PRINCE ON THE GUILLOTINE [o]

[RED&BLACK !]

         

ARGENT

killers in america work seven days a week

This forest feels like home.

It is not, of course. Argent knows this. He knows nothing can replace the severe beauty, the vast expanse, the ever-stretching woodland he belongs in, the safety that it offers, the comfort that it brings. He knows that this place is only the worst parts of his homeland, and that it is the saviour of vile nasty creatures - nothing like the golden-hearted girls and the starstruck boys that are the masses Argent has learned to live with. He knows all of this. He is smart beyond his years and more cunning than anyone should be, and he knows, but still it draws him in. Curiosity is one of his many faults, and it runs deep and unquenchable.

He is staring into the forest and his heart is pumping loud way deep in his chest, deeper than it should be, louder than it should be, but he does not urge it to slow. Instead, he lets it race in the cage of his muscles, fueling blood that boils hot beneath his eyes, and draws in a deep breath. The air is strangely for summer, tinted white and frosty by the mist that surrounds him; Argent's hid has turned deep and dark from the moisture in the air, and water clings to him in tiny, shuddering droplets. The sanguine prince blends into the background without effort or practice, with the simple ease of a predator. His skin is soft red-black with threads of gold spun here, ashen at the places where his bones curve - hips, shoulders, tendons of his jaw - and fades into tawny lion-brown across his stomach and spine. His eyes are glowing amber, wolfish, dark, but hidden by curls of spidery black lashes and the starless dawn.

A handsome thing, of course. But dangerous. There is rhyme and reason to the ropes of muscle that coil in his sides and the sheer strength of his bones and the fire that rages constantly in the pit of his stomach. He has been bred for violence, and there is no denying it. Argent is young and arrogant and cannot yet place a name to the heat that shimmers and ruptures across every vein - but he cannot ignore it.

And it sparks the tiniest  bit when he hears something crack behind him. The chiseled lines of Argent's face contort into a sneer, ears pressing back deep into the wild Stygian curls lining his neck, and he raises a brow in asking. But nothing escapes those sable lips.

SHIN OF GS + ADOX

open!

[Kezz]

“I'M THE OCEAN, I'M THE SEA,
THERE IS A WORLD INSIDE OF ME.”

The islands were in turmoil and Dianthe didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Her precious homelands set aflame with disarray, anarchy carried out nuclear experiments till their hearts pulsed radioactive blood, tainted, stained by the fear. She hadn't known how easy it was to cause chaos, but she had watched first hand as they enacted their sick version of entertainment, and so indeed the chaos had ensued.

Her mother had looked to where her father should have stood, but, alas, Druid was unusually absent and so Dionysus had stepped up to press close against their dam's side. Brave, sweet Dionysus. Dare had reached out a loving arm to her daughter with the intention of pulling her in close to their triad, but instead... Dusty had simply shaken her head, sooty curls bouncing enigmatically as she'd offered a fleeting, apologetic smile before disappearing off into the jungle. For this was no time to be sheltered in the arms of her mother! This was a revolution, and Paradisum's granddaughter had never felt more alive. There was no doubt she felt waves of concern, ripples of fear, even, that she might be next in line for the guillotine — and yet, there was heroin in her veins.

She wanted their attention. Magdalena was not the only island queen.

In truth her journey away from the ocean had not been to hide, but to seek out her father, to tell him of the tragic news if he had not already heard the rumors. Dusty was a daddy's girl if ever there was one — her love for him was boundless and yet there was a sickness buzzing beneath her collarbone, a twisted anticipation of the look that would cross Druid's face; and the thought of how she would have to swallow her perverted smile was exhilarating, hilarious. But easily was the night-cloaked princess led astray, and the lure of Misty Forest had proved too strong for her morality. Her father could wait one more day. And it was among the gloom that she saw him: a figure of glamor, but was that a tang of danger she could detect in the air surrounding him? Dianthe paused, and for a moment considered turning back... it wasn't too late, she could still redeem herself, there was still time to be this years Miss World. 

Yeah, right. 

RED&BLACK ! she's all kinds of batshit cray c;

[kota]

    Shit had finally hit the fan, Isa knew this based on the whispers he'd heard from holes in the walls and cracks under doors in the castle courts that his parents presided over. Though he had heard more gossip from within the halls of Bear's Den and more truth from within the confines of the Lakeside Castle. But this was to be expected when the blue wolf's (may he rest easy) favorite daughter, Liesel, was taking up residence in his father's bedchamber. Isardis had been a mistake, both he and his brother Argent. Both of them knew this, for their lady mother was more inclined to find herself in the bed of their father's niece, Sansa, their step mother, their Queen, second in command. Yet this had given them quite the advantage as far as politics went in MUSTANG. Being that they were the product of the consummation between the princess of war, Nerissa, daughter of the phantom king Halloween, and the second shadow king Nexus, son of the original wraith king Fate. They had been bred from violence and vengeance, and power. They were the blood of royals, born of royals, blood so pure that they were thought to have ichor running through their veins instead of blood. They were lucky that this theory had yet to be tested.

    Isardis was the second born brother of their brood, third if you were to count their older half sibling Cairbre, though Isa normally did not for the lack of familiarity with their moody elder brother. On the topic of inheritance you would normally find that the second born would not be entitled to any sort of useful power, but he had been born into a rare faction. He had recently been deemed as his father's regent, the crowned prince of Cattail Lake. Had this not been the case (and little to the knowledge of Nerissa or Argent) Isardis would have accepted his fate and become a usurper of sorts. Though if he had been given the option to rule beside his brother in the Den (again had he not been crowned heir in the Lake) he would have taken the offer. The boy had a bloodlust, a hunger that resided deep within the back of his mind, in the pit of his stomach, though it lay dormant within his young heart. Isa was still controlled by the innate curiosity of a child, a will to follow his elder brother (at a distance mind you) to one of the more dangerous back alley's of MUSTANG.

    He was silent, his feet made little to no noise despite the crisp autumn leaves beneath his feet. It was a skill he had begun to perfect, a skill learned from his father, which his father (Fate the cyclone) had taught him. He was a shadow, much like Argent, yet he had not been gifted with the natural art of cloaking himself in his surroundings. That was, unless his surroundings resembled the rising sun. Isa was a beacon of light, a flaming torch much like his uncle Iscariot, the keeper of the desert sands (the father of dragons), or his cousin Ruhm. The only thing he'd received that his brother had not was an extra two inches of lanky, stilt like leg. This made him fast on his feet and a tad less muscle clad than his elder sibling. Though he wished to summon any sort of envy, he couldn't help but be happy with the hand he had already been dealt.

    The sound of crunching came from some ways off in the fog, and he watches intently as his brother halts in the path up ahead of him. A girl, a slip of obsidian in the pallid expanse of fog, materializes. She was lithe, dainty, and razor sharp, his particular kind of fancy. Ocean eyes glide over the angles of her face, her shoulders, her pistol hips with a renewed interest in the scenery. A smirk pulls across his lips, and he approaches his brother with a confidence that only a prince knew how to embrace. "Brother, I haven't seen you since the dawn of the new year." He glances sideways at the ebony girl. "And I haven't ever seen you."



RED&BLACK ! Kezz sorry for the wait<3333

[RED&BLACK !]

         

ARGENT

KILLERS IN AMERICA WORK SEVEN DAYS A WEEK

Perhaps the girl would not have come close if she could see the lacuna in those feral eyes, if she could have grasped the turmoil that rippled just under miles of Argent's sable skin - but from the confidence in her steps, the wolf prince doubts she found either. So he watches her. Cold and curious, his lashes cluttered with sweet fall frost, his gaze does not waver from the sharp, delicate lines of her face or a few long moments. The snarl tattooed on his lips fades halfway, replaced by a muted interest in this shadow he has yet to figure out, and Argent tilts his head. A mass of onyx curls lips against the treads of muscle in his neck, black enough to stand out against the darkness that the forest offers - and finally a sound rumbles from deep within his chest, the first that he has uttered in weeks, maybe months.

Something inside of him turns with envy, with selfishness. This mortal should be proud to feel the burn of his voice, something slow and silvery, a sound that his been hidden and writhing in the back of his throat for ages. He blesses her with it. A few words that seem deep and almost disembodied, and yet, he can hear them stirring underneath blankets of muscle minutes before they slip from between his teeth. Isn't danger beautiful? The smirk that curves his lips is knowing, almost pretentious, but Argent knows she can't knock it off his face. No one can. It is a grin that belongs with the sharks, hiding ribbons of red under his tongue, something that flashes glamour and cigarettes.

She's pretty. Not what he wants, but pretty - long legs, satin skin, a glimmer in her eyes that the wolf prince longs to swallow whole. Argent observes her carelessly, one dark brow raised in a question that is impossible to explain, and waits for an answer. The silence doesn't bother him. Not when this ghost is meeting his eyes, when his heart is calm and strong, when there is blood painting the insides of his cheeks - 

but oh, God, it doesn't last long, he should have seen that coming. Argent spots his brother from the corner of his eyes, a sweet copper flame engulfed by gauzy shadow, and curls his lip impulsively. Weeks without speaking, and now this? From someone like Isardis... the wolf prince should have expected nothing less. For a few moments the chestnut seems almost incorporeal, shrouded by the darkness, and Argent almost wishes he was dreaming - but no, his brother is solid and long-legged and drawing closer, those ashen lips opening, no doubt, to release some snide remark. Argent does not bother holding back a visceral roll of his eyes, feeling dark lashes sweep against his skin before he tilts his head and meets Isa's eyes. 

"Brother, I haven't seen you since the dawn of the new year." The sable boy takes a moment to scan his brother and does not waste time in his reply. I'm sure you were busy, bothering someone else for a change. A dulcet leer flashes across satin lips, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of disdain and rhapsody. It was no fault of mine.

SHIN OF GS + ADOX

Kezz kota  <333

[Kezz]

guys do we still want to continue this? i can hit up a reply if so! :3 RED&BLACK ! kota

[RED&BLACK !]

Kezz kota I'd like to if you guys want to!