RPG Cold (M SVL)

[Losing Faith]

((OOC: Duo RPG with Raiha))

Prologue: Jormungand's Pet

Ian's body was broken, burning, and screaming. He knew he was dying...and the woman above him only stared, seeming to delight in the shattering of his fragile shell. His memories were trivial, all building up to the cold change that had started an hour ago. He hadn't asked her name. He hadn't even touched her, until she was on him, teeth digging into his flesh, pulling and ripping.

Desecrating.

She had razors for teeth and nails like claws. Her amber eyes invaded him in his most sensitive thoughts and he knew she was going to do things much worse than know what he was thinking.

A scream. A snap. Some part of him knew his spine had just broken and reconstructed itself seven times. Some part of him knew that something hard was jutting out of his back, much further than his shoulder blades should have gone. Some tiny part of him knew that there were sharpened bones where his fingernails used to be...

And every other part of Ian Michael McKaid was just concerned with getting the dying over with. But she wouldn't let him...he could still feel her, her warm body slamming his around like a doll. She wasn't like him. He knew that immediately. When her mouth turned into a maw and her grip became a vice...he could only whisper words like 'Beautiful'.

Now she was killing him. And enjoying it. But it wasn't killing...not quite. She was keeping him alive. Keeping him alive to play with his writhing, gasping skin-sack.

He screamed again, a wickedly powerful hand grasping him by the hair to stop his neck from breaking itself again.

The words he spoke were painful and gurgled. Incoherenent to begin with...she was a monster. He knew it. But...maybe an answer for a man that was shattering. He could feel it in his blood already. Perhaps a part of him already knew what was happening...knew what she was and knew what destiny would take him. Or perhaps he was a fool. But he asked anyway...

"Wh-wharg...what areee y-you...DOING TO MEEEEE!!!!!?" the words transformed from broken screaming to the vomitting of blood. Something solid began to trail out of his mouth. Entrails.

His last intelligible words were lost as his stomach acid burned the top off his tongue.

[Raiha]

[COLOR=MediumTurquoise][i]A tiny little baby, no more than 8 months old stared up through her curled fingers. Her thick brown hair covered her head and shoulders like a mop, and her small eyes tilted upwards at the corners. She rolled onto her stomach and gurgled happily. She could see her mother close by. So why be unhappy?

Mother. Solace. Warmth. Absolute comfort. She let out a little mewl and held up her hands to her mother. The woman leaned down and picked up the chortling litle girl and cuddled her close to her chest. Large white hands with long fingers smoothed down the fluffy auburn hair and a gentle voice sang a wordless song. The melody imprinted itself on the girl's mind. Elizabeth Dominae would leave her mark on her child, however small.[/i]

"Good bye Venea Mercolubra. Your father will find you now."

[i]Then she stood and walked her child to the bank of the river and looked up at the vaulting trees. She shivered slightly and felt her poisoned blade shift on its spine sheath. Then she held her child to her chest one more time, and then placed her down on the moss covered bank. Clad in a simple tunic, and clutching a ring in her hand, the little girl kicked her feet and looked up at her mother wonderingly? Was this a new game? She loved games! Then she began to worry. Her mother was walking away. ......nooooo? Yes? Was this still part of the game?

No. Mother was gone. Venea did not cry. But she began to crawl into the forest. She wasn't able to see her mother anymore. Her young eyesight did not permit it. That and even if she had had her true eyesight, it would have done no good. Elizabeth Dominae, the pride of the Tristae witch clan, had gone to earth. Her only solace in abandoning her baby girl was the knowledge that no vampyre would consume her flesh, and all werewolves would recognize her as their kynn. The witchblood made her very being poison to them, and the blood charm worked into the ring Venea would not let go, were more protection than all the charms that could be placed on any baby of any race.

Venea sat up in the forest and rubbed her eyes. Sunlight, but not too much left. She yawned hugely and curled up by one of the biggest trees she could find. Soon, she slept.[/i][/COLOR]