Icy Mystery

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Notes: Words in [] is conversation, but it's the translation of a conversation/language that has no spoken words, no telepathic words, nothing. It's a language or 'passing of meaning' by actions, body language, and scent.

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Laugher. Soft and sensuous as it slid through the dark room, though it mocked the two closely entwined forms. Ice and mystery, blood and cold ... Dynast blinked away the bizarre thoughts that flitted across his mind at the phrasing. Fool trickster and his pretty words.

"More than merely pretty, I would hope."

"You eavesdrop far more than is healthy."

The languid form of the priest snickered and wrapped a pale arm around his even paler companion, "Oh no, Sherra eavesdrops far more than is healthy ... I simply ... listen in ... "

[Trickster Lord, indeed ... have you taken the Bitch to your bed as well?]

Xellos didn't bother to dignify that with a response as he stretched and rose, cold eyes glittering like daggers. Somehow, the small minded accusations irritated him far more than he would admit to his 'dear' brother. Oh how the mighty fall to petty in-bickering over servants ...

[In-bickering?!]

[Oh, do be silent, Northern Lord, I know very well that Sherra is more than your General. Much as the Bauble was Garv's ... ]

He had not expected the slap. Nor did he expect the blow that drove him to the bed beneath the other Lord's weight, pinned by the icy daggers of Dynast's True Form and by surprising hot lips that crushed his own.

[Do not start with me,] "Xellos Metallium." There was no word for this name that the Bitch had chosen in the True Speech, just as there was no word for 'Beastmaster', and both Dynast and Xellos knew that far too well ...

[I believe you are starting something with me, brother.]

[Phibrizio can not have you all to himself ... ]

[Summoning death? Never wise ... but you never were wise, were you?]

The kiss deepened as Dynast drove his talons deeper into the writhing Trickster. [Has the hunt proven so unsatisfying?]

[The hunt is never unsatisfying.]

[Liar as well as player of words.] A viscous stab of raging flame from the Trickster's glowing tail drove the colder Mazoku back as Xellos rose up on his bloodied elbows.

[Now who's the Bitch?]

"Don't call me that!!"

[Feeling the bite? The loss of pride in once true hunt?]

Dynast smiled, [And you hunt true?] The smile deepened as he pressed the other Lord to the bed again, hooking his talons into bloody, mystery scented fur, [You who dance in lies and shadows, wrapped up and around a mortal's finger? A puppet to a Mazoku's strings.]

Teeth pulled back into a snarl.

[A puppet. Pretty, pretty puppet ... no more glory, no more pride. Obsessive ... Phibrizio's little slut ... not even a Lord anymore]

[Then why are you bedding a slut?] the pale face asked with a grin that was almost a death mask.

[Because, dear Trickster, I know just how dangerous you really are ... ]

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