I need batteries recharge.
See you with new fresh ideas and beautiful writing in next two months 🙂
Saru without water is nothing but a screaming flesh in ruins. Water gives them not only life, but also sanity. Saru without water is lost, filled with the pain of hundreds of dry deserts.
Kosel was left without even a drop of it.
His skin already reminded of parchment, painfully stretched over his body. Kosel was strong, trained to not give up too quickly, but lack of life-giving water had already taken its toll.
Pain.
And need, unquenched, hungry, cruel.
He knew he would lose his mind, if they prolong it. But Kosel knew that he couldn’t expect mercy from the Unseelie. “High Fae” as they called themselves, were a scourge of all lands. When they were ruled by summer or autumn kings, they were more prone to mercy. When they were under the reign of winter…
His land was conquered and enslaved, in a cruel war that took much more from them. Took more lives, more pain, more everything. Kosel lost his son, and his daughter was taken as a slave to Dal’coler. That’s why he had to become a spy. Had to become a trained warrior, a blade in the darkness which High Fae loved so much. And even if he knew that Saru were lost, he had to try to see if his daughter still lives.
Saru were lost. Taking a hand of something they didn’t understand. Whispers in dreams, tempting, allowing them to dream they can dethrone the darkness and be free… but the price they will all need to pay was too big. The gods won’t allow them to live. Kosel knew well what pacting with gods meant.
They will be all eaten.
They will be drained.
But maybe for them, for us, it’s better than life in fear.
He only wanted to know if his daughter lives… and if she suffers.
He licked his parched lips. Water. He minds latching to those thoughts, not good thoughts by any means, to not think of dry deserts on his tongue, sand under his eyelids. Tiny, cruel grains, a feeling that reminded him how little time he has.
The scene he saw when he was dragged before the winter king… blood, its scent, iron-like, awful. The mangled corpses under his feet. And that woman… He couldn’t get it off his mind. The chamber was filled with death. Something he knew he would see here… but the intensity of it pressed him to the ground.
He wasn’t chained. The round cell he was placed in was small and claustrophobic. They probably have seen him as so harmless that he doesn’t need to be bound. He hoped he can still oppose, even dried out, even in this state. At least he will die by his own rules, in a way he finds best for him. Not in an Unseelie way.
He was kept here for only three days. Three days, counted with his inner sense. But lack of water was making it feel like ages. He would welcome the High Fae even if that meant the end of dryness. They were better than it, as much as he feared them.
He knew there are worse things on an astral plane, than any Fae. There were worse things, which allowed the Saru elders to see their thoughts. They were fire, which was enemies of the water. They could promise them freedom, but it will be freedom filled with flames.
Saru were lost.
He was lost.
A realization that still didn’t come to the surface of the elders. But it will. When it will be too late.
Kosel raised his head, his heavy eyelids sticking to his scleras.
Someone was speaking. A soft voice against the more feminine one. He couldn’t recognize any of them. His senses were blurred, his mind drifting in past and future.
He felt it was night. His back bloomed with crimson scales, which tried to catch the water from the air. Cold, cold air, which surely had some of it. From walls, from underground. They shivered in futile attempts and Kosel realized that it must be the Unseelie magic blocking the water. Any water, from everywhere.
What did he expect though?
The door creaked. Kosel’s eyes opened, forcefully, weakly, the light blossomed under his eyelids. Dim, muted, fairy lights amassing around the figure entering his cell.
And he was immediately pushed against the wall, arms splayed over the stone, his scales protesting when they crushed under his back. His eyes fluttering slightly, now he managed to see who visited him.
Lorian slowly approached him, with a small smile on his lips. His shadows pressed the Saru spy harder, so he couldn’t move, couldn’t attack him.
Attacking him… Kosel knew he had no chance.
Lorian inspected the room nonchalantly. There was a certain dose of curiosity in his black gaze, like he truly was interested in it. The small smile still present, when the shadows pushed harder. And harder again, flattening the Saru completely.
He will break my bones.
No.
He won’t.
He needs him for informations.
At least he hoped so.
He felt fingers in his hair, long, just like his own. Saru and Unseelie were so similar. But the gods created the latter with the vile intent. For they fed on other lands and later… the gods would feed on their delicious power. Stronger, better, so tasty…
“I am sure that lack of water is uncomfortable” he heard Lorian’s voice, just near his cheek, calm, deep, soft – almost a purr. “I can feel you drying out.”
Kosel could feel the water. In Lorian’s body. His whole being was tearing to drown in him, to drink it, life-giving, soothing… so close… but so far away, closed in a body that he couldn’t reach.
And Lorian of course knew it.
His breath, warm and pleasantly scentsy, reached the skin on his neck. Kosel involuntarily tried to toss forth to reach any wet that he could extract from it. Lorian was filled with liquids, Kosel’s throat became even drier, craving for it.
Lorian laughed, so close to his ear… and licked his skin.
His tongue, wet, soothing and delightful, trailed a path on his neck. Kosel shivered, not wanting to give in, but giving in to it, absorbing the water, at least this small amount. He was starved and tired. He felt as his skin warms up, like going back to life.
Lorian licked the other side of his neck and Kosel pushed out a pained moan. Wet. So good. His scales on the back tried to erect with joy, but they were flattened against the hard wall. His throat pulsed with need to swallow the liquid Lorian left on his skin.
Lorian’s tongue reached his collarbone, and suddenly withdrew, leaving Kosel panting with thirst even stronger than before; he got a taste of wetness and couldn’t stand the lack of it.
His mouth was filled with sand, his eyes hurt, but the skin on his neck was given life again.
“You are hungry. And I can respect that” Lorian’s voice reached his ears, the pressure on his chest diminished and he collapsed against the wall. “I can give you what you need. Because that’s what you want” his lips curled in a smile. “More.”
Kosel couldn’t force himself to nod. He was taught to stand the torture… stand the pain… but no one could train the Saru to cope with the lack of water. This was their weakness. Known by the enemy.
His daughter.
If she was subjected to it as well…
“I know why you are here, ” Lorian continued looking at him. “Why you want to kill the vessel. And why you wanted to reach Dal’coler. You have scores to settle. You hoped for a reunion.”
Kosel’s eyes, even if dry and tired, widened. He knew. How? That didn’t matter, though. He knew.
“My daughter…”
“She is alive – strong, unbeatable soul. And you will get the reunion you crave for so much. You will be even able to go home with her, into the safety of your land.”
Kosel couldn’t believe his ears. Homeland. Which wasn’t safe anymore. But safer than here, where he predicted to die. Does he plan to torture him and Sarsha? Send them both in pieces to home, as an example? Dry and torn, like autumn leaves?
Again, a laugh. But Lorian’s voice was serious.
“How much of elders’ thoughts are actually gods’ ones?” he mused. “How hard did they drill their heads? And how deep it goes? I won’t see this in your mind. You are just a pawn, sent to stop me from doing what I think is best for me… and my court. But…”
He got closer again. Water. Warm, in blood, in veins, in his saliva. He needed it.
“But… a lonely darkness, just in the heart of everything… your skills can’t endanger me… but can be very useful. You are not awaited… and that’s the most beautiful part of it.”
He licked his finger and trailed a path over Kosel’s lip. Kosel took it in, took the finger, not believing how easy it was to break him. Water. The life. And death. Humiliating, wonderful water. He knew how pitiful he had to look now. But he couldn’t stand the deserts.
“No” chuckled Lorian. “You are not broken yet. But I will make sure you are.”
And his mind attacked Kosel’s one with full force.
Forced hard in every cell, in every crevice, filling them with night, eating every thought of resistance, faithfulness, loyalty. Consuming his past and replacing it with the future – the one connected with Dal’coler, putting into it the unwanted love to his enemy. He shattered him, to rebuild him once again, destroyed him, to sculpt from him a willing lover. His daughter… the thought of her seemed to resist the most, but Lorian’s power enveloped it and crushed. Created a vision of her in his mind, which he still would be able to care for… but she won’t bind him anymore with his past life.
Kosel shivered, but didn’t utter even a word. No screams, while the pain entered his mind and cruelly played with his thoughts amd memories. Sucking the last drops of himself from his soul.
Kosel was never a slave.
And even now, he didn’t believe he was one.
He was not mindless, but completely unaware of devotion that was injected just into his mind.
To go back to his homeland.
And do what he needs to do.
He collapsed again on the floor, a small trail of blood leaving his ear – but he couldn’t see the azure path it dripped through on his arm.
Lorian crouched next to him and smiled, with this beautiful smile, which Kosel loved. The water in Lorian tempted him now even more, his veins pulsed with want, his throat itched for even a small drop of it.
He found amusement in Lorian’s eyes. Something that will drag him into the pit of longing everytime he reminds himself of it.
“Now… I think you deserve a good reward.”
For Darkenaz, featuring her shapeshifting dragon character, Jev.
——
I dig my talons in the flesh of the man who fucks me. I bury deeper and I know the man doesn’t mind it. I see in his mind a devious and twisted need and I find it thrilling. My female body presses hard to his, he moves hungrily, the blood of the woman we killed, dripping between us. Thick strings sticking to us, while her dead eyes seem to follow our passion, as we make her blood live. His thoughts echoe in mine, and I can feel his ecstasy. So well fitting to the one he shows outside.
I lean to his ear, pointy one, elf-like.
“This drives me so much… all of this” I push him harder inside me with my legs. His body is like made for this, toned, well-built, but not too much, filled with energy and passion.
I needed this.
“She begged for mercy in an enthralling way…” he forces deeper, I feel a pleasant shiver down my spine. He reads my mind just as I read his, he knows what pace, what pressure I like most. I love all kinds of sex… but some things never change. I have my own sets of favorites.
And I know what makes him abandon.
What makes him hard most. Violence. And control. Pain. Not only of his victims.
I pull him even harder, fingers deep in the skin on his back, droplets of blood, blue, like the clear sky.
“All humans beg for mercy” I purr, my blue hair receiving him and I allow him to bury his hand in my tangles. My thighs press hard, harder, I feel him spreading me.
“Intoxicating…” he whispers in my ear and I know he really thinks so – just like me. Humans, begging, bleeding… perfect aphrodisiac. For both of us.
His shadows penetrate my body alongside with him, sensing me, passing my pleasure to him, giving me a taste of his own rapture, and this is so similar to what I know of black-flame elves… but also different… a new species to fuck, an elf yes, but not completely.
And I have never had an elf yet…
My hips meet him at a faster pace, we are close, both. I drip between my thighs, my body receives exactly the treatment I like.
He hits the spot.
I roll over him, to stride him, to look at him when he rides his climax, look at him as he lays under me, pulsing inside. My hands bury in his short thick hair, pull, hard and I sigh, when he fills me with his release. I feel his climax, when my own rushes through my body. His own pleasure transferred between us, drowning us, making our bodies shiver.
Delicious.
I needed it.
I needed it and didn’t even know how much.
His eyes meet mine. Our thoughts intertwine. It’s the first time I can hear my own thoughts in someone’s mind. Someone who is like me, in more than one aspect. He sees this thought too – of course – and laughs, so beautifully. If I was a lesser being, it would bring me to my knees. But I am not.
My muscles relax, I still twitch between my legs, I feel he throbs too. We both love it. We love fucking. I hope this week will be long and allows me to go as deep as I need.
The throbs slowly fade, pulling me back to reality, leaving me pleased and filled.
For now, I think.
“Your world never ceases to intrigue me” he muses, slowly separating from me, standing up, He finds his scattered clothes; pulls up the tight black trousers and feathered shirt. “But humans feel the same fear and pain. That never changes.”
“They are perfect playthings. Perfect amusement” I stand up as well, pulling something on myself as well.
Devin’s t-shirt.
Fuck it.
He is absent and I don’t need to wait for him. I never needed it.
I am a dragon, and I am one to rule. I am the one to play the winning figure in this game. Even if he is so under my skin…
I see an amused glint in Lorian’s black eyes. He told me about his women. I wonder suddenly, if he would wait for any of them in a way I wait for Devin.
“Waiting is good, Jevon” he pins his upper shirt with an azure gem. “But only if you get a good reward.”
Now, I want him to not be able to look into my mind. But… I see it in him as well. Years of pain. Cruel suffering he takes in himself willingly and with sick joy. Twisted. But in some way… tempting.
He doesn’t smile anymore. He is torn between two women, between his desire for life and never ending agony. And he knows I see it all. Possibly first time in his long life. I am a first person who see past his masks. I know he finds it both intriguing, attractive and uncomfortable.
We are pulling all out on the plain sight.
“Time to show hospitality to our guest” I grin. No more doubts. Not when he can read all of them. I know he doesn’t know nor care about Devin.
I could not think.
Not delve into this.
But Lorian seems to understand, in some dettached, alien way. Fey kind is both passionate and cold. A mix that can be terrifying.
I will love to see how much terrifying we can be.
*
“You like it raw?”
Lorian doesn’t feel good in the kitchen. He possibly never had to cook in his palace, which – this time – amuses me. But he is not the type to be offended. He knows his worth, and that is one of the things I like in him. Powerful, like me. But not pushing this, he just beams – tastily – with self confidence.
We are so alike.
I suddenly feel I want to fuck again.
Especially when I see the fearfully open eyes and struggles of the captive man. He possibly sees in us… serial killers, a deadly couple who finds thrill in killing random strangers. He doesn’t even suspect who we really are. Kings. Almost gods to his weak kind.
“Raw has the best taste” I grin at him, a slender finger in my hand.
“I think every good meal needs additional care” Lorian slowly lifts the spoon with meat on it. Her meat, human flesh, so well cooked. He learns kitchen rules, slowly – if we forget the incident with shadows. His playful gaze slowly lands on the captive man, passes him, and lays on me. My smile is cruel, when I bite the finger, savoring the taste of the human woman. I know how cruel my smile can be.
“Please… let me go…” a voice reaches us, the shock has to be big, because he doesn’t recognize his wife’s finger. Strange that he doesn’t. But he will. Now, he almost wets himself.
“Oh, allow us to take care of you” Lorian puts the spoon again in the pan. “It would be such an ungrateful thing, to just leave us alone, in such an unsatisfied need for being the good hosts.”
“We brim with need” I smile, my smile seems to scare the human even more.
He tries to retreat, when we approach him, two looming figures, powerful in their dominance. Lorian’s shadows lift him up a bit, closing hard on his throat. He moans in pain, but Lorian pulls him ever higher.
I allow my dragon features to bloom. Blue, like the sky. Like Lorian’s blood. Like the eyes of the captive man. I bathe in blue and in my glory, when I become a god of myths before him. Lorian’s form flickers and becomes more smoky, darker… more dangerous. A shadow incarnate. Which I want to explore later. Let him into my every crevice.
“I like your experimental nature, dragon.”
“And I like your surprises, fae.”
This human isn’t able to comprehend who we are… what we are. If he knew that world he knows is just the beginning, with so many wonders to discover… and of course predators to fear.
He looks at us with a plea in his eyes… I feel how Lorian feeds on his fear. I never met anyone like him. Devin… he would condemn us now. He has his own rules, despises feasting on suffering. An own moral code, which doesn’t include killing for fun.
But Devin is not my god.
“Please… release me, I won’t tell anyone about you…”
The human lost his hope, I can feel it in his mind. Still, it’s natural for humans. To beg.
Lorian chuckles. I like his laugh. Soft, deep… but touched with darkness. Which makes it even more interesting.
“Your wife will surely love to become part of us. Consider it a feast of senses… she will please us… with her flesh.”
“Eating someone out never had more apt meaning” I add, seeing pure fear widening human’s eyes.
Lorian pats him over his cheek, with a tender move, a kind expression lighting his face. I see that this act becomes too much for the human. This fake care. He knows how to disturb the weak mind.
“Do not worry” I add, dark gleams in my eyes. “We will share with you. The best morsels.”
We would rule the world, if this had chances to last.
But I already savor how much pleasure I can squeeze from Lorian, how much I can give him and take from him. I know he doesn’t belong here and I won’t stop him from returning. But what will be mine, will always be mine.
It will be a glorious week.
It’s time to continue actual chapters – I got drown into these unhinged NSFW stories 😱
Next chapters will be still from Dal’coler. Prepare for mayhem.
The fairy lights, attracted by Nymre’s fury, danced around her and dispersed as she flicked them away with her gloved hand.
Lorian…
His secrets, his lies, his… everything. Her spells drowned in his dark aura, swallowed by a sea of old blood – sticky, heavy, reaching for her with tendrils of oil-black night. She felt it curling around her, pulling her deeper into the blackened soil of his deception. Her mausoleum of false hope.
Her grave of wishful thinking.
And now – now that she knew. Knew what he was doing. Knew what he had subjected himself to. The torment he had chosen. She was furious. More than furious. The past screamed at her how things had changed, how nothing – nothing – could bring it back.
But the cruelest truth? She loved him. Wildly. Foolishly. And in his own twisted way, he loved her, too.
A poison cloaked in silk and gold. A well in which she sat, chained, even as the locks lay open.
She felt his arms slip around her.
“Your mind creates the most enticing visions, my raven…”
Her jaw tightened. His presence clung to her like honey – sweet, binding, impossible to escape. Like a spider’s silk strung between her ribs, tightening with every breath.
“You are a hopeless liar, Lorian,” she growled, voice thick with suppressed fury – a beast lurking beneath the veneer of beauty. “How long would you have kept this from me? How long would you suffer alone until it consumed you whole? You dared to love me while those gods drilled agony into your body. You knew how I would react, yet you continued your lies. And now – now you decide on a whim that it’s enough?”
She shoved free of his embrace, turning to face him, her eyes burning white with rage.
Lorian did not falter. His smile remained, his aura pooled around her – warm, suffocating, intoxicating. She knew this gaze; she had been drowning in it before. But this time, she would pull something from its depths.
A confession. A promise. Something he could so easily break again.
She wanted to hate him. But instead she adored him.
No, she hated him now. Even though she knew it was only temporary.
Somehow she tortured herself with vicious pain as much as he did. But he was her god from whom she drank.
“Ah, but perhaps you were too proud?” her finger touched his chest. Feathers from his robe brushed her hand. Raven feathers. Her lips curved into a grin. “Afraid of weakness, that this pain will make you look less good in my eyes?”
Lorian… laughed. His hand moved to her hair, but she caught it in mid-movement. He smiled wider.
“You read minds no less skilfully than I do. My cruel raven, exposing my motives faster than I find your spells buried within me to extract the truth.”
“You dare to compare!” she scoffed. Her fingers still clasped his hand, held in front of her like a defiant trophy. “Put away your masks once and for all. You can parade them in front of your pet, Leira, but not in front of me. I have known you too long, Lorian. And I am not a fragile human you can deceive and destroy.”
His eyes smiled. She saw that he was amused, which made her angry. But before she could think of anything else to say… his features lost their youthful mockery. His eyes shone with attractive earnestness. He drew back his hand, which she released. She could feel his aura lighter, less tense, less overpowering.
“This was never a joke, Nymre. This pain is no joke.”
“Why? Why did you never tell me?”
His bitter smile brought a retreating storm to one’s mind.
“Because you would want to stop me.”
“Of course I would. I would never let you…”
“And that is not an option and never has been. I’m addicted and even if I wasn’t… you know very well how this would end. With death. Not just our court’s. Yours. Mine. I could not care for them, but I would never allow us to perish. They would have awoken years ago, if not for me. And they would leave wreckage behind, drowning us in our own magic.”
He moved closer to her. This time she let him. Her anger still flared within her, but muted, dull, like a pain in an old wound.
“We are old creatures, Nymre,” he whispered in her ear. “And lies cling to us. We are cobwebs that attract secrets…”
She felt the dark flame, radiating with his power, pulling her into the abyss. Her own aura pulsed around the shadows, pulling at her.
She was lost.
He was lost.
She pushed him away herself.
She could see how this would end.
But… this was the only way, and they both knew it.
He grinned at her, his smile cruel, just the way she loved it.
“No.”
His expression changed, as if touched by starlight. Like a black sun coming out of a total eclipse. They both needed it. Forget the tension. Forget the looming danger. Destroy the web of uncertainty that spread between them, devour the doubt, allow for forgetfulness. And paint it with blood.
Curse it, Lorian.
His hand reached her hair again, moving slowly down, through her chin; to her neck, to finally caress it, a slow, slow movement. She felt the scent of his aura, sweeter now, thicker.
“Your burning rage is intoxicating. Filling, like human fear…”
“Human fear!” she chuckled, but allowed his caress… allowed it. Leaned into it, against her will. “I’ll never fear you. Not like this.”
“Even if I pull out your feathers, one by one…” his voice a tease and a threat.
“Just like those poor birds those fools killed to sew you a robe,” her laughter was no less cruel.
“No…” he purred. “It will be much more painful…”
Her heart beat like a wild drum. Pulsed with lingering rage. He won’t have her.
And that was the most beautiful and desirable thing of all…
He caught her by the waist and pulled her closer. The warmth she felt from him, boiling shadows into which he poured the power of those hopeless gods he ate every day, licked her like a lover, like a flame.
He caught her hands and bent them behind her back. She threw in his grasp, her smile wild and defiant. She was his cruel raven. And he was her dark king.
“You are perfect when you seethe with rage…”
And he bit her. Hard.
Just above the collarbone, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh. Blue blood began to trickle, slow, mesmerising. There was something in it, the pain and all the pleasure, that made her moan, desperate and needy.
Desperate to please.
“Fuck you…”
“I’d rather have your welcoming body…”
He lifted her up, her wings hitting him with all the strength they had as he dragged her with him and threw her onto the bed.
Feathers fell from the wings. Pulled by her struggle.
“If you let one more fall…”
“I’ll rip them all off your back…” he whispered into her neck and she couldn’t stop herself from moaning. Pleasure washed over her in a warm sea of pure desire. “I’m going to do such exciting things to you…”
“If you dare…”
He laughed. In that beautiful and threatening way she loved so much. No, admired. Adored.
He pinned her brutally to the bed as she wriggled wildly, trying to crawl out from under him, fighting him, not letting him…
… allow. Completely.
His one hand closed over her throat, nails digging into a place where he had bitten her; she welcomed it with a sigh as she still struggled, kicking him off her body with her legs, powerful kicks, to cause pain, to hurt him.
His hand blocked her air completely, blood trickling down his fingers, staining the sheets azure blue. Her convulsive gasps only made him press harder against her, pinning her to the bed with his body, his shadows slowly entering between her legs, so cruel and hot.
“Shall I have you like this?” he purred, just in her ear as she struggled for breath. “On the verge of death, squeezing the life out of you?”
Her claws dug into his flanks, drawing blood, his back arching slightly and she knew he loved it. His black eyes shone with fierce desire.
She wanted to run.
She wanted to feel him slowly sending her into oblivion…
He released her throat, her lungs filled with a blessing of air. She saw, as if through mist, how he pulled himself out of his trousers, how he drew her violently closer.
Her feathers…
…scattered about, his trophy…
He silenced her again, so easily. Leaning over her, he cupped her cheeks, her eyes hating and admiring him.
“You want it so much… a willing raven…”
“Never… ever…”
His kiss was like molten iron, killing her inside, pouring shadows down her throat, hot and merciless. So delicious, so wrong, a taste of burning violet mist… His other hand slipped between her legs. She squeezed them tight, so tight, resisting him with everything she had, but he opened them, forcefully… and she was wet… so much of it pooled between her thighs as his fingers entered her, rubbing inside.
“You…”
She thrashed wildly, his fingers deeper inside her, she pressed herself against them, a desperate and angry moan leaving her mouth, straight into him, he swallowed her again, with a fierce kiss.
“I’ll kill you if you come inside me,” she moaned, but her thighs were dripping with wetness and her eyes were shining as viciously as they were victorious.
He smiled at her and, despite her protest, she pulled his fingers out.
And thrust himself into her.
Violently.
Hard.
Her wings trembled in convulsions, flapping against him, losing feathers where his hands pressed her to the bed – trying to hit where it would hurt him the most. But he fucked her into the pillows, oblivious to her attempts, with that beautiful, cruel smile she loved more than anything.
He pressed her even harder against the bed, almost melting into her. His wild thrusts sent shivers down her spine, wet flickers inside her, like tiny tongues, hungry mouths. Shadows crept, right inside her, licking her with heat, painful, pleasant, all the same…
“…you will pay so much for this…”
“I’m counting on your imagination… and your skilled hands…”
She came quickly, she always came quickly when he was violent with her. She buried her face in his arm and gave him a desperate growl.
“You’re the best prey I ever had,” he murmured as he filled her with his release. Hot, shadowed, just like himself.
“You horrible, awful…” she moaned, but the feeling of him coming inside her was too delicious not to give in completely. He took in the scent her hair and she pulled him closer, caressing him with her feathers; a pleasure only she could give him.
She knew they hadn’t solved their problems. They hung over them like the moon over Ain’asel… huge and threatening.
But it was sweet, the abandonment of what they loved most.
Hungry gods at one end of that tangled rope.
And the foolish human slowly reaching Dal’coler, weak and pathetic, at the other.
A human he chose. A human who travelled here… to die. Shining with the gentle light of mortality.
Lorian…
…. has always loved the taste of this.
All my Lorian videos on one place!