Robin Hood
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Djinn
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Post by Djinn on Dec 12, 2017 17:20:13 GMT
It was strange, there was no other way to put it. Well, there were but none really came to mind when some insane dragon was leaning over his shoulder practically singing to him. But again, that was strange. The touch on his back was enough to send his brain into a frenzy. The numbing sensation that crept deep into his skin sent a chill straight up his spine. His back arched as much as the chair would allow with his arms and legs restrained. Eamon went to retrieve some tools from the table, Djinn's eyes widening when he saw the sheer like tool. What the hell did he have in mind? Djinn swallowed hard and immediately winced when the collar jabbed at his throat.
"Don't-" He forced out the word despite the pain. But it was to no avail as Eamon would settle behind him again. He could feel pressure, tugging, hear the sickening sounds as his own flesh was sculpted. But he couldn't feel much of it. It was only When Eamon moved to the ragged remnants of his wings that Djinn could really feel the pain of it. The nerves there ran deep. "NO! Stop!" He tried to pull away, to fight against the restraints. Eamon's work rendered him still however, the sickening sounds of himself landing a few feet away making his stomach churn. He coughed which of course hurt with the collar. Bile rising in his throat. He felt sick and he was sweating heavily now despite being nearly naked.
He was breathing quickly, a panic attack hit him like a truck. The fae bent as much as his restraints would allow and drug short wheezing breaths into his lungs. He shook his head and mumbled incoherently as pain rocketed through his chest. He couldn't handle this. He couldn't handle someone hacking away at him while he listened. Couldn't this bastard at least kill him before he chopped him apart?
He looked up, his pale eyes falling to the table where the red angry tissue sat along with the broken fragments of what had once been wings. He vomited, he couldn't stop it. He leaned to the side as much as he could. But only spit could escape his lips. The collar squeezed his throat tightly and locked his stomach contents there in his throat. Effectively cutting off all his air. Djinn made a strange sound, his eyes widening. He couldn't even get the air in to cough. He lurched to the side, his face bright red as he struggled to not suffocate.
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Post by Éamon Lyall on Dec 13, 2017 22:39:50 GMT
Djinn seemed to be doing fine. Until he was not. The response was not unexpected and as Eamon stood and observed the fae fight to breathe, wheezing and doing his best to get his head between his knees to ease the spinning in his head. Only when the fae didn't cough or breathe, did the dragon move. He moved swiftly to the fae's side and undid the collar. He couldn't lose him yet. He wasn't done with him. He had so much more he wanted to do and it would be far less beneficial for him if his subject was dead. How was he supposed to coax those sweet screams and grunts of pain from a dead body? He worked the collar off the fae's neck and let it fall to the floor as he sank to one knee in front of the fae, so he could be in something resembling eye height with the fae. Again he was there with soft touches and soothing words. "Shh... Breathe. "
He grabbed Djinn's arm on the armrest, his thumb forming slow circles. The other he placed on the back of his neck, a way to control the fae's head. He found he got the most out these sessions if his victim was on the verge of actually believing the dragon actually cared for their survival. As if this was a sick game, a punishment, something they needed to get through so that they could have the gentle Èamon back. The one who bandaged their wounds and kissed the hurt away. The man who had greeted them with a smile and a friendly handshake in the door. The man who offered them food and shelter in the rain. The one who did his very best to save children and the elderly. He was the one you could trust to watch your infant and house for a week and nothing would be missing and the child would be alright.
The hand on the fae's neck stroked his dark locks, ran his long fingers through the damp hair. His eyes had green and turquoise colors now in the candlelight. He watched his newest toy with concern and worry. Almost regret. A myriad of feelings swept through his eyes and face. Most of them concern for his new toy, he didn't want Djinn to break just yet. Then a flash of attraction and adoration. Whatever this fae had been through the dragon was glad he had made his way to his door. The pure terror of having the remnants of his wing removed was exhilarating for the dragon.
"You are okay, darlin'. You are doing so well..." He spoke with a soft voice, one which encouraged and praised the poor fae. In truth he was doing well. He just had to hang on for a little longer. Then they could get to the main event. He rested his hand on the nape of Djinn's neck. "I'm here, breathe with me. Inhale. 1, 2, 3, 4..., 7. Exhale." He mirrored his instructions to Djinn and hoped he would follow and do as he was told. Eamon needed his precious fae tp calm down. "We are going to take a break, darling. So come back to me... Breathe..." He tilted his head to try and catch Djinn's blue eyes.
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Robin Hood
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Authored by Rook.
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Djinn
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Post by Djinn on Dec 14, 2017 9:50:46 GMT
Djinn swallowed several times, fighting against the pressure in his throat. Desperate to breathe. When finally the collar was removed he jerked to the side and spit but the majority of it had settled reluctantly back down into his stomach. He sucked ragged wheezing breaths into his lungs. Closing his eyes the fae attempted to ground himself, to calm down despite the situation at hand. Eamon was touching him, saying reassuring words as he stroked his neck and his hair as if he hadn't been the one to put him in this position.
Eamon was a messed up sort of twisted. But still, Djinn found himself breathing and holding his breath as the fae advised. It took several minutes for the hammering in his chest to slow and for his breathing to get back to normal. The sheen of sweat on his skin lingered now and cooled the hot flesh with each exhale from Eamon where he crouched near him. "Don't...pretend...to give a shit." The fae eventually forced out. His blue eyes suddenly flicking to the dragon with a cool hatred pooling in their depths.
"How would you....you feel, if I cut your wings...dragon?" He was exhausted. His words didn't come easily now but he struggled to say them all the same. "I've dealt with this...for years. Don't take-" He started to cough then. Several rough hacking coughs later his cool gaze would return to the attractive sadistic dragon. "-what I have left." Djinn was a prideful man. Someone who would say he was the best and not once doubt his words. "Please." That word tasted like poison on his lips and left his pride burning. But he was desperate at this point. Desperate to stop Eamon before he used those sheers. "Just...name your price." Djinn was by no means a man above bribery or many seedy endeavors really. So bartering for his own wings felt completely reasonable.
"...you keep it secret that you are a dragon living here." More coughing. "I could help you with that."
(so sorry this is shit <3)
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Healer | Dragon Council Member.
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Post by Éamon Lyall on Dec 15, 2017 21:16:27 GMT
(it is not <333)
The dragon watched the fae turn to him and sowly he saw the hatred form in his blue eyes. What a treat. A soft warm feeling rose with in him, swirling into a storm of dark desire. A low, satisfied hum rose from his lips. He had not had this feitsy a subject in a long time and he found himself giving the pale fae more time to recover than he otherwise would. He was not looking for an outlet for his frustration with himself and the world, no this was something to stratch that itch he couldn't reach when he was elbows deep in guts and blood. This was one of those times when he focused on his partner, one where he let himself enjoy and mmemorize the way the knife cut through the tissue and the way the blood mixed with sweat and filled the cella with the scent of iron, fear and vomit. This was the dragon's image of heaven. Or close to atleast. As Djinn talked Eamon's hand made its way from the nape of the fae's neck to stroking away droplets of rupies form the pinpricks made by the collar. His eyes fixated on the red blood as it was smeared across the ivory skin. There was nothing more beautiful than the contrast of red against pale, fair skin. He had always admired the human and dragons with pale colors. His fingers made thier way to the soft throat, sliding his hand closer to the top of his throat, not tightening his grip yet. He felt the blood rushing through the arteries, small, contained waterfalls just waiting to be released in a violent bloom of red roses... Lost in thoughts his hungry eyes watched and as he did he absentmindedly bit his lower lip. The afe had been talking. Yapping as if he had turned into some small dog, who just wouldn't back down when he was outnumbered and at no position to be making demands.
But the demands.. Oh the demands was the best thing, the begging, the utter humiliation and the way his pride must burn him... It threw the dragon into the eary stages of the euphoric high he chased time and time again. A soft, empathic smile with dangerous sadistic and mocking undertones played in his eyes. Whatever had happened to teh fae's wing he had fixed it. Removed some of that butchers work. It had not been worthy to share his canvas. A child's fingerpainting comapred to the masterpiece he was going to create... His fae called him back to reality with his plea.
His eyes made their way over to the blue, hateful pools of blue. What could this mere fae do to keep his identity a secret? The dragon was doing just fine on his own. Was his dear, coughing fae not yet aware of the fact, that the opinions of others mattered little to him? He only payed along with these creatures rules because he couldn't crush them without having his own kin hunting him for upsetting the slavery they had been forced into. It was pathetic really. "Oh my sweet, you have to earn that.." A deep growl revealing the depraved desires of the dragon.
The fingers started to close, they had found the soft, tender flesh beow Djinns jaw, the pulse was strong and as he closed his hand on the faes neck a smile rose on his lips. He rose a few centimeters and moved his face closer to the fae's neck. Then he removed his hand from the fae's neck and instead he grabbed the fae's head with both hands in a firm grip. With wet lips he kissed the pale skin. A soft and almost innocent peck at first, then he started to lap as the leftover blood he had smeared out before. The distinctive taste of blood played on his tongue just seconds before he burried his teeth in the neck, biting hard enough for there to be a bruise, perhaps not enough to draw blood...
It was over in less than a few seconds. Then the dragon withdrew from the fae and retreated to the tabe. He wanted more. He needed more... Yet he found a large piece of cloth and returned to the fae, Once again crouching, he started to remove the hooks and strings and giving the fae some time to recover. However, not time to find some place in his mind to hide away in. "While I do enjoy your spirit, it does nothing for you. I might give you peace when I'm done, if you play along. " His eyes sought out the blue pools as he removed another hook. "Don't hold back, you can talk freely. No one can hear you. There is only me and you and - lets be honest -the only one you should worry about is me."
He threw the last hook in the pile and walked to the table to shift thorugh his tools. Debating what would be best for what he wanted.
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Robin Hood
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Fae
Authored by Rook.
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Djinn
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Post by Djinn on Dec 16, 2017 0:43:18 GMT
Djinn was still trying to gather his thoughts after nearly choking to death on his own vomit. His lips which had momentarily turned a light blue color were now regaining their pink coloration and his breaths were getting slower and less desperate. The collar had forced the spikes into his skin. Not deeply but enough to leave a tiny little trail trickling down his neck from each hole. Eamon moved in close and trailed his long fingers through the crimson trails. Smudging them, making the wounds look worse than they were. Djinn watched him, noting the way the tall man bit his lip as he made contact. Was he…getting off on this?
The dragon’s words made little sense to the fae. He had to earn it? But as far as he could tell Eamon was paying his words little mind anyway. He was more focused on his body. Undoubtedly planning what to do next. His hands closed around Djinn’s neck that was already stinging from the small wounds. Bright blue eyes flicked up to lock eyes with the dragon’s. Djinn’s breath caught as those hands encircled his throat, the light pressure all to reminiscent of the collar. But then his head was being grabbed roughly. His head forced to the side.
Djinn stiffened as Eamon moved in, his face out of view as it went to his neck. The soft press of those delectable lips sending a hard shiver up his spine, a wave of goosebumps across his flesh. ”What-“ He tried to speak but the position was awkward. And then there was a tongue rolling over his neck, cleaning the blood from his pale flesh. That sensation, the mingling of pleasure, pain, and excitement. Pulled a soft groan from the mutilated fae. The desperate circumstances and the horror only aided in increasing his sensitivity to the touch. But then there was a movement, a drag of Eamon’s lips over his skin, parting to reveal the teeth beneath before he bit down. Djinn immediately tried to lurch away with a startled sound. Of course not succeeding because of the chair. And then it was over. Eamon was stepping away and back over to the table as if he hadn’t just tortured the weakened man with a mixture of pleasure and pain.
Eamon returned to him and crouched once more. His fingers quickly removing the hooks that had been stabbed through Djinn’s flesh. He hissed and tensed from the first few. After that the pain just became a constant. His only reaction being a tick of his jaw. ”Peace?” He repeated after Eamon. ”I don’t need your pity, Dragon. And if by peace you mean my death, no thanks, I’m good. I still have shit to do before I die.”
”Talk freely? Earlier you seemed rather annoyed with what I had to say.” Djinn bit the inside of his lip as the last hook was removed. Sighing quietly when Eamon stepped away and over to the table. Looking through his tools in a way that made Djinn’s stomach clench. ”If I can speak then, you never really gave me much of an answer as to why this is happening. Do you always just take paying customers and drag them downstairs for extra fun?” Djinn flashed a smirk although it was noticeably weak. ”Or am I just that special?”
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Healer | Dragon Council Member.
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Deep in you heart, Does it still remain? Do you think you can bring it Back to life?
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Post by Éamon Lyall on Dec 17, 2017 20:45:56 GMT
As he looked through his remaining tools the fae yapped on about why this was happening. Did he need a reason for everything he did? Did the fae ever do anything without reason? The dragon hummed - a deep sound which might have been mistaken for a low growl. He looked back at the fae as he considered the tool. He raised an eyebrow at the fae. No. That wouldn't work. He returned to his tools and tapped his fingers on the wood.
"Why do you think you are special... I have seen others with the same will burning in their eyes. Others who have lived a life very akin to yours. You simply happened to be here at the wrong time. "
He decided and swifty picked up the tools. A scalpel, a set of shears and several pieces of cloth doused in alcohol. His eyes travelled over the tattooed skin of the fae. Did the fae ever do something out of want? He had the appearance of a being who woud live life by what he wanted and not what he needed. He had needed to get the remains of the wing removed. It looked absolutely horrible, first of all, and it would improve his life quality. On the other hand, the wing was part of the fae's descriptors. The dragon supposed he could understand the anxiet he ust feel about losing his wings... But he didn't care. It would bring the dragon a much greater joy to see the fae stripped of any indication of his race. He would be a fae, who looked like an elf. Not much different from a dragon who looked like a human.
"And to answer your question. You are here because brothels doesn't allow you to kill and maim their workers and slaves are expensive."
It was a simple answer. The dragon valued his hoard of gold, crystals and other treasures, and he wasn't going to part with it wilingly. He placed the toos carefully in Djinn's lap. Before he folded a cloth and started to wipe the places the hooks had been. Infection came easy and was often a death sentence for some. He didn't take great care when wipeing the fae witht the cloth, but it was over fast and he threw the cloth to the side before moving to stand behind the fae. "Hmmm..." He grabbed the remaining wing with a firm grip and studied it. His fingers stroked the fragile wings and then felt the back where they attached. A complex thing. It would be bloody and if he hit too close to the nerves connecting to the back he might paralyze the fae. Should he let the fae out into the world after this? Hmmm... perhaps he should give the fae a ray of hope. Something to hold on to... He might find the poor thing later and see how he was fareing. His fingers trailed along the fae shoulder, down his arm and up again. Eamon moved to face the fae. "Before we start..." He crouched and his fingers trailed down the fae's chest and rested at the edge of his trousers. His eyes moved from the fae's blue pool and down to the tools in his lap. "For this not to go horrible wrong for you -because I really would hate to lose you half way through it.." His hand moved ad was joined by his other hand. They rested on the fae's hips, his thumbs digging into the fabric and flesh underneath. His eyes fluttered to the blue once again. "Don't hold your voice back. It helps to lessen the pain, curse, scream-" As he talked his hands started to move lower and dug into the fae's flesh and dragged his thumbs in circles. "Try not to move. Just let all the sensations wash over you. Don't deny the pleasure in the pain..." His voice had lowered to a sensual, dark tone. His eyes observed the faes body and what was going thorugh his mind was something most would call horrific. While he realy would hate to lose the fae half way through the fun, he wouldn't mind slicing the fae's meat into steaks and perhaps he would even make soup on his bones. He hadn't had fae in a while... His thoughts quickly strayed from food and to the being infront of him. His hands had moved to the faces knees and now moved up in a smooth motion, thumbs digging into the inner thighs of the fae and let go when he reached the faes hips.
He took the tools out of the fae's lap with one hand and as he walked around the fae his other han ruffled the fae's umber hair with a gentle motion and paused only to lean down and place a few kisses on the faes forhead and on the top of his head. A smile grew on his lips as he watched the fae's remainig wing. Then he started.
He grabbed the wing with a firm hand and with a wicked smile playing on his lips and a sadistic glint in his eyes, he started to cut the fae's wing off. He started by making an incesion above where the wing was attached. Then below and on each side. The scalpel was sharper than most knives, so it sank into the skin as if it was butter. The blood trickled out and down the fae's back. He paused and looked at the work. The he leaned over the shoulder of the fae and placed the scalpel in the hand of the fae. "Hold it." His voice was firm and gave little room for discussion. If he chose to drop it the dragon had other ways to make him hold it. Then he started to cut underneath the skin with the shears, so that he could flip the skin up and reveal the muscle underneath. He leaned in and placed hungry kisses on the fae's bloody back. lapping up the blood as it spilled from the wounds. The taste of iron filling his mouth and nose. "Mmh" The groan escaped his lips with a low sound. "I havn't had a fae in a long time... You really do taste the best..." He spoke in a low voice, not yet a whisper, but enough to be more for himself than a comment directed at the fae.
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Robin Hood
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Fae
Authored by Rook.
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85 posts made.
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Djinn
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Post by Djinn on Dec 17, 2017 21:59:46 GMT
Wrong place at the wrong time. Well that was the story of his life, wasn’t it? Djinn smirked although it lacked his earlier confidence. ”I don’t believe in chance.” He said slowly. Not truly caring of the dragon listened to him or not. Apparently the only answer he would be given was that he had an inkling and Djinn made himself available. So be it. ”Everything is linked somehow. My other wing. All the messed up shit I’ve done. This. It all happens for a reason. The reason just could be that I deserve it.” His words weren’t intended to draw pity or to be self-depreciating. He actually laughed after those words left his mouth, a soft sound that ended in a cough.
The dragon spoke of brothels and it was easy for Djinn’s mind to link the fact that if the rules had been a little more lax Killian could have ended up here. Being tortured by some twisted dragon. The thought made his blood run hot. But Killian wasn’t here. He was somewhere safe, Djinn hoped. It wasn’t as if he kept tabs on the man. Their random encounters were often enough though. Even if unintentional. ”Lucky me.” He said dryly. But any other retorts were cut short by the alcohol soaked rag sliding over his fresh wounds. Burning the openings and making him hiss.
Djinn’s wings were made much like that of a dragonfly. Traslucent but shimmery when the light hit them. His weren’t a brilliant color like many fae boasted. In a start contrast to his friend Eriu and her bright pink wings his were a dull brown. Appearing almost like dingy windows in need of washing. They suited him. Eamon took his two remaining wings in hand and the appendages tried to flutter involuntarily. A reaction to being handed. The muscles of his back visibly stiffening and twisting in an attempt to free him. The other side no long twitched, that was the first thing he noticed. Since the other wings had been torn away that side would twitch and jerk painfully to try to copy the movements of the remaining wings. Now though, with the very roots of his wing fragments gone, there was nothing. It was a blessing, but also a terrifying glimpse into what was to come.
He didn’t like the way Eamon touched so gently, a stark contradiction to the horrors he was carrying out. His fingers slid over Djinn’s smooth flesh. Over the dark ink that lingered just below his skin. Had he been a werebeast he would have surely growled and bared his teeth as the touches went lower, cascading down his stomach until Eamon’s large hands settled on each of the fae’s hips. Clenching with enough pressure to leave bruises for days to come. He would feel the power in the dragon, even in this form he was formidable. It was a strange fear that peaked in his chest. One that he had never felt before. The look in the dragon’s eye. The fleeting trails of touch. Surely he wouldn’t.
Djinn’s eyes didn’t leave Eamon’s as he spoke. Telling him to let his pain sing, that he didn’t want to lose him. Of course not. No one wanted to lose a new toy. Djinn’s lips pressed into a thin line as Eamon’s hands moved higher until there was pressure against his inner thighs. The fae bucked his hips just once to try to force the contact away. Deep lines in his brow revealing his dislike of the man’s touchy treatment. Had he not been tied up and tortured he would have had to qualms about having a little fun. But this wasn’t fun, at least not for him. ”I doubt I’ll see the pleasure.” He said coldly.
The weight of the tools in his lap that Djinn had forced himself not to look at was suddenly gone. Alone with it, the dragon. He twisted his head away from Eamon’s touch, wincing from each press of his lips. His breathing was steadily quickening again. He knew what was coming now. He knew his remaining wings were about to be removed.
And that was when the pain truly started. Suddenly his quivering wings were grasped in Eamon’s powerful hand. The other began to cut away at his flesh. This time there was no numbing, this time it wasn’t a remnant but an entire wing, this time…Djinn might not be able to hold it together. A stream of curses left his mouth first. A wriggling in the chair, twisting, trying in vain to get away. But as the incisions grew, the valleys carved into his skin went deeper, he finally began to yell in earnest. Not yet screaming but on the verge. Panic throttled his sense of reason and even his stubborn pride. All he could think about was losing his wings, the last pieces that made him fae.
The scalpel was thrust toward his hand with a demand to hold it. Djinn grasped it in his hand instantly, not one to turn down a weapon even if he couldn’t really use it the way he was strapped in. The blade was slick with his blood and in a brief moment of lucidity he twirled the blade around with his fingers. Forcing its sharp edge across his palm and the boney part of his wrist. Blood was slick, a lubricant. Maybe he could use it to work his hand free.
Then came the shears. And that was when the fae began to scream. The sound was rough and torn. Desperate. He thrashed against his restraints. Fingers clenching around the scalpel and driving it deep into what had been his uninjured hand. He screamed and screamed. Eamon’s words didn’t even register over the feeling of having his flesh fileted. His screams were a streak of desperate words, curses, accusations, perhaps even something referring to the dragons mother. But they were also just the guttural sounds of pain that had no words, only a sound. There was a pause and he could feel Eamon doing something, leaning closer. He could hear nothing over his own pain and the blood rushing in his ears.
”Stop…this.” His voice came weakly, ragged and gravely from his screams. He wished he could faint, something….being conscious for this was sheer agony.
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Healer | Dragon Council Member.
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Authored by Moro..
Offline.
Deep in you heart, Does it still remain? Do you think you can bring it Back to life?
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Post by Éamon Lyall on Dec 26, 2017 20:56:53 GMT
And now... The dragons favorite part had begun. The symphony of ragged breaths. Torn screams. Guttural sounds produced by the sheer instinct to get away and summon help from his surroundings. The cellar had been proven itself time and time again and today would not be any different. No human, elf, fairy or dwarf would come rushing to the fae's rescue. He was alone. At the dragon's mercy. The dragon's body hummed with adrenalin, excitement. He could faintly focus on his own heart as it quickened at the sound of his plea. No witty comment? A smug smile settled on his lips, drawing his lips into a rather cruel grin with flashing teeth. He really had struck gold. The Dragon did a rolling motion with his hands firmly placed on the fae's shoulder. Almost as if he was starting to massage the faes neck and shoulders once again. However, he pushed himself away from the fae just as fast as he had begun the motions. He stepped back and watched the masterpiece, which was still incomplete. Sure he had his dear subject sobbing and begging for his mercy, but... He was having all the fun... It spurred the dragon on and he moved closer to the fae again, this time making his way to the front. He saw the blood spilling from the fae's hand. It made the dragons brows grow closer and he took the scalpel with a careful hand, not wanting to open the skin more than what the fae had managed. "Tsk.. If that wasn't enough for you, you should say so~" He looked from the scalpel to the fae's blue pools. What a sight. Sweat made the fae's body glow in the candlelight, his strong muscles put on a show and the dragon grabbed at a bicep before he hummed. "Hmm..." he considered flaying the muscle off of the bone. But, it would greatly tax his dear fae and they were not yet done with his wing...
Instead, the dragon moved closer and tugged at the fae's dark hair to expose his throat. They always became nice and pliant as they swam in the oceans of pain, had he already reached the point of bliss? had he already found the heaven induced by endorphins? Perhaps. The dragon had seen his own heaven, had been in the tranquil place which could leave you in a trance for hours, but over time he had found a greater joy in accessing said heaven by causing others pain. Though the Dragon could take his fill of pain as well. It just wasn't as easily reached through the pain... His fingers stroked the fae's throat for a few moments, while he was lost in thoughts about the high he chased. Then he started to claw at the throat of the other. Leaving red marks in the wake of his nails. Then his long fingers closed around the slender throat much like it had before. Pulling the fae closer to the edge of consciousness.
And then he stopped. Disappearing from the fae's sight once again, to return his attention to the wing. He set to work once again and as the blood became a small spring the dragons forearms were starting to show more crimson than skin. He had a mad look in his eyes, one which spoke of the sadistic pleasure the dragon gained from the other's pain. So when he finally was able to remove the wing he held it up with a lopsided smile and a satisfied glint in his eyes. Proud of his ability with a knife. He walked to the table and put gingerly put down the wing, making sure not to touch the fragile shimmering parts more than necessary. He stood there for a moment, admiring the wing again before he turned his head towards the fae. His exhausted little thing... The dragon gathered more supplies, needle, thread, and cloth. He waltzed over to his side and ruffled the umber locks. "You are doing fabulous, my darling" With that he set to work on closing the wounds. Stitching where he could and eventually cutting the flaps of meat when they couldn't reach. Eventually, he dropped the knife and wiped the blood from the fae's back and let the rest of the supplies fall to the floor. Could the fae survive like this? He was certain the fae had good chances. The dragon was being generous after all. He took the time to stitch him up instead of dropping him in the woods when he bled out here.
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Robin Hood
Bisexual.
Single.
Fae
Authored by Rook.
Offline.
85 posts made.
3 likes.
Djinn
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Post by Djinn on Dec 26, 2017 23:59:24 GMT
The pain kept building until the fae became rather withdrawn. His mind distancing himself from what was happening at the dragon's hands. Djinn's blue eyes rolled up to Eamon but he didn't speak. Didn't say a word as the man clawed at his neck. With the more extreme pain radiating from his back he was all but numb to it. Eventually, Eamon was disappearing to his back again and Djinn could feel the white-hot pain as his back was mutilated further. The strange lightness when his wing was suddenly gone. And then Eamon moved to lay it on the table before him. Djinn just stared. Taking no notice of the continuing pain not Eamon's 'soothing' words. He could just stare at the last remnants of his wings that had been stolen from him.
It was a feeling of utter loss that settled over him. Djinn slumping in the seat weakly with his blue eyes barely open. It made no sense. But they were still gone. Cool air kissed his bare back and finally, the fae found his voice again. "Is...it...over?" There were breaks between his words, long breaths. He felt as if he were barely clinging to consciousness now and truly wished he knew how to just let go. "Are you...done..with me?"
(So shoooooort, sorry <3)
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Healer | Dragon Council Member.
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Deep in you heart, Does it still remain? Do you think you can bring it Back to life?
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Post by Éamon Lyall on Jan 5, 2018 5:56:46 GMT
//Throws an equally short answer your way, sorry but I felt like I needed to answer something >.> Was it over? Oh no, there would be a hell to follow, he would have to settle with being wingless, nobody would believe him if he said he was a fae. The Dragon's hazel eyes studied the fae, judging how much the man could take. He looked like he would pass out any moment, so any further carving was out of the question... Too bad. Eamon approached the fae once again, this time his hand was closed in a fist and after studying the face before him, remembering the features of the otherwise handsome fae. His skin was slick with sweat and he reeked of fear and stress. A sight worth remembering... Now all the fae needed to now was to never find his way back here or he would have to eat him. With a grim face, he raised his hand and gathered as much strength he could into a punch to the fae's face with the goal of making him pass out, so the dragon could drag him out of the village and dump him in the forest of drythwood.
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Robin Hood
Bisexual.
Single.
Fae
Authored by Rook.
Offline.
85 posts made.
3 likes.
Djinn
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Post by Djinn on Jan 6, 2018 20:33:50 GMT
Djinn could take a punch. He had taken many in his time. It was a brawl that had brought him to the dragon's doorstep in the first place. But as weak as he was now it was very simply the straw that broke the camels back. His head snapped to the side and a pained sound tore from his throat before the mutilated fae would slump down in the seat. His corded muscles relaxing and slender frame bowing into itself as much as the restraints would allow.
He would never forget the dragon who stole his remaining wings. Never forget the handsome smile, the way his fingers would caress one moment and tear at his flesh the next. This experience would make him even less trusting of others than before. Would change and shape him in ways that could only be expected.
A wingless fae with a jaded outlook on life. All he had wanted was to get his hand fixed, he never expected any of this.
(if you want we can wrap it up here or with a closer from you <3)
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Healer | Dragon Council Member.
Unknown..
Single. .
Dragon
Authored by Moro..
Offline.
Deep in you heart, Does it still remain? Do you think you can bring it Back to life?
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Post by Éamon Lyall on Jan 8, 2018 11:50:09 GMT
The dragon wasted no time. As soon as the punch made contact and had been executed successfully he moved a step away, given himself time to admire the collapsed body of the fae. It was amazing he had managed to stay awake for the whole thing. Normally he would need to wake them at some point or wait till they regained consciousness. He released the fae from the restraints and threw him over the shoulder with a grunt and carried him upstairs, where he found an old rag which the fae was rolled in and placed in a wheelbarrow outside the house and drove it to the pen where the horse was. It was a good way to a small wood near drythwood. He wouldn't make it all the way to the great forest, but it would serve as the dumping ground. A few glances were given but it wasn't unusual for someone to come into the dragons house and leave on the wheelbarrow. Eamon saddled the horse and was soon on his way. Hopefully, the fae wouldn't ake just yet. [CLOSED]
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