[D2 LE] No Aphrodisiac (Chantelle’s Apartment)

[Chantelle Rossette]

Despite herself, the beast’s primal strength was alluring; Chantelle blinked slowly, looking up at him from under hooded eyes. She doubted that Shana was as delicate and birdlike as her own lightweight bones, but—foolishly, perhaps—she trusted the beast. “mais, I did’n’ expec’ an inferno,” maybe her mistake had been underestimating how easily Marcus would ignite, “bu’ more a slow burn.”

[Marcus Kendall]

"I am little else." Chantelle could feel the heat of his breath despite the thin layer of feathers that covered her skin. "That is what I have become." the beast took a step back, sneering in a hyena like fashion. There was a whiff of marshmallow - Marcus was bemused. "I don't know how it's for you." his tone was now more serious. "But I have this desire, no, more a need to claw and maim. When I hear what the demons have done to people my blood boils. Makes me want to run there, chase them and rip their throats open." Fury and blood lust clung in the air, banishing all the sweeter scents.

[Chantelle Rossette]

She didn't fully understand, she couldn't fully understand. She knew the power of the need, the desperate craving that had followed her back from her Keeper's halls, the demon in her heart that demanded heads turn when she passed, that fed on their attention even as she despised the hollowness of it all. She drank from the wellspring of their longing looks, even though she knew it to be thin and shallow, forgotten by the time she'd turned the corner.

So, no, she didn't understand his burning fury; but she understood desire, lust, need, want, the craving that fuelled her Court. It came in many flavours and colours, it merged and blended with the other Courts: the sorrow of love denied, the fear of love lost, the anger of love betrayed; they complemented and sweetened each other, they needed each other.

Chantelle touched his cheek, "mais, maybe you'll le' me ban' down dose fires one evenin'." Her desire for the beast's power was a wine-red undercurrent as she sought to calm him, but the delicate lavender scent began to dampen the coppery taste of blood.


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[D2 LE] Soothe the Beast (Composure 3, Empathy 2, Calming 1, Dramatic Voice 1): 7d10o10h8 1

[Marcus Kendall]

"Mhmhm." Marcus murmured, leaning his snout against her hand. "Maybe. They never really die." The fur on his face was finer than that on his shoulders and there were fewer scraps of lichen as well. "Even in my sleep, I dream of blood and death. Mine or others." She could sense a faint scent of autumn rains, the scent of sorrow. "You feel nice."
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OOC: Am I allowed to take a critical fail? Is this opposed roll? LOL. I wish I had any idea.

[Chantelle Rossette]

"I neva wan' to see your fire go out," Chantelle's thumb stroked his muzzle, spidery fingers cupping the beast's chin. "I can no' promise you a momen' of peace, bu' if you don' go rushin' 'eadlong like wildfire, maybe I can distrac' you from de bloo' dreams fo' a spell. If you woul' li'," she hedged, wary of his warning about playing with his emotions.


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Not contested, just a measure of how convincing Chantelle is.

[Marcus Kendall]

"Mhmh. Won't as long as I breath." Marcus noted more solemnly. Seeing that she was close, he gave her a lick, running his rough tongue from her chest to her neck and all the way to the base of her beak. "You promise?" Marcus asked.

[Chantelle Rossette]

The slender egret shivered, a faint murmur escaping her beak as that unholy tongue caressed her, and she couldn’t help but wonder what profane things it could be capable of. Lust, rich and dark as wine seeped into the air.

The promises of Changelings were given freely and without coercion, they each were too familiar with the Wyrd, prowling about their windows and doors, exacting its pound of flesh, to do any differently. It taught them to be careful with their words, the Wyrd was always listening. Chantelle placed her hand on the massive beast’s shoulder, she didn’t have the strength to pull him closer, but she was certain he would come all the same. Her long beak whispered in his ear, “I ca’ promise dat, one evenin, lus’ for blood will be de furtheres’ ting from your min’.”

[Marcus Kendall]

Marcus worked the magic of their kind, warping the pledge into a spell that would take hold - she could feel as much, the words taking shape of chains in the back of her head. "Mhmhm..." he growled, his tail reaching around to brush over her ankles, even as he leaned closer, gently placing her snout on the top of her head. His jaws were wider than her skull. "I'll look forward to that."




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Will spend 1 Glamour to bind Chantelle to her pledge. On basic level.

[Chantelle Rossette]

She let him seal her words, as he had done earlier, a gesture of trust as much as it was a pledge of intention, to show that she meant no fickle games. Besides, she’d only promised an evening, and she hadn’t specified how it would be accomplished, even if they both knew exactly what they wanted that how to be. She nestled into his throat, the crown of her head under the hinge of his jaw, she fit almost perfectly there. For a moment, pale blue relief, the colour of the sky early on a cold morning, and scented like rosemary, washed around her.

[Marcus Kendall]

His fur smelled like ancient woods, of the darkest hour of the night. A promise of violent death mixed in with his scent, for the beast there had been little else. His emotions were very different. There were the usual rich notes of lust and desire, mixed with the champagne and saffron of curiosity. There were also heavy hints of confusion, heavy with scent of Labrador tea.

Chantelle could feel large paws wrapping around her small frame, pulling her closer even as the beast whimpered, his need all to evident.