh FUCK... finally, she has become..."

[The End of All Light.]

Standing out in the listless wilderness, indolent fissures within that penumbral darkness undulating and fluctuating about her statuesque figure draped in a callous fugue of amorous pets. Ostentatious elation felt within – at the relishing of the debauched scenery drifting back from dark labyrinthine forgetfulness… some reminiscence of conflict that had occurred here all those many years ago. Conceivably even centuries, marking a place with its runes of misfortune long before any of these creatures were birthed on sodden shores. A figment of her own pitiless imagination and subsequently forged from the vacuum of the void itself… all this meant nothing to her, an ascendant of requiring any form of land or title for merely sitting like a gluttonous peacock upon a shattered throne was long dispersed even before the gauntlet was run. If anything it was more to create a false impression of needing such ineffectual things for lesser beings because they couldn’t comprehend that power never came from property, it came from actions and the potential of will and intent to make it happen.

Shaking her head with an almost solemn gesture, though never knowing the true essence of the word in all its forlorn qualities; Brooding was for mindless neophytes with nothing to offer but their pathetic sombre aptitudes: Fervent qualities were never something to be admired only accord. Quite possibly they would stumble around in the darkness like blinded beggars to eventually find what they truly sought all the while losing the true essence of the question they craved… such instances eternally would prove nothing other then becoming a dogma to their inner – contempt. If it was this land these insects wanted, then that was the only accolade they would be given in abundance, and may they find the gratification in nothing but a conjured idealism, shaped and moulded into this desolate tract of bittersweet caprice.

Subterranean atramentous orbs slowly sweeping from the fading vision of obsidian spires; eyes infused with the reflection of mimicked masqueraded creatures dancing behind frosty mirrors… the waters of Lethe frozen in seizure… turning away from the tour de force of abjuration for once her back was turned she never looked back. Perceptions outstretched, the gathering or activation of power determined to be used against one who dwelled within this illusion by his own free will… not a pet, for if she wanted a pet it would be accompanied with bloodstained chains. A loyal aficionado was better suited in order of address. Again Kain was here by his own will, not because she chose or commanded him to be… he did after all possess a mind of his own, a thing not many in themselves could proclaim for most things were a slave to some form of master or desire be it lust or power… they were still a slave.

The power ushered by this new presence did profoundly reek of an older acquaintance… pulling within herself the familiar quintessence that only caused her head to slowly tilt to the right; exuberating in that familiarity in memory of the once beloved. The one she had promised her heart to and in all complexity that was never a misshapen lie, for he had received it for not since then had she loved another. Betrayals are forever the sweet wine of loathing… they eternally encompass the heart and soul with bitter regrets and sorrowful pangs. Useless. A promise broken… but time elapses all promises eventually, forever is such a brief glitch in oblivion and for some forever is a short period subject to their life span and for others it is a prolonged suffering of melancholy.

The essence had been that of Nicolai, unquestionable and unmistakeable, in retrospection she didn’t quite expect an inkling of her own essence to usurp the moment ”Interesting!!!” a snide and cruel smile forming to conquer the smirk that for the most had ornated her scarlet hued apertures. ”My… ! Nicolai… haven’t you been busy, has your little creation come to finish that which you yourself could not do… amusing my beloved… very amusing” of course sarcastically spoken and it was a rhetorical question that was it was in no need for an answer… it was absolutely amusing if not at toned down parody of sheer hilariousness. ”And here you come reigning at supreme number two…” Tongue licking over the bloodstained appendage of lower aperture as another presence took precedency over all else… for he was here and not marauding across the countryside whispering a sobriquet of far forgotten importance.

Swiftly turning, body pivoting with insubstantial grace so fluid in motion – shoulders turning as elegant features followed the eloquent revolution of miniscule waist and slender hips. Bringing those chthonian eyes directly into his… Uli… well wasn’t he a sight for sore eyes. One who bore no need to be here other then his own intentions for reinvesting closer acquaintance. His features inspired an unaccustomed smile and his words inspired many things, and perhaps even those far more depraved. But it all came down to a meagre few dulcet words ”Ahhh… but as they say my dearest Uli… all good things come to those who wait and even better things come to those who take!” Black eyes twinkling in the darkness, aberrant illumination so devilesque with amusement and undeniably even a sense of nostalgia…

[The End of All Light.]

Pleasantries were few and far between, or so it seemed… for this little moment was soon to be disturbed. Ahhh well! The pandemonium of deliverance should have been deceptive if not predetermined. That voice, the familiar bantering, stale words of bowing or forced revenance – either couldn’t have been further from the truth if he had known her presently; like the way he used to… as beings change… insects, man or beast… that was a fault with all metamorphic evolution. The smile fading slowly from those arcane lips at the spoken instant of the other name which complimented her other… Satrina. What a shame he had not forgotten it along with the memory of anything shared or any emotion that profaned her demeanour.

Dwindling on the path of the dangerous pipe dream to hold… grasp twixt failing hands… as it came with the bridge of a sigh while inquisitional nigrescent eyes rolled with blatant mockery while words unravelled the same acidic, sardonic approach ”Tisk Nicolai… really! Bowing or grovelling is for canines or beggars performing tricks, kneeling to receive a thrown scrap from the masters table. Complain? … No such trivial dissatisfaction has ever been uttered from my mouth; not even at your… misfortunate downwards spiral… oh excuse the slip of the tongue. Perhaps rapid leaving is more suitable… still even then I proclaim no woe betiding for maybe it was a blessing, and not bereavement. So… enough of the pleasantries Nicolai we both depart these feigned games for the world… your world… hang suspended by the slimmest of threads betwixt the travesty of all that has gone before and the mystery of all that is to come. Better to spool that thread? Or to sever it entirely?”

Shoulders shifting upwards nonchalantly at the mention of her own ‘flesh and blood’ and there was no need to go all maternal at the prospect… but, at least the whelp had enough determination to survive of its own accord, wasn’t that enough recognition? So why attempt this ‘happy’ family reunion now? It was a question all enquiring minds desired to know. ”There are too few who matter – their chance at worst passed them by. But tell me… what kind of foolish cattle walk so happily into the slaughter house?” Her attention languidly cocked towards the direction of this child of heathen followers, comrades… or jesters; then again languidly returned back to address the reflection rippling in front of her.

”I recognise association not the ties of lineage O’ Dear Heart… excuse me if I don’t faint with stricken grief at bygone years – it’s all fades to that erosion of insignificance. This is just too idiotic, even for you!” With that nefarious dialogue, frozen words uttered from the means of arctic heart… a malevolent sneer crossed those opiate poppy embellishments… sonorous concepts singing from every pore and turned aggressively portrayed stature. Eyes slowly moving from Nicolai’s visage only to narrow with hidden daggers… stabbing downwards to embed amongst the bloodied pools of mixed ash, blood and snow… glancing back upwards towards Uli then over towards the direction of the horizon where the child in question toiled on his own quest… a burlesque of coveted thoughts inspired that sneer into a more profound snarl of defiance… how dare he attempt to provoke emotion just by the incitation of his presence let alone this creation.

[Uli Kathandros]

Words washed across his ears, adding that sweet sound to the already building sense of nostalgia that warmed and grew within him. It had been a long time since Uli had felt that particular sense, having looked forwards for so long. Peering into the future and catching glimpses of his ultimate destiny had made him forget; the past, acquaintances and deaths, all submerged beneath the overwhelming sense of purpose that had seized him for a time.

Purpose is over. Our destiny fulfilled. Taken the mantle of August; become that which we crusaded both for and against.

...What now?

There had been times, recently, when the old sense of valor threatened to return. Had he not always been, at heart, a noble man? A good man once, was he. A good man fallen, he had become. A lofty man once, full of the greatest intentions. A good man seduced by those same intentions, led willing down a path into darkness by the whispers of power tempting him to even greater acts of wickedness until the shadow of the monster he had created to strike fear into his foes had come home to claim him.

Is that the truth?

Or is that how we lie to ourselves? The tale we woo ourselves to sleep with so that we can slumber with our conscience immaculate?

...Does it even really matter, anymore?

Perhaps, on some level, Atra threatened him. She teased a return to the utter lack of morality, the primal psychosis that had enraptured him wholly in years previous. A change from the ambivalent detachment that he saw everything with in the current day. Such sweet corruption could come quite easily, which also begged the question of why he had come.

Stop lying.

You know why.

At first, his steps forwards were those of a man. Feet measured their paces, one after another, with muscles flexing and tightening. Those steps, however, soon became lighter, evanescent. His body became possessed of a decidedly inhuman grace, each step light enough for him to be striding across water. Eldritch, arcane, Uli's movements could be truly ghostly when he wished them to be. He could move as though he was gliding on air, not a sound made, not a hint of motion. He was a living, physical shadow, practically invisible to the human eye, giving off no signature to the senses of others, making no sound of any kind..not a breath, not a heartbeat.

Those words taunted him, tempted him. His head tilted to the side as he drew himself up before Atra, arms extended out to his sides and with his palms facing out. He said but one thing, a ghostly smile wafting over his lips.

"Now why even tempt me with such a thought?"

And without warning, his wrists turned, and power flowed through him. Nothing so pedestrian as physical power, but rather the utterly flawless energies of the divine. It was drawn from deep within, and from high above, directed and shaped with an almost effortless series of thoughts by its Master, manifesting itself physically in a form not far from the romantic descriptions of liquid darkness. It was a shroud, drawn shut by the sudden raising of one of his arms, to perhaps isolate the pair of Uli and Atra for a time.

[Kain]

Watching, still stunned by the goddesses proclamation of her truest being, the utterance of that name the most hidden secret, no longer binding in any fashion except to herself had thrown Kain's world into amazement. Slowly recovering, a sudden thought had him doubling over in merriment for one single word had revoked all that had gone before, thus withdrawing her strength that only she herself lay at the loci and none could ever reach beyond excepting at her own decision. How would the foolish percievers of their own vain glory be to discover that in such simplicity Atra had lifted herself beyond their sordid little needs and into a place where forever she was beyond reach.

Stopping his mirth to again focus his auspex, not wanting to miss a word or nuance of this delectable soap opera, an effigy of 'Days of Our Lives' draped in a drag queens glittering Cubic Zirconia, all of the essence but in the end a mockery of realities happenstance, his brow furrowing in quiet fury, for did this one, this 'alice in Wonderland' wannabe peering through the looking glass of sordid recollection actually steal of her essence for the pathetic puppy that wandered in belief that he was a power. How dare the abominations creator do such a thing. This was no better then a rape of her most precious being. First the pathetic gesture of suicide, claim of sacifice "Pffft" Kain exclaimed "Not even a worthwhile sacrifice when you yourself are able to simply rise from ash. That is not sacrifice, there is no grand gesture, only prideful showing off for no purpose then your own..." His voice a gutteral hiss in his fury "Then this creature of rapine... such indefinable wisdom... such obvious knowledge... even when the band was placed on the beloved Ankhnesmerira's arm it had loftier purpose and the risk was acknowledged." Kain stopped in his tracks, for the uttering of that enterprise had the possibility of reminding the goddess of something he now preferred forgotten...

Sighing deeply, his envisionment now focusing on the presence of Uli, a grudging respect growing for to conquer and absorb ones nemesis was always something worthy of admiration. His approach without bitter purpose, and the sheer presence in some aspect a comfort to kain... for no false claim on the goddess existed here and a twisted and sardonic smile spread over the black lips of sedition. Here was one worthy, a true fighter whom used his hands as much as he used his mind. Not afraid of the murky spatter of gore a true warrior leader, not a bloated general hiding behind insignificant decisions. The coalescence of darkness about himself and the goddess a suitable pavilion for greatness and Kain turned his head, to glance once again at the whelp of rape before beginning preparation for whatever joys were to follow. Blood was needed and digging deep into his mind contemplating the greatest gift of Lilith, he began to manipulate potencies and blood in the creation of something suited to this occasion, the term... dispersal arising unbidden from the folds of his thoughts.

[The End of All Light.]

Breathing darkness… exuding like a kraken’s urge, only to segregate any form of illumination… both had initiatives to seek attention for a certain period of time. No doubt for a specific purpose? Now what could that purpose be? The bemused her dark psyche of self, inspiring her left slender, ravenesque brow to arch like the eclipse of the horned moon – hanging aloft like a cruel fortress to pierce the fog – enwreathed wintry sky; disembowelling the aurelian hue which kissed her acquiescent façade at Uli’s darkly majestic dialogue. Words, which wrought so much to the moments rumination ”Now why even tempt me with that thought?” Wasn’t it that temptation was the spire of the remark, the absolute pinnacle of resolve? Surely it had been playing across his mind… to be tempted with choices – a twisted philosophy mutually shared with its entire riddled aptness.

Why lead one into temptation when they possibly or unreservedly lead themselves there? Wasn’t temptation part of the desire of never really knowing whether they are worthy enough to possess it… and only dream; allowing their hand to pass through the image leaving them incomplete to the temptation? Temptation was the means of clandestine luring, to lead them into the darkness only to slam the prison door shut and never release them back into the light. Temptation was for the spider and its web… a beautifully woven masterpiece that shines in the moonlight with jewelled ornaments… only to ensnare. Temptation was for the intoxicating goblet of vintage wine bountiful with aphrodisiacs and slow–working poison – the best of both self-indulgent worlds… seduction and death. There was nothing coveted in her approach.

A raspy chuckle accompanied the lingering last words of Uli, that still entwined with the screaming elements and howling stars. Night interweaving, spinning threads of shadow and darkness much like that same spiders web to trap, or at least demand attention before being plucked with a sinister embrace. Would this be ill-omened or sinfully piquant? Black elements segregating her form from the other presences and conversation… and why raise a hand otherwise to deflect or dismiss it when things were starting to become slightly more interesting then past interludes and that of some creation of essences not of her will, an abomination so for now, they were alone, uninterrupted by nuisance or invading whims.

Finally she spoke, accentuation no different from before… still cynically acrid but also possessing the dulcet undertones, which managed to manifest from the spiced tongue. ”O, why not tempt with words and thoughts… I am sure it is nothing, which hadn’t crossed your mind or danced on the tip of your tongue before. We all receive our just rewards, though it is through our actions that determine the time we waste or the time that we don’t!” A snide smirk once again adorned those moist poisonous lips. Here they were… so what was next? A glint in her eye flickered with variations of mitigated darkness, effervescent like the overture of candlelight, glowing like a burlesque revelation… shadowed to a minuet of inharmonious chamber music… exhuming the hexed quintessence within. Who knew what else lurked in her thoughts hidden behind those mirrors that stared at him with avid raptness.

[Uli Kathandros]

Those saccharine cooings reached his ear as he finished spinning around them both that cocoon of black putty, his hands falling back to his sides with a rather wicked smile. Of course, he fully realized that his little enclosure had the added effect of submerging them both in complete darkness. He could see in that total pitch, and he suspected that Atra could too, so he made otherwise no move to light the interior.  Even if he could not see, there were other ways to perceive, other ways to feel. Perhaps to the distress of others, Uli commanded far more than just the basic senses of man. There were others; linked to his macabre nature and more still anchored to that of the divine.

I can illuminate the universe.

In a single moment, I could change everything. I could knock down beliefs and shape the face of everything.

She spoke of temptation, and of action and of truth of thought. Such words irked him on an unusual level, almost evoking a frown from the man with a desiccated face. Near-unconsciously, his left hand rose and caressed the scar which nearly ruined half of his face, fingertips caressing the trail of the wound. He knew not why he kept the blemish upon skin, for it would have easily been within his power to restore the freshness of his youth upon him. Such thoughts came back to the words of Atra, and slowly the frown returned to the neutral straightness of the lips.

Lead me not into temptation,
Father, leave me not alone,
Thou to whom my every passion,
Every secret thought is known;
If thy providence forsake me
In the dark unguarded hour,
Sin is sure to overtake me,
Hell is ready to devour.

He moved, sudden and swift; much as a striking serpent. His right arm, the one whose hand was always sheathed in a glove, wrapped about her waist and drew her close about him as his lips curled back to the most elucidated grin. "I am curious," spoke Uli in an almost natural-sounding throaty purr. "Of what you propose to reward me with? Or am I not deserving of such a just tribute?"

It's amusing, sometimes, how much we forget.

I have no Heavenly Father to pray to. I am an orphan in the foster of sin.

[The End of All Light.]

[align=justify:b2aaab3225]Being pulled closer, it could have torn worlds apart in that ‘dark’ venerated fortitude. Who could have known such acts would procreate more nefarious and shady dealings in the mind of Atra; darkness suffocating darkness… only causing more ominous passions to usurp from that blackened heart full of abhorrence and twisted yearnings for death, bloodshed and centuries of agony- all those forgotten foes screaming in writhing torment for a mercy they would never know.  Destruction, betrayal and treachery nothing but a stepping stone for most to the seat themselves on the throne of shadows but alas never knowing its origins or true potential. All they would discover was their true selves revealed to their perfidious infantile souls. Could this man before her awaken what had for so long been forgotten, slumbering in the sanguine vineyard of the savage garden beneath delicate white rose-petal flesh?
   
 A mystery one could only be sure, sweetly spoken words merging with the howling cacophonous tempest, darkness closing in around itself to separate them from the world outside and all worlds betwixt the barriers of reality and surrealism; it was more than apparent both were playing the aggressor, a delicate tryst of viper to viper interweaving to ensnare the other. Then again, Atra or so she was known was never one so sure of relations between male and female- she had only ever taken three lovers in her time but it was  Radu Ferencz who found a place at her side… and since then never  considered or ever thought of a laudable consort, none had been creditable enough to incite her full and undivided attention.  All those who had come and gone, juxtaposing themselves like unwanted puppies to her heels- it was intriguing to know from her prospective how everyone else’s leftovers tasted?  

In Atra’s recollection only two had shown promise- it wasn’t meant to be, and no hard feelings were spared in regards… they were the only two held of worth in circa that Atra held any respect for… but that was all in the past now... all the others who showed no loyalty to the name she bore were nothing but feeble pinions to a creature of lesser intellects and who had to fabricate her own worth in the eyes of those who had been before and still laugh in the mockery of the name Lilith.  Allies were few and far between now, not that Atra sought power for in the majority of contexts she had already had it… and only had to bask in the ambiance of doting worshippers and admirers… even those willing to sacrifice themselves for the ‘Greater Evil’… to fuel the onyx spires.

So the reason as to why Uli was here caused much curiosity and question in not only means but also more importantly action. Their meetings had been so brief in the past, when she was the Sorceress of Aoyn, the Queen to many conquered realms like Eden and Tenaria… and later the Queen of Aoyn. Not that it was any prized consolation in Atra's eyes; just the last step to the top of the pile. Another milestone, of all the declared allies still professing their loyalty to Atra none had come except this delectable specimen of sublime exquisiteness. He was still yet to declare his intention, only pull her tightly against him inspiring her own reaction of breaching any space remaining between. Sanguineous apertures pursed to plume a single tendril of saccharine exhalation… breath perfumed with both vintage wine and vitae upon his striking visage before unabashed dialogue escaped twixt yearning lips.

”Do you always grab before asking my beloved Uli then use such words to mollify my disposition? You speak of beautiful things with a hint of decay that not even I could refuse such musing and music to mine ears… elusive of your purpose to seek me here of all places; like a butterfly seeking that rare flower, a moth to a flame or a soul to complete that of your own.  Correct me if I’m wrong dear heart but I don’t believe this was a capricious reunion without raison d'être…. unless there is no reason that action cannot speak for yourself. So…Uli… seems like you have me in your wicked grasp… how about showing me what’s next… or shall I make the next move in this captivating game of chess?” Unfathomable nigrescent mirrors sparkled with a new effervescence ….manifestations rippling within those obsidian pools; prolific {trappestine} {vicariousness} {incandescence} broiling with the sinister impetus of the rendezvous.

A smirk curling from the corners of those rubiescent lips gleaming with a moist luster. Left hand rising slowly, at first to trace along the contour of Uli’s cheek with the silky smoothness of her hand, fingers splaying before ascending towards his brow as an elongated satirical nail swept back a single tuft of dark wayward hair eclipsing his perfection. Her eyes piercing intensely into his, though revealing nothing more than the impenetrable darkness amalgamating within the interior, swirling with a madness or intellect far more superior than most but possibly to the extent of Uli’s understanding, did he understand her? Not many had, Radu was the only one who had truly seen into the void of her epitome, the squamous horrors that lurked behind the masque of beauty and malevolent subterfuge. Malign and precarious… even beauty was altogether cruel in the mechanisms of nature; cruelty was just another expression of desire and lust.

Suspended in time, not that time had any substance over this place- the wind whipping around their both in discordant embraces, like ghostly children cradling their limbs in despondent supplication, beseeching sympathy and leniency for their whimpering quintessence… souls torn apart by the ephemeral talons of the shades intermingling with the elements in a macabre waltz. Chuckling with a raspy resonance, void of all breath… her face moving against the cheek where her hand had made attempt to stroke, nose moving to the side of his cheek though more closer to the earlobe- drawing back into her perceptions his scent eyes closing languidly with that same very exploit. Imbibing the essence of Uli, all the taints, death and fears caused simply by the mention of his name; should any asinine use in vain… no doubt Atra was sure that he’d introduce them to his own theatre of pain, slow and excruciating… and evidently the termination of their existence… and even then their agony would not cease, death is a far more profound experience and longer to endure. Another lingering inhalation…taking back another fill of his scent before moving closer of his ear and whispering in a sultry murmur, every word purposely tickling against cold flesh to stimulate and tantalize.

“Would you bring me hearts or souls to decorate thy altar with their unwilling sacrifice, the suffering making that offering plump with ripe torment for the flames to imbibe? Perhaps even heads and eyes to decipher the tragedies of their lifetimes by Necromantic and Thanatonian rites… to listen to their necrophiled tongues scream with hoarse symphony? Such pleasures to reap… I’m sure the eustress would be intoxicating to behold all we require now is a blunt application to see if wee do have an exact understanding. Dulcis corruptio, dulcis nex!” Inhaling for the last time before caressing his façade with a piquant plume of breath, teasing along the contours of his profile then moving back to face him directly as her head cocked to the left and tongue slid enticingly across those symmetrical devilish lips.  Wherever this was heading didn’t matter, it was only the objective of the game that held any relevance and just how far either of them would go… relish in the temptation or sin of the flesh- either way both were corporeal and eager to be experienced. [/align:b2aaab3225]

[Uli Kathandros]

Silence prevailed, as for a moment, Comnena's Reaper found himself bereft of words. It was nothing so pedestrian as simply being dumbstruck; or merely finding himself without a suitable reply. That absence of the spoken word came from something far more sublime. Across his lips arose a macabre smile; his head tilting to the side in a manner not unlike a furtive and inquisitive bird of prey, suddenly struck by wild surmise. Atra's words amused him, and stirred from within the ravenous side of him.

Always, he walked a fine line, treading the divide between the abyss of absolute madness and the purgatory of his own damnation.

I have walked the edge of the abyss.

I have been to the edge of space; in other worlds, to all the ends of the known universe.

Having gone quite a long time since indulging with thoughts of the more passionate side of physicality, the beast; the animal within struggled to rear its primal head. The darker side of him - the less jovial and more macabre. It went in tandem with feral passions; yet it could be controlled, applied, just like anything else. Yet... was he such a fool, to believe he could control the monster long chained? Always, always had he existed in the median, walking the path between true insanity and surreal reality. Making light and mocking himself with coy, subtle quips. Each wisecrack might have been a wound, if he had not become used to it by now. For how else might a beast walk among men?

And of course, is it not fitting that still, I strive and seek?

Raised up above his head, his free hand teased fingers against one another, before falling back to earth - the limb tracing a semicircle through the ebon dark on its course back towards his hips.  Thus, the smile finally gave way to words, spoken in tandem with the motions of his arms. Amused words; more light-hearted than one might consider fitting him. That had always been his particular quirk, a final thread that linked him to his fleeting sense of humanity.

"Chess bores me," the quip was followed by a more nihilistic snigger. "It is too constraining, too sophomoric. And I often suspect my opponent of cheating." He paused for a moment, allowing the rakish smirk to resurface on his scarred face. "I prefer predictable games, such as executing a transcontinental military operation."

With one arm having set itself about her waist, Uli perked a brow upwards as set of intrepid fingers teased downwards, perhaps seeking to curl about her bottom. If those actions framed his overall intent, however, he said nothing of it. The curve rictus upon his ashen features only served to accentuate the death of which he spoke.

"The unwilling? Oh, the unwilling are the ones whom are not worthy... What is an unwilling sacrifice, but a mere man ripped from his cradle and set upon the sanguine altar? Certainly, if the act is done well, there is merit... where the victim knows what their fate will be and their executioner inspires them with utter terror and various punishments are exacted upon the body to inflict horrible pain and terrible mutilations so that they scream and scream and the screams reach into the inky night to tell the dark dwellers that soon they will have a new home in the world of matter. The torturer will feel the power of his or her invincibility as the dark entities draw near. The energy will rise in a steadily more orgasmic stream until it reaches its zenith when the final cut is made and I Myself pass through the practitioner to grant an eternal blessing upon one pure of spirit, one capable of the greatest deeds in my name..."

His tongue flicked at his lower lip, and it was then that he shook his head. "Such is one of many things my Master taught me, before I took his place. And the concept, of course, is full of merit... But it is still flawed, just as he was... He called such an act the highest form of death. But he was wrong, my dear. There is but one more tier; the zenith. A being that realizes the folly of life and willfully sacrifices himself in the name of Death. Life, after all, is incomplete... Death is the full realization of existence. Everything naturally progresses towards death, and so death is the more permanent, more perfect state of reality... One who knows this, and throws himself upon the mercy of the ever after... it is he who is the most worthy. And it is him that I would bring to your altar."

[The End of All Light.]

[align=justify:15f9bdcea6]Uli’s words caused a slight arch of her ravenesque eyebrow; they inspired so much yet failing to incite immediate response and instead giving her something ‘more’ to think upon. There was so much to muse over really, his words both struck amusement and reflect… each struck such a profound ring upon her senses and nerve as if an angel plucked at the strings so attentively.  Indeed chess could be determined as dull and monotonous, and then the possibility that the opponent was cheating only inspired a smirk over Atra’s rubiescent apertures, facial contours highlighted by the exhibition of amusement… ah this one was indeed sharp and pulling the wool over his eyes was no longer an option. Whatever game was being playing he was most irrefutably playing it better than any she had encountered.

Predictability, sadly enough, had never been one of Atra’s stronger points unless it involved the art of sword and involved the fatality and flow of a victim’s blood…. evidently loss of vital essence and ultimately… their soul. Fingers possessed a life of their own, snaking along the intricate curve of spine, tracing promises of the flesh to tantalize her corporeal form with the delight of mere touch- usually such a feeble sensation unless it involved the means to ensnare, captivate and bewilder; never for emotional whims unless they were selfish desires hankering beyond control. That was the type of passion Atra craved… that which comes with no control other than want. What else was there, every passion and lust led to want, take and have.

To be a coward to lust only deprived one of the wayward aspirations and then to give in it may appear to be desperate and hasty for that predilection, but Atra craved it all the same. He was one of those poisons, tasted so sweet yet the venom worked well into your veins bringing you to that opiate euphoric addiction to want more… yearn… a constant craving to drag the senses into pandemonium. It was a form of chaos that intrigued Atra, to the point of venturing, pushing those buttons just a little bit more to see where this meeting of sorts would conclude. Into his embrace, Atra pushed her body up against his even closer… every curve manifest to his imagination not to mention the sheer exquisiteness of bare flesh.

Against his body… filmy apparitions of ebony gossamer parting to reveal contours of bare alabaster malleable flesh, silky to the touch as her skin purposefully brushed against that of his other opposing hand, her outer thigh, but, only briefly before turning her body around slowly to bring herself into his touch directly and away from the other hand only separating them for the briefest of moments. The more he spoke the more enticed and intense those wanton energies became, washing over her svelte form in torrents of sexuality along with the faintest aroma of fragrance fumigating from her physique with each gnarled caress of wind… malodorous born from the shadows, evoking the images of black pyramids, demons and bleak desert sands- a perfume inculcated with black lotus, amber, myrrh and sandalwood… dusky… subdued yet rousing.

Mirrors of midnight stared directly into Uli’s eyes as he spoke, attentiveness captivated, heeding every syllable and phrase wistfully pluming over those elucidating lips, spoken from a mind of sagacity beyond what most could comprehend or even dream of understanding. Uli’s tongue flickered over lower lip instantly capturing her attention as her own sanguine apertures responded to slightly part allowing incisors to grace lower lip as satirical apexes pressed to slice the smallest of incisions. A new wave of moist crimson luster adorned those symmetrical arches, dousing stained sanguineous rapture once dull… into full luminous saturations. Vernacular bemusing vibrated over tongue, dulcet and scandalous in both prose and activation.

“Such words you say, of death and the unquenchable desire to taste its accolades… deeper and more profound, yet even the waters of Lethe do not permit the living to forget that, as you say, death is the bringer of true revelation of oblivion. I have seen the death of worlds, I have tasted it and felt it pass in the grip of my own two hands… and yet, even I am not totally resolved of its authenticity to bring even the strongest to their knees when staring into the hollow of its eyes and feel that frozen divergent embrace. Every creature marches to its tune, yet fight it when the final twist of the dagger severs the golden thread of life bringing them into darkness. Eternal as it may be most fear it. I do not fear death… at times my dear I wait for the beating of blackened wings to take me- save me from this decadent age where everything is meaningless except for the flesh… and even that is fleeting.”

Pulling the energies around her, bracing the elements summoned not only by his presence but hers as well, merging them together in order to invert the gathering of combined and conglomerated essences and manifestations of darkness; commanding those nefarious forces to do her bidding and whisk them away from the less desirable landscapes and to something more befitting, more comfortable… more… private. The intention was there but yet to be acted upon, as with the want to take this interlude a step further. “My altar… is that of my body, my temple is the zenith to all that I have known and kept well revered within my darkened soul. So, if it is ‘Him’ that you bring to my altar, then it is only logical that I serve the wine before that which I give, unholy or divine…'myself’. Shall we let ‘him’ be the decider on that factor?”

With that her blood-stained apertures brushed towards his, should he make no attempt to turn his head or move, then they would make direct contact- sensually, suggestively and seductively. Flavored with both vitae and Babeasca Neagra. Romanian/Moldovan vintage red wine), sweeping from the right to left across his lips, teeth nipping, sharply, maliciously biting with ivory mithril fangs intending to slice open  the smallest of welts in which to sup and tease with the tip of flickering tongue… {massaging} {sucking} {piercing}.  Right hand ascending to swept through the mantle of his thick dark hair from the base of his neck upwards while honed fingernails and silver finger-armor stroked against the skin giving more stimulus to the torrid union. Left hand moving around to his left side underneath his arm that held her; entwining their forms entirely in burning grasp with the intention to abruptly pull him in tighter against her heaving bodice.

Brusquely with every intention without mistake of misconception… slender manicured brow arching like an onyx crescent moon upon an ashen horizon; studious to see his reaction or refutation … then that… would be a different scenario altogether. In all relativity Atra hoped for a more congealed response, and she certainly new that the Uli she met all those years ago would certainly not step away from a once offer. In fact she knew he wouldn’t walk away from a challenge, nor would she permit him to walk away and profane them both with an unwanted interlude. The fires were burning hot so why quench them with dispassionate venoms- overshadow this unspoiled opportunity to partake in something that had crossed her mind quite a few times during their sporadic moments of acquaintance.  Uli was the perfect diversion from everything else brewing upon the eclipsed surface of her epitome- the question was: Would he oblige her?[/align:15f9bdcea6]

[Uli Kathandros]

It had been a long time since he had felt such a surge of mortal emotions within him. For a long, long time had he held his apotheosis in the utmost of regard, as the epitome of detachment. Since the moment he had taken his first step upon the path to damnation and salvation, to the present, where he found himself standing here - the passage of such times had been marked by nothing more than detached bemusement, the jovial croonings and laughings of a rather morose, if sarcastic man.

What do we laugh at now? Do we laugh at how wrong we always were? Do we laugh at what we have become?

Do we laugh at referring to ourself as 'we'?

A smile bloomed upon his ashen face, his tongue sliding along the lower tier of his teeth, coming so close to baring his ivory-shaded fangs in the same motion. There burned in his eyes thoughts; emotions that had been supposedly forsaken ages ago. Forsaken when he had taken upon his shoulders his current mantle. Comnena's Reaper, the herald and herder of those whose time had passed. Now, he felt only the sweetest irony at his predicament as a whole. Made of nothing but death, yet finding revelry in the pastimes of the living. Atra thought of the Uli she had met some years ago; yet the Uli whom stood before her was not that man. He no longer served another - he had rebuked his false Master, and taken astride the mantle of August.

He had become what he had been born to become.

I am nothing, any longer. I am no mortal, no immortal - not living, nor revenant.

I am death.

Arms outstretched and enfolded Atra's form, pressing nearly-bare silken skin against his darkly clothed frame. Sensations tickled up and down his form; creating a heat that built steadily within his loins. Eyes narrowed, the dichotomy of colors becoming almost eclipsed by eyelids for a moment before they parted wide, as if in revelation. The skin of his fingertips danced over her hips, pressing idly here and there, in tandem with ghostly, fleeting caresses.

Here, before him, Atra might have been seen as the epitome of beauty, of lust and of all the sins that drove men mad. What such things did Uli have to boast of? He was not even that tall, nor overly muscled - his body smelled of nothing exotic. Perhaps more akin to the must of an old tomb than anything tangible. Yet, being so 'ordinary' had never bothered him in the past. His secret lay perhaps in his silver tongue, or perhaps... perhaps by being so ordinary, he was the only one so extraordinary. And as she offered herself up to him, there was no movement taken from his head. Was he stupid? Never had he been. Was he prude? Nor had he ever been that. The offering of blood was a delectable one, and though it no longer formed the basis for his survival, it was still a rather lovely treat.

"Death is nothing," he whispered as his head lowered, tongue sliding itself upon a course to her ear. His teeth seized the lobe and gave it a playful tongue. "Nothing to be feared. Nothing to be envied. Nothing to be embraced. It simply is. The end. The last breath, the final gasp before perfection - nothing more." A hand slipped downwards, securing itself a grasp upon her leg, between hip and knee. A bout of divine strength was all that was needed to lift it, perhaps for her to in turn, hook it about his waist. "Now," Uli's expression suddenly became far less thoughtful and far more smug. "Enough talk."