FIc: Through these deep silent woods, my heart a-tumbling - True Blood
Title: Through these deep silent woods, my heart a-tumbling
Author: hyena_gal
Fandom: True Blood
Summary: Sometimes it doesn't even matter that you're running.
Pairing: Maryann/Daphne
Rating: R.
Warnings: Blood, non-con, mind control.
Word Count: 1,448
A/N: Set pre-season 2.
*
Daphne knows the moon is out.
Knows it, even though she can't actually see it at the moment. She's running for her life, after all, fighting to keep the pathetic vestige of what she has left of it in any case, the blackened sky looming above her like a hungry maw attempting to swallow her whole.
It's much, much too *dark* here; the branches above tightly weaved into the most thickeningly choking net she's ever tried escaping beneath, no *hint* of light, and the only thing filling her world is the sound of her heart trip-hammering inside her own head, loud like aggressive thunderclaps, the single thought of *run run run* that permeates every single inch of her.
Skin and soul, cartilage and cells.
That, and the hot, wet, heavy, continous slide of blood down her back, leaving a red trail of offering on the forest ground which her feet are flying over. Hunted -- and breath forced in and out so fast it's becoming a serrated pain in her esophagus to focus on as Daphne pushes her body to its limits in an attempt to elude.
She's going to die in some fucking *forest* just north of Alexandria, just because she had to -- happened to *see* and -- fuck -- she didn't mean to.
Was moving in her preferred animal shape. Quick, lithe form of a deer darting through the trees and then she'd seen... *it*.
Long curled horns, hunched over the remains of its kill, pitifully thin racoon, turned inside out. The creature scenting her on the air with a rough grunt before following Daphne in a chase which she's gradually losing now.
A second of not being fast enough and she was rewarded with claws raking down along her spine, shredding fur and flesh in a flash of pain, making her stumble, momentum lost, shifting into her Daphne-form as a result, simply one out of numerous hides, running with the legs of a young frightened woman.
Knows this is just postponing the inevitable -- outcome already laid out in front of her and, god, everything inside her is *burning*. Muscles, lungs, the destroyed tissue on her back, the wound... which pulses in time with her frantic heartbeats. Can feel how her spit is getting too thick within her panting mouth. Frothy. Only choking her in this unnecessarily long-drawn-out manner when the alternative is that she could simply surrender.
Daphne finally falls, then; naked and trembling so badly she's certain her teeth are cutting open the inside of her mouth from the way she can't seem to force her jaws closed. The grass, like nails against her bare limbs.
Death moving up behind her, heavy chuffing breath in the quiet night, claws yet again on her, grabbing at her elbows and it means she's been *caught* --
And it's when that exact thought is formed that Daphne feels her insides turn in protest. Animal instinct to *flee, run, fight* battering inside her skull, even as her upper body is pulled partially up and away from the ground, backwards, until she can feel another body there, not letting her go, another head too close next to her own.
It's a --
It's a *woman's* low amused voice which whispers in her ear now. "Oh, you poor thing. Here, let me --"
The whimper that sounds then...
Doesn't even realise that she's the one who makes it before the presence presses firmly against her back, unmistakable shape and weight of breasts there, slender (human) arms folding around her and the shaking can only come from Daphne, because she's trying to move, trying to quell the stutter of a pulse in her own throat completely unsuccessfully.
Held there and the notion of survival like a helpless *rattle* inside.
The female hums and, even though she can't see it, Daphne knows she's smiling. Senses it shape itself next to her ear. "It hurts, doesn't it? You know, I could take it all away if you wanted me to. Don't you want that? Hm?"
So casually asked, like it is a trivial matter, not worth fretting about. All the while undoubtedly simply *letting* the blood smear in a thick red stain down the front of her chest. Feels how it slightly sticks where they are touching.
Something... changes, then. Like -- the surroundings are pushed slightly out of focus, a tilt in the very fabric of the world.
And then there's the slither of something noteably foreign inside Daphne's head; sickeningly black, as though it has small teeth in a small mouth constantly chattering, sound of it growing louder and louder and the resulting wave of pulsing strangeness shoving its way through her --
Kicks it all into gear.
She's shifting, so fast, it's like a current of water through her; jabs of electricity, a distinct humming in her bones. Like a red-hot needle stabbed repeatedly underneath all of her nails at the same time, insistent and overpowering. Feels her entire self bulge and twist, gliding in and out of various known animal bodies that are purely on a sense memory level at this point, from predator to prey, small pointed horns to long snout, canines rounded into blunt ones.
Too much, too fast, all at once -- it feels like her very skin can't bear the metamorphosis anymore.
"Don't you want me to make you feel better?"
Oddly gentle tone now, but with a touch of something decidedly malignant beneath. Life threatening.
Everything still screeching inside Daphne when one of the arms moves, flat palm sliding down her naked stomach and *touches* --
Pushes up *into* her, inside her, and it's the -- *force* inside her head commanding her to get wet, traveling down her spine and making tingles start, and oh no, *no*.
It's -- the entire forest fucking its way inside her; the rustling leaves and the crawling insects, the rough ebony grass she's being pressed down against, and all of it, all of it --
Ripping her apart. Splitting her open and forcing its way through her like a howling storm, and something massive and obscuring -- throbbing, snaring magick gripping at her -- *settles* firmly inside her. Close to her heart, shreds a little of the soul off, and starts whispering in her head loud and clear now: mistress mistress mistress...
( murmurs of an ancient god that moves in the earth, in the *wind* --)
Fingers that keep *reaching* inside her. The orgasm which it results in is a vicious punishing burn rising from Daphne's sex up to her head, felt beneath the ceaseless humming having moved to be within her veins now. Just under the skin, the fragile layer of cells.
( -- that the purest ecstasy of all was forgotten long ago and *that* was the biggest sin man had ever committed --)
The hand pulls away from her, leaving her slumped and aching in a way that is just as unfamilar to her as the... fundamental change she's undergone.
(*Release*)
After a few minutes, Daphne finally draws in mouthfuls of hungry breaths, because there's no need to fight anymore, fear anymore, she's alive, *still*, and the pain is lessening in lenient degrees. There's wetness smeared down the insides of her thighs, can feel it as distinctly as the steady heartbeats continuing in her breast when she turns her head, rests her cheek against the dirty ground.
Blinks against the tears, looks up and sees her mistress for the first time, hunching over her. Black hair like the wing of a raven, torn green dress showing pale smudged skin here and there and a smile curving her lips which would seemingly befit the very Devil at the Crucifixion.
*Beautiful.*
The woman with the ember-like dark eyes makes a sort of pleased noise in the back of her throat before brushing a hand over Daphne's face gently. It leaves streaks of her shed blood on the cheek as she cups it. The copper smell makes her stomach clench up, hard.
Something like impatience and mild confusion jabs at the front of her mind.
"Such a pretty girl. Won't you come with me?" she coos down at Daphne, fingers dancing along her cheek and jaw, painting crimson patterns. For some reason they don't seem random at all. "I could use an... assistance."
The sky and moon are still hid behind the twisted branches above and there is only the slick white of teeth bared in a smile, the glint in those eyes here in the forest, filling everything up.
Her answer comes out a croak.
"Yes."
Because she can't recall there ever being a time when she didn't wish to follow this woman of the woods. Oh *yes*.
Daphne is sure of it.
end.
Author: hyena_gal
Fandom: True Blood
Summary: Sometimes it doesn't even matter that you're running.
Pairing: Maryann/Daphne
Rating: R.
Warnings: Blood, non-con, mind control.
Word Count: 1,448
A/N: Set pre-season 2.
*
Daphne knows the moon is out.
Knows it, even though she can't actually see it at the moment. She's running for her life, after all, fighting to keep the pathetic vestige of what she has left of it in any case, the blackened sky looming above her like a hungry maw attempting to swallow her whole.
It's much, much too *dark* here; the branches above tightly weaved into the most thickeningly choking net she's ever tried escaping beneath, no *hint* of light, and the only thing filling her world is the sound of her heart trip-hammering inside her own head, loud like aggressive thunderclaps, the single thought of *run run run* that permeates every single inch of her.
Skin and soul, cartilage and cells.
That, and the hot, wet, heavy, continous slide of blood down her back, leaving a red trail of offering on the forest ground which her feet are flying over. Hunted -- and breath forced in and out so fast it's becoming a serrated pain in her esophagus to focus on as Daphne pushes her body to its limits in an attempt to elude.
She's going to die in some fucking *forest* just north of Alexandria, just because she had to -- happened to *see* and -- fuck -- she didn't mean to.
Was moving in her preferred animal shape. Quick, lithe form of a deer darting through the trees and then she'd seen... *it*.
Long curled horns, hunched over the remains of its kill, pitifully thin racoon, turned inside out. The creature scenting her on the air with a rough grunt before following Daphne in a chase which she's gradually losing now.
A second of not being fast enough and she was rewarded with claws raking down along her spine, shredding fur and flesh in a flash of pain, making her stumble, momentum lost, shifting into her Daphne-form as a result, simply one out of numerous hides, running with the legs of a young frightened woman.
Knows this is just postponing the inevitable -- outcome already laid out in front of her and, god, everything inside her is *burning*. Muscles, lungs, the destroyed tissue on her back, the wound... which pulses in time with her frantic heartbeats. Can feel how her spit is getting too thick within her panting mouth. Frothy. Only choking her in this unnecessarily long-drawn-out manner when the alternative is that she could simply surrender.
Daphne finally falls, then; naked and trembling so badly she's certain her teeth are cutting open the inside of her mouth from the way she can't seem to force her jaws closed. The grass, like nails against her bare limbs.
Death moving up behind her, heavy chuffing breath in the quiet night, claws yet again on her, grabbing at her elbows and it means she's been *caught* --
And it's when that exact thought is formed that Daphne feels her insides turn in protest. Animal instinct to *flee, run, fight* battering inside her skull, even as her upper body is pulled partially up and away from the ground, backwards, until she can feel another body there, not letting her go, another head too close next to her own.
It's a --
It's a *woman's* low amused voice which whispers in her ear now. "Oh, you poor thing. Here, let me --"
The whimper that sounds then...
Doesn't even realise that she's the one who makes it before the presence presses firmly against her back, unmistakable shape and weight of breasts there, slender (human) arms folding around her and the shaking can only come from Daphne, because she's trying to move, trying to quell the stutter of a pulse in her own throat completely unsuccessfully.
Held there and the notion of survival like a helpless *rattle* inside.
The female hums and, even though she can't see it, Daphne knows she's smiling. Senses it shape itself next to her ear. "It hurts, doesn't it? You know, I could take it all away if you wanted me to. Don't you want that? Hm?"
So casually asked, like it is a trivial matter, not worth fretting about. All the while undoubtedly simply *letting* the blood smear in a thick red stain down the front of her chest. Feels how it slightly sticks where they are touching.
Something... changes, then. Like -- the surroundings are pushed slightly out of focus, a tilt in the very fabric of the world.
And then there's the slither of something noteably foreign inside Daphne's head; sickeningly black, as though it has small teeth in a small mouth constantly chattering, sound of it growing louder and louder and the resulting wave of pulsing strangeness shoving its way through her --
Kicks it all into gear.
She's shifting, so fast, it's like a current of water through her; jabs of electricity, a distinct humming in her bones. Like a red-hot needle stabbed repeatedly underneath all of her nails at the same time, insistent and overpowering. Feels her entire self bulge and twist, gliding in and out of various known animal bodies that are purely on a sense memory level at this point, from predator to prey, small pointed horns to long snout, canines rounded into blunt ones.
Too much, too fast, all at once -- it feels like her very skin can't bear the metamorphosis anymore.
"Don't you want me to make you feel better?"
Oddly gentle tone now, but with a touch of something decidedly malignant beneath. Life threatening.
Everything still screeching inside Daphne when one of the arms moves, flat palm sliding down her naked stomach and *touches* --
Pushes up *into* her, inside her, and it's the -- *force* inside her head commanding her to get wet, traveling down her spine and making tingles start, and oh no, *no*.
It's -- the entire forest fucking its way inside her; the rustling leaves and the crawling insects, the rough ebony grass she's being pressed down against, and all of it, all of it --
Ripping her apart. Splitting her open and forcing its way through her like a howling storm, and something massive and obscuring -- throbbing, snaring magick gripping at her -- *settles* firmly inside her. Close to her heart, shreds a little of the soul off, and starts whispering in her head loud and clear now: mistress mistress mistress...
( murmurs of an ancient god that moves in the earth, in the *wind* --)
Fingers that keep *reaching* inside her. The orgasm which it results in is a vicious punishing burn rising from Daphne's sex up to her head, felt beneath the ceaseless humming having moved to be within her veins now. Just under the skin, the fragile layer of cells.
( -- that the purest ecstasy of all was forgotten long ago and *that* was the biggest sin man had ever committed --)
The hand pulls away from her, leaving her slumped and aching in a way that is just as unfamilar to her as the... fundamental change she's undergone.
(*Release*)
After a few minutes, Daphne finally draws in mouthfuls of hungry breaths, because there's no need to fight anymore, fear anymore, she's alive, *still*, and the pain is lessening in lenient degrees. There's wetness smeared down the insides of her thighs, can feel it as distinctly as the steady heartbeats continuing in her breast when she turns her head, rests her cheek against the dirty ground.
Blinks against the tears, looks up and sees her mistress for the first time, hunching over her. Black hair like the wing of a raven, torn green dress showing pale smudged skin here and there and a smile curving her lips which would seemingly befit the very Devil at the Crucifixion.
*Beautiful.*
The woman with the ember-like dark eyes makes a sort of pleased noise in the back of her throat before brushing a hand over Daphne's face gently. It leaves streaks of her shed blood on the cheek as she cups it. The copper smell makes her stomach clench up, hard.
Something like impatience and mild confusion jabs at the front of her mind.
"Such a pretty girl. Won't you come with me?" she coos down at Daphne, fingers dancing along her cheek and jaw, painting crimson patterns. For some reason they don't seem random at all. "I could use an... assistance."
The sky and moon are still hid behind the twisted branches above and there is only the slick white of teeth bared in a smile, the glint in those eyes here in the forest, filling everything up.
Her answer comes out a croak.
"Yes."
Because she can't recall there ever being a time when she didn't wish to follow this woman of the woods. Oh *yes*.
Daphne is sure of it.
end.