To Tempt a Devil [Kesshou]

[Silvar]

Heavy steps in the shadows (and the heaviness of the shadows themselves) signaled the return of the deathbringer to one of his favorite places to be, the darkness so deep here that hardly a light filtered through and it embraced him, loved him like no other could and he breathed deep, letting his mind go as black as the earth beneath his feet. The Devil had welcomed him, had taken him into its mouth and he was home, wings tucked close to avoid getting them snagged on any stray and jagged thing.

Everything that had happened while he was away to visit the gaping maw of Death was washed from his mind as he walked through this place, steps slow and unhurried. He had nowhere else to be, not unless he was sent for by his Queen, and it didn't seem likely, not at this juncture, and so he reached out his arms, let his fingertips draw lingering traces of a magic he'd all but forgotten along the jagged crystals (though it fizzled easily without direction or purpose).

He caught sight of a flash of light and stopped abruptly, but it had just been in his head, and he grit his teeth and buried the memory further. There was no place for that here, or in him at all, but it would be there no matter what he did (if he could weave a spell to remove it he certainly would). He let himself lean, press his forehead to one of the cool crystals and just breathed.

It was for a moment an almost pitiful sight, and his expression darkened (as if one could tell in this light) before he heard it, a soft, lilting tune of a siren and he straightened, upper lip curling away from his teeth just a fraction at the thought of being interrupted so rudely (especially by someone upbeat enough to be singing).

Still he remained silent, not calling out this intruding thing upon his silence, but waiting, for it was clear that the woman wanted to present herself to him, and he was in no mood to play a game of cat and mouse. If she didn't have a perfectly good reason for making herself known, he didn't have a perfectly good reason not to kill her for it.

[Kesshou N'harun]

Her song had been for him alone, a lilting tune as he'd heard it and an announcement as he'd suspected.

For Kesshou had been watching him from above, having scaled the crystals to get a better view of the path. She had wanted to watch the dark shadows pass through, to see them come and go though few did, and when this particular one (because who in their kingdom had not at least heard of him) appeared within the shadows she could not help herself.

"Oh, my," she said aloud, once he had stopped and she saw that he would not seek for her, "if it isn't the Wing Stealer!" For that is what many she came in contact with called him, with the way that he so brutally tore the wings from so many in the battle of the Fissure. She said it as if she had only just noticed him, though in truth she had been watching him for several minutes now, and had only just now said a thing because he had been about to pass her.

She lowered herself then, careful not to catch anything on the way down as she boldly (extremely so) stepped up to him, within a matter of feet, even.

All the better for her to see his eyes, of course.

And because dear sweet Eleri, her potential, her idle thought, had been harmed by him, she felt the need to jump right into things. Because here he was, and she had been there, and for the situation, for his reputation to make sense, one of them would have to be dead. They were not, and she wanted to know why.

It was with only slight subtlety that she pushed her power upon him in the moment he matched her gaze, the same sort of feeling that she had given Eleri in the beginning, that had made her so eagerly tell her secrets, but stronger. Stronger because this was the Wing Stealer, the Deathbringer, and she knew that he would not hesitate to kill her if given the chance.

"A little fish told me," she cooed, though the rise of her power was something that would not go unnoticed in such a cold heart (and there was nothing playful about it, no opportunity to waver as there had been with the Water Fey), "that you failed to kill your prey... Praytell, love, why is that?"

[Silvar]

As the woman had spoken, Silvar had trained his eyes toward her, spotting her not too far above where he stood and on her way down. His eyes narrowed sharply at her boldness, at how close she walked up to him and the shadows stirred to life around them.

And then it hit him as their eyes met, a painfully foreign feeling (except for--don'tgothere), and her voice was a sickly sweet poison that wanted to lure him in, to drown him and his eyes widened slightly, unable to look away. Fixation, and the shadows coiled and curled, infuriated. How dare she? But that voice continued, and though he had no desire to answer the question she asked, he found the words rolling off of his tongue nonetheless.

"Another Fey, of the Light Court. He interfered," and his eyes were wide with anger at her for prying it out of him. "Filthy little succubus," he breathed, rooted in her stare because his mind was weak in light of that situation, weak from the use of his power on the girl that got away.

But the shadows fought nonetheless, reacting to the unsettling mix of emotions within him and curling at Kesshou's feet. He felt powerless in that gaze, and it made him think for a moment the eyes were of a golden hue, and when he blinked, it was gone.

Shit.

He had to get out of this, and tried to put his focus on doing just that. If for nothing else she could kill him where he stood and while he did not fear death he did not exactly fancy it to come from a curious little whorebitch such as this, but a step back became a step forward, and he narrowed his eyes and cursed at her.

[Kesshou N'harun]

It was clear when she had him, and Kesshou's lips simply curved upward, an almost malicious looking smile on those dark lips that seemed to suit her just fine. She drank in for a moment the fact that he was transfixed, this Warrior, such a powerful and dangerous thing, and she listened.

She wanted to know more, more about this Light Fey he spoke of, because if it had been any normal thing, she was sure he would not have held back telling her that the girl had gotten away simply because he'd had to take the time to kill the Light Fey, and she so did love a good rumor.

"Tell me about him," she pressed (pushed, pulled, because he required a bit more effort), stepping over the swirling shadows and closer to the Deathbringer as he stepped closer to her, reaching out and it just took a brief touch to instill such a weak feeling, a tightening, a twisting in him as she upped the ante, had to if she meant to hold him.

It wasn't a deadly web she weaved, though, oh no, for while killing him was always an option if she wanted to take his place (a well known fact), she simply didn't want to. Instead, she wished to sap his will to fight her, and hope it held long enough for her to get away once she had done all she cared to do.

Wary of the shadows, she pressed up against him, letting the full-on contact intensify the web, because it was indeed a thrill to her to tempt this devilish Fey, and she wondered what such a dark power would taste like on her lips.

[Silvar]

The look on her face seemed almost smug, and Silvar grit his teeth, the shadows wavering in and out of certainty, and when she demanded it of him to tell more of the Light, his mind reeled with the memory, and her power over him sent such a feeling through him.

He had been so tired, and as her fingers fell to his bare shoulder he indeed felt almost sickeningly weak, thoughts spiraling out of control at the whim of this succubus, this tramp and oh, god, his want wasn't for her at all but she was stirring it up, bringing to light more than he wanted to know, to feel. He didn't want to answer her question, but felt compelled to, and as she pressed against him he shivered involuntarily, breath catching on a sound he still refused to make.

"Beautiful," he breathed out, feeling too hot in the normally cool embrace of darkness, and his eyes though still burning with rage (and something else now, something that shouldn't have been there at all) fell to half mast. His hand lifted, fingers ghosting over her lips as if they were someone else's, unpainted and more tempting even than her power.

His emotions swelled, unstable and the darkness around them reflected it in the way it churned and shifted, and he couldn't stop them, not feeling like she was forcing him to feel. His hand retreated from her face only to reach for the bite wound on his neck, and his breath was shallow, pulse racing.

It wasn't her he wanted, but she was there, and this twisted lust was rising with the way she pushed it upon him. A thought flickered into existence that perhaps it was her true intention to have him fuck her against his will, and the anger rose again, the want to wrap his hands around her fragile neck fighting with the want to twine his fingers into her hair and ravish those dark lips.

"And you will never compare-" his voice almost cracked as another wave jolted through him, and he had already given her too much, enough to surely ruin him should she choose.

[Kesshou N'harun]

Kesshou watched, temporarily fascinated by the play of emotions in his eyes at her urging, at her touch, at her question, because that was the truly interesting one. The way his breath caught, the way he swallowed that sound, she could tell...

There was more to this than her sway, and the breathy answer he gave only served to confirm her suspicions. How astounding and so very dangerous, this secret he had revealed to her. How scandalous! The Warrior of Dark, smitten with a Light Fey!

She smiled, a wicked thing as his fingers brushed her lips, for she knew that he must be thinking of the Light with the look in his eyes, because he was still so enraged with her for intruding upon his so private feelings. She could see the indecision, and as he began to speak again she pushed even further, her power a heady, nigh uncontrollable desire.

"Pity you say that, my precious Deathbringer," she whispered, the sound sending such a burning need.

And she rose up, arms around his neck and fingers in his hair to pull him down, down into the press of her lips, the sweep of her tongue, for she wanted to taste the darkness on him, wanted to hear him moan with this uncontrollable feeling she had given him. Yes, she wanted to feel the things he hid somewhere deep, wanted to draw it out and make him suffer it in how forbidden it was.

[Silvar]

It was a terrible feeling, to see the way those dark lips twisted wickedly, his thoughts a jumbled mess and he had to hold on to her hips with the way this unwanted desire shifted and curled in the pit of his stomach (it so made his stomach turn), his grip nothing gentle at all, fingers digging harshly into her pale skin.

Her words while a slap in the face, however, stirred this uncontrollable mix of emotions further, and he had to suck in a breath, realizing he had forgotten to breathe at all, lost in her eyes (they should have been goldwhiteglowing he thought) and losing his ability to fight it in the haze that shrouded his senses. But her words were not what broke past his final defenses.

Her fingers in his hair and he couldn't stop himself from letting her pull him down (she was just about as tall as-), couldn't stop her from kissing him, couldn't stop the low, raw sound that rose in the back of his throat because she twisted it to feel so goddamn good.

He couldn't stop himself from kissing her back, eyes falling shut and this heady rush taking over as he bit her lip none too gently and he thought of Alexci, such a pretty thing, such a strange thing and the knot tightened, judgment gone to hell and she wasn't him but he pulled her flush against his body and moaned anyway because she had trapped him.

What would infuriate him so much later was that he had fallen into it so very, very easily.

[Kesshou N'harun]

A feeling she would cherish, the way his fingers dug into her hips (a lover's mark that would last for days at least), and Kesshou breathed out a sigh. He breathed, and she smiled, and when he let her pull him down she saw the surrender in his eyes and knew that she would have the time to make her escape.

But for the moment, she let herself taste him, let herself shiver with how open, how raw he sounded. Such a taste, this forbidden feeling he had, and she had to gasp at the way he bit her lip (thinking of him, that forbidden, guilty thing, because she knew he had to feel guilt over it). He didn't know her name, but it felt as if he was calling another, and it was nothing new, but no less exciting for it.

But as exciting as it was to feel this powerful, dangerous thing give in, she knew that her time was limited. Certainly she could keep him under her spell for quite a long time, but she would have to sleep sometime, and he would likely break through before then. It was dangerous, this game she'd played, and it was that over everything that gave her a thrill.

Reluctantly, though (because the sound of surrender in him was so incredible), she pulled away, left him panting, had to pry his hands off of her even though her touch lingered there until she was out of arm's reach, and her voice carried through the darkness as she retreated.

"Such a poor soul... such a thing will be the death of you, Wing Stealer..."

She wouldn't stay to listen to the sound he would make at her departure (she knew it would be torn), finding interest but fear of the way he would come up out of the spell.

[Silvar]

Everything about it was so wrong in his mind but her power made it feel so right, or at least good enough that right and wrong meant nothing in light of it. But as soon as it had started it had stopped, she was pulling away, and the breath he drew in was so shaky, so weak (almost bereft), his eyes not seeing her at all as they opened.

She indeed had to [pry his hands away, for the heady thing she'd inflicted upon him had refused to let her go, but he was weak, and she was guiding him, manipulating him this entire time anyway. The shadows churned with the distress he felt from her, from the way her body moved away, and as the connection severed his hands flew to his head, breath coming shallow and quick.

It felt like so long ago, and she was dead to him as she disappeared into the darkness, the teasing tones of her voice the only thing he heard, didn't comprehend the words as he fell to his knees, shaking, the sound coming from his lips so unlike him, so jagged. By the time her footsteps faded completely he was starting to rise out of it, that anger taking hold again and the lovely crystalline things on the walls cracked under the weight of his shadow, a loud, echoing sound in the silence.

He would kill her, certainly, if he saw her again, would not hesitate to gouge those deadly eyes from their sockets, to cut out that wicked tongue and hang her by a high hook somewhere she could touch no one and where her soul could not be saved. He would make her an ugly thing in Death, would make her regret not killing him when she had the opportunity (and there was a second crack).

But for now, still trembling faintly with both desire and rage, he rose back up on shaky legs and it was all he could do to find a place along the side of the path to collapse and curl the shadows around him and let sleep take him.

He only hoped he would not dream of golden eyes and strange smiles on bloodstained lips.