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Offline Hanna [RP]

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I wish? No...I will. [prp][tw:implied past-noncon]
« on: May 30, 2017, 12:42:37 PM »
ooc: uncolored text is dream dialogue...tho Zeki is welcome to say that she talks in her sleep if you really want him to hear this twisted crap, Mutter.




Chaotic dreams full of fire and combat retain their vengeful edge, yet, they manifest in new form with in the Shihan as she sought some small amount of freedom through her slumbering. A cluster of tiny babes began to fall silent at her side, as Hanna, sweet Hanna, offered false sympathies, and empty promises to the displeased Rosa who had eagerly come to collect them. Of course, in the dreamland, her Cheshire grin could be as wide as could be, but still go undetected by the petulant God. The White appeared to grow more and more visibly upset. Nevertheless, no harm came to Hanna this time as she cooed at the girl, before shooing her away.

“My apologies, Gigantea.” A thousand apologies in fact, Little Goddess, and not even one was genuine. “Next time, Gigantea,” Oh, please come into my head again, and next time would be the same too…. “Just you wait, Gigantea.” You’ll continue to gain nothing from me.

What came with this fantasy, at times; was a rush of comfort as she awoke. Often a fleeting feeling, of course.

Nobody knew just how easy it would be for Hanna to make such an imagining real. There was a cruel similarity between herself and Anamelech that none had been privy to, and if the children squirming around in her belly, growing bigger day by day, had been sired by any other wolf it would’ve been too easy to give the tyrant that sort of “eff you” in response to everything that’d been done. Perhaps…. perhaps though, Anamelech was not as childish as she seemed to be. Maybe she’d been perceptive, clever, and had recognized a similar beastliness within Hanna that was comparable to her own self. With that in mind, it made perfect sense why she’d chosen to use Ezekiel as a part of her ploy.

The uplifted feeling that came with the conjured up hollow victory never failed to die away as her brown eyes opened and she stayed awake for longer than a few seconds. 

If they belonged to anyone else—

Anyone—

Hanna would smother the life out of each one as they were born. Leave them enveloped in their sacks until they died, and lick them clean just before the White came calling to inspect. It seemed a simple thing in the female’s head until cruel reality decided to shake her fully awake. 

THEY WERE HIS! THEIRS!

The truth would always greet her with a jarring slap across the face. She could not bring herself to do it. Not to them, certainly not to him, and that was just as inevitable a fact as Ana’s eventual ownership of Hanna’s brood. And if she had the additional misfortune of being pulled back to sleep, his devastating expression would be waiting for her behind those closed lids.

“Hanna…. Hanna…. What have you done?” His sad face conveyed as much, but in her visions, she could still hear his long-lost voice like it once was, despite his tongue still being torn. She can stammer and stutter every manner of excuse, every reasoning in the world, and “I’M SORRY!! SO SORRY!!” Over and over again. The fact never changes that she has stolen something precious to him in these dreams. In reality, too…

She’s failed him all over again, just like before, and the time after that. It seems like that’s all she can do. 

“How could you?!” He demands, cutting her deeper than the wounds he’d carved upon her back.

“How could you?!”

“How could you?!”

“I’VE ALWAYS LET YOU DOWN, HAVEN’T I!” A chilling confession only aimed at herself. “OF COURSE, THIS WOULDN’T BE DIFFERENT!” He shouldn’t have come back to her. She should’ve never wished for something so hard and so much. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…m’ sorry.” Eventually the haunting vision gives way, and Hanna stutters the apology as she wakes. Whatever salt clings around her sunken orbs is rubbed away. She grimaces a bit at the raw flesh tugging along her spin while her fat body rolls around. “D-did I wake you again?”

There’s an apology for that too, but it’s not what the initial ones were about. “I-it’s not even morning yet is it…I…geez.” What a mess she was. She failed so incredibly at anything involving him. 
« Last Edit: May 30, 2017, 12:43:24 PM by Hanna [RP] »




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make sure it's your money you flaunt
Depend on noone else
to give you what you want


                - Destiny's Child


    
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Offline Ezekiel [Rp]

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Re: I wish? No...I will. [prp][tw:implied past-noncon]
« Reply #1 on: May 31, 2017, 01:07:05 PM »
 He doesn't sleep. Can't. Won't. Why should he get to; while she kicks, writhes beside him. He thinks she's going to wake, any minute now. Thinks the red eyes at her back surely must, by now, prickle worse than the teeth he'd used to carve into her spine. The letters. The letters. Love. Was this not what Richter had intended when he made that alphabet for Ezekiel? That the monster would carve such careful shapes only he could read? Staining her back pink where he couldn't bear to lick away the blood any longer.

 Without the colors of the sticks to match the symbols, the word could mean anything. It means nothing here. Means nothing there. It. Means. Nothing. Everything.

 Hanna cries out, something inaudible. He knows. He knows what he did. What this means for them. He rakes dull dog nails over his face, tearing only a little at the thin fur and skin at his snout. More pressure -- he needs. Hanna's whimpers die out and he stills, waiting. She does not stir, gets wrapped up in her nightmares again. It's blissful, to see her like this. Not awake. Not real. Not yet. Like this he can pretend he killed her, kept the body warm, kept her safe. Pretend like he's not forcing her to suffer more. That he's not responsible for the pain in her heart, her back, her soul.

 But, was he the only one responsible here?

 Yes.

 Ezekiel stands slowly, moving away from Hanna. He has to do something. He has to stop hurting her. When he closes his eyes and presses his face against the cool wall of their den he imagines, for a second, the feeling of his teeth falling out. Pulling them out. Cracking his jaw against something hard, taking a long walk off the top of the cliffs, anything that could stop him from lashing out again. At her. At anyone.

 He's hurt too many people, now.

 You don't deserve them. Something crawls up his spine, curls in his ear. Sinks into his skull until he can feel his brain rattle with the echo of the voice trapped in him. You don't deserve any of them. All you do is HURT.

 It's not until he's midway through dislocating the toe that he registers the pain. Ezekiel is on the ground, curled up as tight as possible with his teeth wrapped around two of his front toes, pulling, sliding over the thin fur and digging into the skin. He yanks at a nail and holds back a whine as it cracks under his teeth. This is penance. Don't the Gods preach penance for sins? Oh have you sinned~

 If only his father could see him now.

 Hanna wakes, speaks. It drags him from trying to remove his toes, bleeding around the nail bed, sore and burning and slightly broken. He'll remove them, he'll remove everything. Everything. He stands too quickly, nearly stumbles over himself as his paw struggles not to tighten up at the ankle and roll. He moves closer to her, stops midway. His chest is on fire, but not like her back. Stomach rolling, he wants to comfort her, but finds he doesn't have the words. If he could even speak them -- useless, tongueless, no good to anyone.

 With the cloying scent of dried blood and the nerves of his paw still reeling he barely hears her until it's too late. But when he does. Ezekiel ignores the sting as he turns and barrels headfirst at her. The Goddess. The whore. He hates her, hates her, hATES HER. He knows the punishment for defying a god better than anyone but his teeth still aim to sink into her face, to shred through her eyes.

 SHE CAN'T SEE THEM!!
When July became December
Their affection fought the cold
But they couldn't quite remember
What inspired them to go
And it was beautifully depressing
Like a street car named Desire
They were fighting for their love that had started growing tired

Oh Memories
Where'd you go?
You were all I've ever known
How I miss yesterday
How'd I let it fade away?
Don't fade away
played by Mutter

Offline Anamelech

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Re: I wish? No...I will. [prp][tw:implied past-noncon]
« Reply #2 on: May 31, 2017, 11:55:36 PM »
TRIGGER WARNING: implied rape.
this post is horrible. please be mindful if you choose to read it.


ooc: Ana is bringing two NPCs that you both can use however u need!



Ezekiel and Hanna were so terribly fond of each other, as Anamelech learned.

She expected for Hanna's devotions to , but once Ezekiel returned to the valley, Anamelech felt her attentions...

waver, in a way she found quite unacceptable, and furthermore uncharacteristic for an otherwise stalwart White devotee.

Was Anamelech jealous? Hardly. Rosa Gigantea did not compete for anything. She had anticipated that Ezekiel's homecoming would present unwanted complications. Perhaps when Hanna was inherited by Anamelech, she underestimated just what Ana expected from her favored playthings. Roman and Judah, they understood their places. Thetis well-inhabited the role that Anamelech had bestowed her. But Hanna let her heart wander.

While Anamelech once thought of Ezekiel as an obstacle, she began to see him as an opportunity. Hanna played a valuable role in her schemes that Judah and Roman were unable to, and Anamelech was unwilling to sully her body just yet.

If the lovebirds wanted so badly to enjoy their little family, then Anamelech would grant their wish.

They just did not expect the strings that came attached, and that those strings were more like manacles.

You see, Ezekiel and Hanna were like dolls. Ezekiel was a dirty little ragdoll, and Hanna was a top of the line, expensive model. Those two simply didn't play together. But because they wanted to so badly, Anamelech encouraged it.

Months passed from the Great Party of the routine, invasive examinations, the continuous vigilance that Anamelech held over Hanna's developing body, the fixation paid to her swelling stomach -- and as Anamelech's eyes pointed to Hanna's womb, it revealed the truth behind her machinations. She imagined the children swirling around inside of her. She imagined delicately designed babes with Hanna's exquisite marbled fur and her grandmother's luxurious white hues. Ezekiel was an ideal stud because he tangentially shared Anamelech's genes. What made it so deliriously sweet was that they grew because she allowed it -- because they were the ants that functioned and multiplied within the civilization that she painstakingly constructed for them. Her personal garden of nascent life, engineered and nurtured from conception. A whole family tree sprawled beneath her fingertips.

Anamelech eagerly counted the days, and eventually, the time came when she would come to collect. With two convenient lackeys in tow, Anamelech proceeded briskly towards her concubine's prison, practically aglow with excitement. She imagined that the two wouldn't be thrilled to see her, so as she approached, she did expect an explosive response. It was foresight that would serve her well.

So sorry to intrude on this family moment. Just kidding, I'm not sorry at all, sweethearts.

Part of her laughed at the idea of Ezekiel being audacious enough to attack a God, but the rest erred on the side of caution. When Ezekiel lunged at her, berserker-blind and howling with incoherent anguish, Anamelech merely tittered and stepped aside, allowing Ezekiel to barrel past and collide with whatever surface impeded his path. He could chase ghosts all he wanted. Half the things that existed in his head weren't even real! Anamelech let one of her guardians contain his outburst, as she would not allow anything to distract her from her prize.

Ezekiel needed to be reminded of his place, and an especially salient truth he neglected to remember was that his contribution, and subsequently his importance, had ended at the moment of his completion. Hanna was a handy incubator -- he was the donor. If Anamelech were not so gracious, she would have severed his head from his body and no longer let his presence trouble Hanna's thoughts. The fact he continued to draw breath was a levity granted out of her infinite generosity. Luminous golden eyes were fixed on the pile of children suckling from Hanna's deflated belly, brightening with delight and surprise as she eagerly absorbed what she had so anxiously awaited.

The newborns encircled Hanna's teat like a glittering pile of Christmas gifts under the tree. They were beautiful. Oh, daddy, are they all mine? Mine to play with?

Secondarily, Anamelech noticed that the body attached to those precious mouths looked exhausted. Hanna required nourishment that Anamelech was incapable of providing. Right, Anamelech noted. Take care of that.

"Oh, my dear," Anamelech said, "You look so tired." Fortunately, that was another inevitability that she was prepared for. Glancing over her shoulder at one of the guards, she gestured for his approach. He dropped a fat gopher at Hanna's paws. "Please, eat something. You mustn't lose your strength. Think of the children."

The burly male tensed his paws in the ground, a growl burbling from his throat. It was apparent in that moment that if Hanna chose to resist, then Anamelech was not above demanding that he restrain her so she could shove the broken pieces of that gopher down her throat. One way or another, Anamelech would see that these babies survived long enough for them to be separated. Her life depended on it.

If Hanna found the ordeal so torturous, she could at least take solace in that looming deadline. Anamelech had a scripted future in mind for her new darlings, and Hanna and Ezekiel were not included in the cast list. As Hanna either ignored or reluctantly consumed the offering, Anamelech intently inspected each of the children, gently, covetously running her paws over their silken baby pelts.

Maybe if she outgrew them, they could make a fine patchwork quilt.
« Last Edit: May 31, 2017, 11:59:51 PM by Anamelech »






In the wasteland, on the way to the Red Queen
It's no wonder our stage clothes have dreams to be famous
The trees in the courtyard are painted in blood,
So I've heard she hangs the headless
Upside down to drain.

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Offline Hanna [RP]

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Re: I wish? No...I will. [prp][tw:implied past-noncon]
« Reply #3 on: July 11, 2017, 06:34:55 AM »
The lack of sleep and loose teardrops clung to her worn features. A vision disrupting haze masked over her eyes despite her several attempts to shed it away. She would gain some semblance of clarity in the coming moments though; yet, it came no thanks to the whirring of sounds by her breasts. That almost constant squalling of five tiny children. A noise that was steadily becoming all too easy to ignore. Instead it is Ezekiel and the whiffs of his newest mutilation that bring back some alertness to her dulled senses. Wary stammering is replaced by a familiar heaviness. Concern trapping Hanna's heart under a painful press while she attempted to shift. While she tried to make him out within the dark so that she could find him and move to plant a hesitant; but genuine, kiss to his paw. 

‘I’m sorry.’ She would say all over again. That common theme between them now, whether the pair are unconscious or awake. It's probably something which he needs to hear from her as much as she needs to hear it from him.

Not at all–

It’s not their fault.

Nevertheless, both wolves feel the same respectively, affixing the blame to themselves as if all the credit did not rest in the young deity’s hands. They need to address this...this guilt, which is literally eating one of them alive, but the issue is rendered moot for now when the aforementioned goddess arrives, and dips her all-consuming tendrils across even this bleak setting. The points of her devil ears just barely rise to the entrance of the cave. A mere flicker of movement in the corner of Hanna’s widening eyes and the Shihan feels her body grow tense.

She flinches so easily. She scorns herself for doing so with just as much ease.


‘How can you protect him?’                                                                    ‘How pathetic and sad…’

‘You’re frightened. Of a CHILD, Hanna. A CHILD!’

‘He’s protecting you!’


Unsteady forelimbs lifted her partially up, lurching her forward. The babes that are too weak to stay attached to the teats in their mouths squeak and tumble upon the ground.

“Ezekiel!” A hoarse gasp filled with warranted distress escapes her throat before it can be stopped. It comes in response to a side of him Hanna hasn’t seen too often, though, she often suspected it was there. Beneath the sweetness. The awkwardness that she was so accustomed to, and found so endearing. She always wondered why the big guy so seldom threw his weight around the valley...but now she wished he’d never had reason to do so.

Perhaps pride would swell in Hanna were she naive. Maybe a sprinkle of hope.

They know better though.

If only things could be so easy, but they’re not, and her mate’s fangs fall short of their intended mark. She catches a yelp from one of Ana’s lackey’s and finds only a iota of delight in that one’s plight. It's overshadowed by the uncertainty of how the Gigantea will respond to an attack, the threat that looms over Ezekiel’s head now, and has been there since the moment he stepped foot into the valley again, Hanna thinks.

A wary gaze follows the god.

Prepared to crush every newborn in an instant and bury her own teeth into the girl’s throat if her dove was threatened again. However, Anamelech appeared disinterested in the stricken man, and even Hanna to a degree. The center of her attention rested upon her investment.

That and anything that pertained to its well being.

How long had Hanna been staring and trying to gauge the safety of her lover? If her eyes weren’t fixed on her tormentor they were straining to look and hear outside the cave instead. It must have been long enough. Long enough for Anamelech to get lost in the joys of her new future toys, and for her second guard to grow impatient with the wait.

His touch is harmless. Just unexpected. His biggest oversight is underestimating her. Forgetting that she was still the Shihan, and assuming that she would react any differently after everything they’d endured.

Too tired and on edge to maintain some control, her head quickly spun back towards the wolf now yanking at her scruff. An agitated yowl unfurled against the escort’s face as he, perhaps unintentionally, pulled her deep cuts taut. His own cries echoed over her’s as Hanna’s “warning” made contact with their face.

The shock of a ripped lip, sliced muzzle, and a bloodied eye (the damage to which was uncertain) sent the canine stumbling back. It's stupid tongue tied itself into knots. Their only functional orb right now was wide with alarm as it shifted between the two women. “I-I,” He stuttered above Hanna’s snarling. “M-my..my eye...Gi-Gigantea! My Eye!” They babbled like a child...no, the runts at her feet sounded less pitiful when they cried, Hanna decided.

It would seem good help was hard to find, or that Anamelech needed to vet her entourage more carefully. Even so, Hanna still cautiously eyed the guard and the god at her side.

She wanted them to leave, wanted Ana to go before Ezekiel had a chance to react to her yelps within the den, but who would be fool enough to tell the all powerful “no”. Defiance like that...it  had its own consequences. A chance that Hanna was not ready to take while her and her mate’s odds were so low.

She couldn't risk condemning them even more....but maybe there was no sense in trying to avoid confrontation anymore.   




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If you're gonna brag
make sure it's your money you flaunt
Depend on noone else
to give you what you want


                - Destiny's Child


    
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