ardent

Pretty as the Vine



Sericea

The Syndicate
Khalif

Expert Fighter (150)

Advanced Intellectual (115)

age
Pup
gender
Female
gems
310
size
Medium
build
Light
posts
48
player
Indie
09-30-2024, 09:30 PM


Over time, Sericea had become quite confident in her abilities to make a silent departure from the Syndicate. Each silent footfall bought more and more distance between the family she was temporarily leaving behind, and the grandsire that she was sneaking away to meet. She absorbed each and every lesson Setekh had taught her like a sponge- utilizing everything he could possibly impart to reach her full potential. Her lean body weaved lithely through the sparse copses of cedar and spruce, her acidic green eyes gleaming with a cunning and intelligence beyond her age. The summer sun dappled through the dense network of leaves overhead, casting the world in a kaleidoscope of green and gold, contrasting sharply against her deep red fur. Her keen eyes traced the familiar path, the uneven terrain littered with mossy boulders, and eventually the trees would vanish- leaving an uninterrupted view of the ruined wall.

The wall, a relic of the past, stood in stark contrast to the lush greenery around it. Its jagged edges and worn-down bricks a testament to whatever ancient hand constructed it. Like a spine along the back of the land, it cut across the thawed tundra with a strange air of … superiority? That wasn’t the right word for it. But the sight of it always filled Sericea with a sense of foreboding and respect. It was a good place to meet her grandfather anyways.

With a glance toward the suns position, she quickened her pace. She knew better than to keep him waiting.

"Sericea Praetor-Inferos"





Setekh

Loner

Master Intellectual (240)

Advanced Fighter (90)

An icon representing the specialty Professor Professor

age
6 Years
gender
Male
gems
299
size
Extra large
build
Balanced
posts
65
player
TrenRanu

Pride - Polysexual
10-30-2024, 04:21 PM
The world was quiet here, a pocket of silence that held its breath as if afraid to disturb the secrets entombed in stone and soil. In the heart of this place, amid the broken ruins that stood from the earth like the bones, a lone figure moved—slender, poised, and waiting. Setekh was a part of the silence, an ivory wraith slipping seamlessly into the contours of the shadows cast by the ruined walls. It was here he had chosen to meet his lovely granddaughter.

Sericea, his student, was but a speck moving towards him, her red fur catching shards of the setting sun as she wove her way. He watched her, his eyes tracking each movement with a silent, exact scrutiny. Each step, each breath she took betrayed the growth she'd undergone under his tutelage, her form moving with an elegance and purpose few her age possessed. She was a product of his making now, a vessel he had filled and would continue to fill with skill and knowledge, layer by meticulous layer, until she no longer resembled the unshaped clay she'd once been. Until she was far more perfect than he had thought of his dear Absinth.

His gaze narrowed, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes as he observed her approach, watching as she threaded through the delicate balance between alertness and composure. That confidence, did she know how fragile it was? How age would refine it into a steely wall of fortitude…? She must know he was there already; she could feel his presence as surely as a heartbeat under the skin of the world—wasn’t that so? He relished in this—the anticipation, the game of letting her come to him, knowing she was eager, letting her imagine she was in control of her steps even as he orchestrated the dance between them. After all, she was coming here in secret—her parents none the wiser to save her from him.

When she was close enough, the Ivory God stepped forward from his place within the ruins, he met her with a languid grace, a predator’s measured approach softened by the indulgent curve of his smile. His gaze traveled over her, a slow, deliberate analysis that held both pride and a possessive gleam, like a craftsman admiring the subtleties of his creation. "Sericea," he murmured, the name slipping from his tongue like silk as his voice curled through the stillness, low and rich with approval. "Silent as the shadows themselves, you've become."

There was a satisfaction in his tone, but beneath it, something darker—a thread of intrigue, of hunger, as he watched her with a gaze that stripped away the trivialities, piercing straight to the essence she was only beginning to wield. Oh the places she would go, and all within the palm of his hands.




"speaking" | voices


Rated R for mature themes, gore, violence, and abuse.



Sericea

The Syndicate
Khalif

Expert Fighter (150)

Advanced Intellectual (115)

age
Pup
gender
Female
gems
310
size
Medium
build
Light
posts
48
player
Indie
11-01-2024, 09:02 PM


Sericea emerged from the underbrush, her heart quickening as she finally spotted him. Setekh stood in the shadow of the wall, his ivory coat gleaming with an ethereal glow in the waning sunlight, an imposing figure woven from myth and reality. She took a moment to catch her breath, acutely aware of the taut anticipation crackling in the air between them.

“Grandfather,” she called out, her voice a mixture of reverence and … something else. Awe, and uncertainty. “I came as quickly as I could.” Sericea felt a mixture of warmth and unease wash over her at his words. The fluttering in her chest intensified under his scrutinizing gaze, as if each glance sought to peel back layers of her resolve. She met his eyes, the acidic green depths reflecting back a hint of her own nervous energy, but she silenced the unsettling voice whispering caution in the back of her mind. Instead, she pushed forward, driven by the desire to impress him, to be worthy of the lordly smile he offered.

"Have I pleased you?" She ventured, a spark of boldness igniting within her. What came next would determine the rhythm of their interaction, and she craved his affirmation like a drought-stricken earth yearned for rain. “I’ve been practicing … ” she added, her voice betraying a slight tremor despite her attempt at appearing strong and composed.

"Sericea Praetor-Inferos"





Setekh

Loner

Master Intellectual (240)

Advanced Fighter (90)

An icon representing the specialty Professor Professor

age
6 Years
gender
Male
gems
299
size
Extra large
build
Balanced
posts
65
player
TrenRanu

Pride - Polysexual
11-02-2024, 12:02 AM (This post was last modified: 11-02-2024, 12:06 AM by Setekh. Edited 1 time in total.)
Setekh watched her with a subtle pride, her crimson form a daring stroke against the muted gray of the ancient stone. So pretty Too pretty. She was a work of art, one he was loathe to admit he was glad of Absinth’s defiance since it had amounted to such a treat. Every move she made held the weight of youthful purpose, her need for his favor drawing her here in defiance of all else. It was a familiar hunger he saw in her, one he had sowed and tended, cultivating her loyalty into a secret fire, luring her to him like a moth to a flame unseen. Her mother was completely unaware, just as he intended. This secret they shared was the crucible, the forging of something exquisite.

“My precious Sericea,” he murmured, savoring her name, every syllable a delicate thread of honey dripping from his tongue. “You draw nearer to the image I envisioned of you. Soon, you’ll wield even silence itself as an ally.” His voice held the satisfaction of a sculptor admiring his work, his words meant to curl around her with a dark promise. A compliment and a bind. As he drew nearer, his steps deliberate and smooth, the voices rose within him, weaving their murmurs into his thoughts. A seed in her soul, a fire to stoke; her strength is the silence, a spell yet bespoke! He tilted his head, watching her boldness flicker, savoring how she clung to her courage, still unaware of its fragility. But he enjoyed that, too.

“You wish to please me, and indeed you have,” he said, letting a note of indulgent warmth color his tone. But beneath it, the sharpened edge of a question gleamed. He reached out, offering her a gentle caress of her cheek and a claw against her jawbone as he retracted soon after. “Yet do you understand why, Sericea? What it is within me that drives your devotion?” His gaze narrowed, studying her with a fascination that was almost feral, the challenge daring her to answer. What would her answer be?

“What is it that stirs within you?” he continued, his voice a soft command, molten orbs swirling in complete focus as he awaited her answer. “Do you crave mastery, the thrill of it…? or is it something deeper, something unknown to even you?” He held her gaze, searching her expression, watching for the first spark of revelation, that tremor of vulnerability she might betray. Oh, a heart to sway, a mind to claim; she’s drawn to your shadow, and she’ll learn your name.

He did not wait for an answer, it was more tantalizing to let her ponder the question all the same. Letting his mind go quiet, he placed a paw gently on her opposite shoulder, a calculated touch of both dominance and reassurance, he pulled her into his chest. “For our next lesson, my dear,” he said softly, his voice low and rich, like silk sliding through the air, “heed this: True power is an unseen thread woven in whispers, in glances that bear unseen weight. It is the art of influence.”

He withdrew his paw, inclining his head slightly, his gaze sharpening with expectation and delight. “When you speak, let them lean in, let them feel the weight of your silence. Let them think they hold your attention while you master their thoughts, winding them into knots with their own desires, their own needs.”

To lead and deceive, to bind and release—yes, yes, let her revel in control! the voices chanted, their words layered like a spell. A soul to ensnare, a will laid bare! His smile deepened, curling with dark amusement, his possessive gaze claiming her as both kin and creation. Yes. Quiet. He commanded his own mind.

“Show me, Sericea,” he urged, his voice dropping to a low summons. “Show me how you would command another’s gaze, whisper to their hidden fears, speak to their dreams.” His tone softened, coaxing, almost daring. “I will be your mirror, a world to bend beneath your will. Let me see if you can wield this weapon as your own.”

Of course, she was young. But her mother had been no older when he’d laid these same foundations. Would Sericea succeed where Absinth had faltered? The test was in her hands.



"speaking" | voices


Rated R for mature themes, gore, violence, and abuse.



Sericea

The Syndicate
Khalif

Expert Fighter (150)

Advanced Intellectual (115)

age
Pup
gender
Female
gems
310
size
Medium
build
Light
posts
48
player
Indie
11-02-2024, 11:39 PM


Sericea felt a shiver ripple through her at Setekh's words, his honeyed voice both a caress and a subtle warning. She sensed the threads of power woven into his praise, binding her ever tighter to his vision. A part of her wanted to shy away from the intensity of his gaze, to retreat into the safety of her youth. But a larger part craved his approval, hungered for the dark promise in his words.

She felt the weight of Setekh's question settle upon her like a mantle, heavy with unspoken expectations. She met his molten gaze, her own acidic green eyes flickering with a myriad of emotions - devotion, uncertainty, a desperate need to prove herself worthy of his tutelage. Sericea swallowed hard, gathering her thoughts before answering. "I crave... worth." she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want to be more. I want to stand out, to be exceptional. To be worthy." Her words hung in the air between them, a confession born from the deepest recesses of her heart.

She took a step closer to Setekh, her movements deliberate yet tentative, as if testing the boundaries of their dynamic. "I want to learn from you, to become everything you see in me," Sericea continued, her voice gaining strength as she spoke. "Your teachings, your vision - they ignite something inside me. A hunger to be more.” She lifted her chin, meeting Setekh's piercing gaze head-on. In that moment, she felt a flicker of the power he promised, the potential waiting to be unleashed under his guidance. It was intoxicating, this sense of purpose, of being chosen for something greater.

Sericea felt the warmth of Setekh's touch linger on her shoulder even as he withdrew, his words echoing in her mind like a dark lullaby. She leaned into his chest for a fleeting moment, savoring the closeness, the sense of being enveloped in his power and presence. As he pulled back, she met his gaze, her eyes alight with a newfound determination.

"Influence," she repeated softly, testing the word on her tongue as if tasting its potency- her attention hinging on his every word. She began to nod slowly, absorbing Setekh's lesson. She could feel the weight of his expectations settling upon her shoulders, but rather than bowing under the pressure, she felt herself standing taller, rising to meet the challenge. "I understand, Grandfather," she said, her voice steady despite the nervous energy thrumming through her veins.

Sericea drew in a deep breath, steeling herself for the task at hand. Setekh's challenge hung in the air between them, a gauntlet thrown down, daring her to prove her mettle. She met his gaze, her acidic green eyes reflecting a glimmer of his own molten intensity. Slowly, deliberately, she began to circle him, her movements fluid and graceful, like a dancer weaving a spell. "You seek power, Grandfather," she murmured, her voice low and honeyed, a siren's call. She was not totally blinded by a child’s innocence. She knew what the glint of ambition looked like- or so she thought. "You crave control, the thrill of bending others to your will?" Sericea let her words hang in the air, trailing off as if they were more of a question than an accusation- allowing the silence to stretch between them, heavy with unspoken implications.

She paused behind Setekh, just out of his line of sight, her presence a tangible force at his back. "But what drives that hunger?" she whispered, her breath ghosting in exhale. "Is it the need to prove yourself, to rise above those who would doubt your greatness?" She moved to face him once more, her gaze locking with his, unflinching. Sericea continued circling Setekh, her gaze never wavering from his. "Or perhaps, it is something deeper," she mused, her voice taking on a softer, almost sympathetic tone.

"Sericea Praetor-Inferos"