Lead Me Into Temptation, and Deliver Me To Evil

[Anonymous]

A right ruddy night some might call it.

Thundering clouds above, pouring forth a bounty of torrential rain. Covering the land with such darkness, forcing some to stay inside for fear that mother nature's wrath might curse them too. Occasionally the sky above would light up as a streak of both blue and white would race across the darkness. The wind pushed through, howling madly as it served to make the already dismal night worse. It was a cutting chill, one you could feel in your core, one that could knock you down if you were small enough. The air was already frigid, such a cold draft coming from the mountains nearby, if one was able to find a fire, they would find the biting chill a little less intense.

Zantaric was always that intense location however, the town that law forgot. A perfect place to indulge in the darkness of man's heart, to squeeze every bit of hatred you had out into the open. This was a place where human life wasn't as valuable, where it was cheapened and even put down as a commodity. No one was here to care for you, and if you weren't expressly careful, you could wind up as a corpse in a ditch with no one to care how you got there.

It was perfect.

With the now harsh weather, most people found themselves inside. It was appropriate, being out in the darkness, with the rain obstructing your sight, it would be very easy to find yourself with a new hole in your body, and all your coins missing. Unless of course...the rain wasn't a problem, nor was a person sneaking up on you with a sharp instrument. Dressed in a thick leather coat, the four buttons at the front done up, a not so unusual figure made his way through the streets. Sure, in a city he might be unusual, in a church he was definitely unusual, but in a place like Zantaric...he almost seemed ordinary. It was as if he fit in here better than some of the locals. While he was a stranger to the lands themselves, he wasn't a stranger to this sort of place. It was a haven, and it always welcomed him.

The man wore a wide brimmed fedora, it was in rather excellent condition, the brown material it had been made out of had yet to be weather worn or aged by sun. The brim of course was pulled down low in front of his face, to stop too much water from getting in. Only a man with a hat would walk face first into a storm of this calibre. Hands in his pocket, the man walked as if lost in thought. It might have been his clothes, his thick heavy pants, his nice brown leather coat, but he seemed to be a well built sort of man. Solid, stout, that's what people called him. As of right now, he was looking for any port to call his own in this storm. The likelihood of an empty shack that he could force his way into was slim, so he would have to opt for an inn.

A predictably bad moniker belonged to this inn, the Cloak and Dagger, which screamed trouble for less savoury folk. This was more of a welcome for him, a 'come on in, take a load off, punch a few people' if you want. Oh yes, a very good welcome. Once under the cover of the overhang, the man survived the world through the rain for a moment. Muddy streets, wooden houses, and a few people hiding in the darkness to try and surprise less intimidating looking folks. Perhaps they were waiting for friends though, or for targets. He would not make himself one of those targets, at least...not at this time. Perhaps later, when all his rage was built up to the brim, and he had to let some steam off by crippling a few people, he would walk these rain soaked streets again.

For now, he just wanted to get angry at the fact that all the alcohol in the world could not cure him.

He placed a hand upon the door, one covered in a fingerless glove, and pulled it open. The heat from inside was nice, it was strong, it got in your face and told you that it was there to stay. A good heat. He strode in as if he owned the place, his posture was solid, his strong jaw set in place, and his eye slightly glaring. He looked like a man out of a cliché, with a huge scar down the left side of his face, his eye missing, a slightly bent nose from being broken and reset too many times, and a classic unshaven stubbly face. Oh yes, it was like this place was made just for him. People appeared to pay no heed to him, though he could feel the eyes of some of the patrons upon him. Not directly of course, some were using their glasses, or their knives to get a good look at him. Some opted for nearby windows...but it was a code, a creed, never let the new guy go unnoticed. After all, he could be someone they knew, he could be an enemy that they feared, or an acquaintance that owed them money.

Oh he'd fit right in.

Some of these people he doubted actually had a room at this Inn. They looked like they belonged here too...they looked as if they were just here to escape the storm and spend their time in the safe heat of the Inn. As good a plan as any though. Heavy boots thudded against the wooden floor as he walked to the bar counter. First...a drink or two, then perhaps a room key. "If you've got it, strong ale." His voice was deep, it was dark, it was a rumble like the thunder above, and a growl like the wolves in the forest. The bartender slid a handled stein in front of him, the deep amber liquid frothing at the top. "Got any good whores?" A silver piece was put down and slid toward the tender. "Not here, not during this storm." The tender replied carefully. There were some, but this man...he looked like a man who would cripple the ones that were here. His general look, his disposition around him...he looked like a man who would unleash his wrath during such intimate times.

The tender knew better than to offer this man a woman, whose life would surely be in jeopardy.

"Pity. Fix a room up then, I'll wait the storm out tonight." This time, a gold coin was slid across the rough wooden bar counter. In return, a key was slid his way, which got deposited into his pocket. The man never lifted his head to show his face. People were put off by his eye. Not by his lack of eye of course...but the one that remained. No pupil...no iris...just a white background with a black noose. It moved like a pupil, if he wanted to look to his left, the noose would move to the left. To the right, the noose would move that way. They were then further put off if he wanted to look behind him, where the eye just rolled around and disappeared. Oh yes...that always put a lot of people off.

And he didn't much feel like making small talk with a bartender about it.

Stein in hand, he began to drink, and quickly too. His eyes closed as he tilted his head back to completely imbibe the drink. He placed it down upon the counter. "Another. Keep them coming." Not even a slur, not even a weariness to his voice, an iron constitution for a steel man. His drink was replaced, and again, it was gone rather quickly. After the fifth though, the man turned his back and began to observe the common room around him. In younger days...these people would all die before him. He would have killed them all for the sake of justice, or in the very least, he would have used such violence to turn them onto the right path. Justice and Order through fear, through tactics used in times of war and desperation, used against the common man for no better reason than because a Goddess said so. Sickening, but such was life.

He'd found his home though for the time being. The man who lost his purpose and his home, the man who could no longer serve so blindly.

Nexus Savaros.

[Anonymous]

Calysta had spent much of the stormy evening hopping from tavern to tavern, searching. For what, was always the same. Entertainment. Something that struck her muse, that made her body and mind and her dark little soul sing with enthusiasm and vision. Though she much preferred to keep her clothing at a minimum, she wore a long, formidable heavy-wool cloak, lined with body-warmed velvet within and dyed a deep shade of red. It went along nicely with what she wore beneath; crimson thigh-high boots with slight feathered accents at the ankles and knees, held up by thick black belts around the highest part of her leg. A matching red, stylized thong held by thin straps left little to the imagination, along with a strapless bikini top and tight gloves that reached up to her shoulder, with the same feather-like embellishments at the wrist.

The bikini bottom allowed for her long, red tail to move comfortably beneath the cloaks, but it stayed still nonetheless, the tip only twitching slightly every now and again, peeking out from beneath. It wasn't as if she were trying to hide it, but if she ever felt it would help, it was more than easy to make it 'go away' with a quick and simple illusion. The same way she currently made the small red wings look like nothing more than normal human ears... Though she hardly felt threatened in a place like this, having drunkards pull on them was never pleasant and only ever served to make her murderous. She was looking for a fuck not a fight.

Though, that wasn't to say she was entirely opposed to the idea of a good brawl. So long as it was primarily the brawling of others, and she was allowed to observe in good amusement. In a place like Zantaric, it wasn't hard to step on a few toes, and with a body like hers it was equally as simple to bow out looking all the innocent party. Ah, well, no, there was most clearly nothing innocent about her. Illusions could help, but her eyes would betray her otherwise.  

She'd found herself a dingy table in a smoky corner near the fire place where a few cut-throats were glaring daggers at one another over their poker hands, a small pile of fortunes at the center of the table in front of her. Somehow there had come an unspoken belief that she would be given along with these largely worthless trinkets to the winner for the night. What an insult. It'd started with her entering and finding herself 'at a loss' about this weather and giving small glimpses of herself as she aired out her sopping cloak. Some tried -although their efforts were quite dismal- to come across as gentlemen. A laughing matter, which even the attempt of which to each actor was clearly a joke. She did so enjoy it when she could get others to play with her though. Pretend to be polite, even though you haven't even the smarts to know the definition of the word, let alone a crooked eye that probably couldn't have read it if, indeed, you could read. It was amusing though, the games men would play for a womans body.

Showing her to the chair nearest the fire place, receiving glares from the regular whores - and she could always spot them, for they were usually the first with their eyes on her, fearful, bitter, angry glares - she settled herself in cozily amongst the men, acting far too lost for them not to resist. Sure she was clearly no innocent, but as far as they knew, she was a stranger to Zantaric. Oh but who could be stranger to Zantaric? It'd been several dozen years since she'd been here, she'd changed her wardrobe a touch, so it was unlikely if anyone would recognize her, if they'd even survived this city. These men didn't know her though, but she sure as hell knew them. Their sort. Smiling and bumbling with faux innocence so thick it reeked of sarcasm, helpful, rough and dangerous, but they knew women usually liked that. Really, she wondered what amusement she could possibly derive from them that she hadn't already. Sighing, she rested her face in her palm, pouting in boredom. Some of the men noticed this and started yacking at her, but she was only feinting interest, scarcely listening as they tried to leap-frog over to each other into her attentions, their tones slowly rising, and she began to stare at the dully twinkling tiny gems and scant coins piled in front of her. She began to think that she might punish them for their insolence and nerve. She began to think if something of interest did not come, if a man worth her time didn't approach, she'd change her intentions from a fuck to a fight, after all.

Of course, that had been about the time the man looking like a fight himself had entered. She took note as the others took him in carefully, and watched him herself as he moved to the bar. Her fingers drummed on the table, a tell-tale sign of her interest, even if no one else ever took note of it. Her tail twitched, sweeping the dirty ground beneath it. He looked like an absolute menace. A curiosity. Ah, and she was a cat that loved to find a thing that tickled its curiosities. Her muse hummed softly behind her ear, a pleasant tickle that sent a small reverberation of electricity down her spine and would slowly, she knew, make her body buzz as the muse lifted its voice. Slowly, the hum would become a tune, the tune would become lyrics, and the lyrics a grand symphony, an elaborate drama, an unfolding epic. It was gorgeous, it was magnificent, every time. It never failed her. Yes, if there was anything she delighted in this world, it was assuredly this.

She thought she might walk up to him, trail her index and middle fingers up the long journey of his spine. Ah, but he seemed the sort who might sense such an approach, think it a danger, and break her wrist. A repercussion she certainly would not fancy. Did a man like that apologize for such a misjudgment? It was clear he wasn't the same as the rest of these, but he was just as wild and dangerous as any of them... No, that was entirely wrong, and she almost shamed herself with the idea, shamed him. He was far more dangerous than these, and that excited her further. The muse whispered.

Unable to suppress the small giggle, the men around her took slow note of her shifting interest, and she took note of theirs. Oh? Would they attempt to stop her? Would they dare to confront a man like that? She didn't care either way, moving slowly and deliberately as she rested her palms against the table and lifted herself up from her chair.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to stay to see how this ends, boys," she excused herself, though she hoped she would. She hoped it ended in their skulls cracking. Of course, she didn't doubt that if things didn't go that way, she couldn't give them all a considerable nudge in the right direction. One way or another. A few spoke up, but others were still regarding the new stranger carefully. Did they know each other? Both were strangers, there was that possibility, right? Calysta ignored them, making her way through the crowd and unfastening the more concealing clasps of her cloak, keeping the one at her neck tied to keep it over her shoulders, but leaving much of the rest of her attire revealed, even as she sat down at the bar with the cape falling down behind her. Smiling shrewdly to the tender, she drummed her fingernails along the surface of the bar as she spoke.

"Get me whatever he's having," she said with a nod to the man she'd purposely sat so close to, despite the fact that most would have undoubtedly gone out of their way to keep their distance. From between where her fingers had moved, there was a sparkle of silver, as if my magic the coin appearing. The tender clearly did a double take, lifting the coin in his hand and looking at it a little more carefully than he might have usually, but apparently finding it in good quality and continuing to serve her the drink. She smirked a little. It was always so easy with these trivial things. The barkeep had coins passed to him day in, day out, the shine of a coin was known to his eye, the feel familiar to his hand, a simple thing to take advantage of.

Turning in her seat so she faced the large, imposing man presently, she folded one leg over the other with mug in one hand, her face cradled in the other, elbow propped on the bar. He looked different from most men she approached, but then again, he was clearly different from most men irregardless of that small point. There was one thing, though, that all men with a look like his in a crummy little bar such as this shared though, and that was greed. Lust. Gluttony. All sin was the same, after all. Indulgence. Devour, rape, take. He looked like a man who'd done his fair share of stealing. Stealing life, in the very least. In her long years she had an eye for that... Oh, but that was a simple excuse. It was more like... recognizing someone who shared something in common with oneself. Yes, but he and she were very much different, to be sure.

"How interesting," she pondered aloud, "To be forward, because all night I've been so indirect with these low-lives that I've become quite tired with such frivolities, I must admit I take pleasure in men. Their voracious lusts, their consuming vices. And I usually have an eye for the... 'good ones', too. But once in a while one comes along that takes me wholly by surprise." Taking a drink, she sat back. Most whores might have leaned in, drink entirely disregarded. Trailed a hand up the inside of his thigh, let him know just precisely what they were intending. And the thought had, indeed, crossed her mind. Instead, though she relaxed. She loved to indulge herself in every possible way. Though he may have looked different from most of her targets, there was one thing he most assuredly held in common with her favored 'type'. He looked strong. Powerful. She admitted softly, "I can't help but be consumed by it. The... curiosity."

[Anonymous]

He honestly didn't expect it.

The eyes upon him not to be one of a thug, a thief, a cretin or a murderer. Well. Murderer had probably yet to be seen, because in this town, even a child could turn out to be a murderer. That was the thing about Zantaric, you could trust that most people had killed before, or had hired someone to kill. It wasn't a particularly bad thing of course, but it did make people a little more wary of each other. You could never tell if the child wandering the streets was trying to rob you, or stick a knife between your ribs. He wasn't particularly fond of anyone putting a knife through them, despite the fact that it felt good. Just because it was pleasurable, didn't mean that he still couldn't die from it.

But who did look upon him now?

It was hard to tell just what she might be. Well, in terms of her personality, in terms of her history. She was a demon. A particularly sultry one at that. Why his eye was drawn to her, he could easily understand. It must have been some innate ability, some light intoxication, perhaps airborne, or even magical in nature. She wanted eyes to be upon her, she wanted to stick out, and in her current get up, she did. Nexus was always one to appreciate the female form, and she had more female form than most women had. There was the matter of the tail...the wings...the little...ear...wings? His mind couldn't be fuddled with cheap tricks, she could use whatever demonic magic she wished upon the lesser folk, but he wouldn't be drawn quite so easily into her web.

Yes, he'd like to take her back to a nice room and perhaps end up destroying every bit of furniture in there with her, make her scream so loud the building cleared out, make people wonder if he was killing her. He wouldn't of course...kill her that is. That was just silly. That was just...bad practice after all. He was an artist, a professional, he knew his kinks and had indulged them frequently, and while ideas of torture and sexual promiscuity danced around in his brain, he could only wonder what the end result would be. Demons were a tricky sort, and would she want to partake in his soul afterwards? Would that even be possible? He was always warned to be careful with demons...but they were so decadent, so perverted and so...sexual that he wouldn't often resist. She probably had a decent amount of stamina as well, so it would be quite a challenge to ensure that he didn't wear himself out and let his guard down.

There they both sat however. Him, disinterested on the outside, wholly interested on the inside. She on the other hand...well, she looked interested on the outside. She looked interesting on the outside. Ahem. Best not to get ahead of himself right now. She seemed to be in the middle of a poker game. Literally at that. She had no cards, but there seemed to be an intense need by all present at the table to win. He could only guess someone thought of her as an ante. Crude fuckers. She was a poker pot on her own, forget a simple ante.

He kept his head low, just to keep up appearances. No one had any clue that this man could see fine through the obstruction that was his hat. It made for spying so much for fun...and he didn't want her to see him staring at her. This was a game after all, this was a very delicate game. She had to come to him, she had to be interested in him, and he had to be careful not to tip his hand too early, or else he'd lose the pot entirely. That's when she left the table, and put her wares on display. Interesting tactic. Were men drawn easily here? A luscious body was of course, a very alluring thing, but this was a game he planned on winning.

Mainly, he just wanted to hear her beg.

When she sat down, he did not move his head to look at her. Didn't need to of course. He stared straight through his own skull to look at her. His drink came to his mouth, and he took a sip, pretending to be watching something else that was fascinating. He should have asked for the strongest stuff in the house, if only he had known that she would approach him and ask to have what he drank. She was obviously a tricky one, she was a strong one, she was a smart one, and it would no doubt take a bit to throw her off balance. Not that he wouldn't be willing to try of course. He couldn't hate her like he hated others, like he hated the mortal females of the world. She was a demon, in a world of her own.

Just like he was a Savaros, in a world of his own.

At closer inspection, he knew to be so much more careful about her. She had a power behind her like any other. It was demonic sure, but it was...strong. A strong woman. Usually a thought like that would send him into a rage, but...she was a demon. It was a different form of woman, it was a different kind of strong. One felt perhaps by a puppetmaster, by one who spent time manipulating soul after soul for her own particular desire. The kind who liked to wrap a person 'round her little finger and get them to do whatever she wished. No doubt she could make a much lesser man than he kill himself for her, just to please her.

A tantalizing thought though.

He said nothing at first, Nexus just kept drinking casually, though his gaze was firmly upon her. Would she know, he wondered? Could she feel the intensity of his gaze as it looked at her...through her...as it cut through her in sections? His eyes were a gift of the Gods, and a Curse of the Goddess. Sure, he only had one...but even then, he was almost completely sure that if he had no eyes, he'd still see. There had never been a need to actually find out though, just in case he was wrong. He knew that if he got his other eye back, it'd pop right back in and work as normal...but even without it, he found no change, no difference in perspective.

A curious thing.

"You sure that it is curiosity you feel, and not just the fire that burns between your legs, begging for relief?" Despite what one might think of the words, the tone was actually far from crass or sarcastic. It was almost...suggestive in a way, as if he could perhaps provide that relief. He wondered just how well the two of them would fare together though. He was a man who liked his own pleasure, and his partner was usually left...out of that. She looked like she was in it for her own pleasure too. How would that work out, two people, only in it for their own pleasure, forsaking the pleasure of their partner? He hoped it worked out all night long of course.

"The air about you says that you are from from the world you live in. I'm surprised to find a demon in such a shit hole of a location." He let out a short growling chuckle as he turned his head slightly, as if regarding her in some way. "Then again, that fire must keep you quite warm." Another drink, his head tilting back, his eyes closing, and it was finished. The stein was held in his hand, and he could only wonder what to do with it. A fight could be started with this stein. A fight could be surely ended by this stein. The question was...if he didn't fight now, would all his anger, would all his pent up energy be released by a long night with this woman. He weighed his options. Even with all the weapons that he could plainly see, and the ones that they thought hidden amongst their clothes, strapped to their bodies to hide, he could still beat all of the bastards in here.

It'd be a great way to relieve all stress...and there was no chance of losing his soul. However...there was no danger in that. There was no danger in a simple brawl, while exploring more intimate means with her surely would be fraught with danger. Choices.

"We can find ourselves in all sorts of trouble tonight...you and I. The only thing I wonder...is where they lead. I'm fond of my soul, poppet, and you look like the kind who just likes to lead them away from a man's body." He'd never had his stole taken outside of his realm before. He'd died outside his realm, which ended in him being rushed back to his own realm to find judgement.

[Anonymous]

Even when his eyes didn't seem like they were, she could feel them, somehow, on him. Oh no, there was nothing ordinary about this man. She'd sensed it when he'd entered, and she sensed it more now that she was so close to him. She wondered... just how much of that extraordinary nature she would get to feel tonight.

There were parts of her that exercised caution. Or at least, parts that tried. They'd always existed, warning her from times long passed, times that she'd somehow, inevitably, survived, even when those voices were right in their warnings. She would have hoped that after centuries of ignoring them they'd have just... gone away. Quieted until she didn't have to hear them anymore, but that wasn't the case at all. They were there to stay, whether she liked it or not, and really, she supposed it was a good thing. Even if she ignored them, they prepared her for all the possibilities.

In times long ago, times she hadn't possessed this body, she could remember the names and faces of men she'd seduced in worlds other than this. They were strange memories, faded, like a drug-induced dream on an alcohol binge. Blurred and messy, snippets and pieces cut up and re-arranged in messy order. After so many years, she'd pieced some of it together, but none of it really mattered to her. All it meant was that in a lifetime before this one, she'd been doing this very same thing, and though she'd apparently died and been reborn at some point, she could tell she'd been just as good at it then as she was now... and that she had the devils own luck when it came to surviving the wrath of those who survived her.

Would he become one of those men though? Like the so-called 'Dragon Lord' from her fragmented memories, with whom she'd had many children, with whom she'd made war for eons. She knew what her role in all of this was, but it didn't mean she'd roll over and accept it. No, she'd twist and bend it until it suited her. She'd wear it proud on her little finger. Distorted, ruined, fitting only her.

A man like him though had to be taking her in carefully though. Surely he'd dealt with creatures of her breed before. And he'd undoubtedly met a woman or two who'd seduced him only to leave a knife in him as they tried to get more than they were ever worth... But this darling... Oh, did he know that even his life couldn't pay for her? Her smirk sparkled with wicked delight. She didn't give services like the street whores and penny's-for-pleasures-hookers. She gave herself, all of her, and she expected just as much in return.

His question delighted her further, and she took another drink. "Curiosity always sparks passion in me, love," she replied, setting the mug down, half empty. Her voice was cool and silky, but smoldering beneath. She wanted to tell him how she intended to devour him. Oh, she wasn't into eating human meat, save perhaps on rare and very special occasions - and to be sure, they had to be tender and of a precise quality, which he very much was not. She imagined he'd be all too chewy and not very tasty at all in such a manner. Though, he looked delicious with the intentions she did hold for him. She had to keep her cards low, though, not to mention... there was no telling how a seasoned warrior might respond to such advances.

Arching an eyebrow at his next remark though, she glanced over to the fireplace and the poker-players, a few of whom were glancing at her from the corners of their eyes. She smirked as she leaned against her bar-propped arm a little more, tail swishing behind her.

"After so long, you look harder and harder to find proper entertainment. Sometimes making it for yourself is just too tiresome and troubling. Sometimes its fun to get wrapped up in someone else's troubles." There was an all-too-suggestive tone in her voice in her last statement, though she meant it both literally and provocatively. Taking up the mug again, she slammed down the last of its contents, moving her head back so that her throat was bared, giving its small trembles as it swallowed. Setting the empty glass down, the tip of her tongue ran over her lips before she looked back at him.

"As for the matter of souls. I find some interest in them, but its a pain to bother with them overly much. But the man who keeps me enthralled... The man whose soul in his own grasp can enrapture me... How could I ever bind it? Steal it? As long as its unfettered, it can continue to keep me interested... Curious... passionate."

It was something of a challenge, almost. Not just to him, but any man.

[Anonymous]

Nexus had been with many a strange women...and even men before. Many of different cultures, of power, of size and shape, of title and distinction. The woman before him was a tad different however. She had some air about her, some warning and caution to her. He was old...he had no idea his soul was actually older than most lands he had visited. His body however, was young, and he knew much younger than she. However, was the years she carried with her hold experience and wisdom, or did they just weigh her down? There were days however that he felt that weight, but...there was always new energy that came to him.

His mind spoke warning to him, but he was never sure that he should listen. He was a man of power, a man of strength and passion. He threw caution to the wind and did as he pleased. There were two halves of his mind however. One of them was from his life, from all that he had known as he had grown up. He was a puppet controlled, and it spoke of justice and morality. It spoke of putting his boot down on the necks of all these dogs and making them repent, to call out to the universe for forgiveness for their wickedness.

The other half however wished to join in upon their exploits. Wished to run beside them and commit murder, rape, thievery, and other unwholesome activities. However, he only ran by himself, he only ran FOR himself. There was no matter but his own at this point.

The two of them fought with each other, wished to be the victor. Only one would be, and it would be the one that he hated the least. To join them...but...for his own gain, for his own pleasure, for his own evils then. How fun would that be? His own pleasure was before him though, his own gain was here, sitting with him, and she would be a fine indulgence. The only question was...what indulgence would it be? He was a deviant, a sadist, a twisted soul who took pleasure in the most decadent and wickedest ways.

What would the night bring for the two of them then? She was a woman who could be a tawdry whore, or a royal lady, and not she stood before him as perhaps a mix of both. He stood in no manner, he was not a man of any stature in this world, his title was murderer, thug, gangster, he was lowly in their eyes...yet he walked as a man who was a king. He walked a a man who held no equal to any, because he felt he had none. There might have been some yes...but in his mind, he was the one who crushed any beneath his feet, who tore down mountains before him.

When the two of themselves found together, what would she do after? He had found, time or two again, with many marks upon his body. He had found himself with arrows, daggers, swords and other implements piercing his flesh time and time again after a time with a woman. His choices in women were probably not the best, and he knew that tonight he might find himself again with some sharp instrument in his gut or back from her. Not an entirely bad thought of course! No, pain was not for him, it was pleasure that came from what people would believe painful. How he enjoyed it so as well.

"That's good to know." He muttered at her response, shaking his head. She was good, he would admit that, and he could hope that he held her curiosity. To die in bed with her though would be a great humiliation on his part. That had only happened once, and against a foe far greater than her. He should have realized the bitch had the tail of a scorpion and the gaze of a medusa. He was sure that his body was still somewhere on that planet, a large hole in his chest and turned to stone. He thought if he simply looked away from her while they partook in pleasure, he would leave alive. Instead his soul was carried away by the powers that be, his body left as a testament.

Hopefully he could avoid that tonight.

"And I find myself honoured then that you would think of me some...just entertainment." Even if it were for some passing fancy, for just a night, Nexus would ensure that the night would not be wasted. Not a single minute could be after all. The object of desire was this woman here, in this room, there was only one thing that the men, and even some women desired. It was her. And he would have her. If he could. Whether he was a shoe in, that had not been decided yet in his eyes. He would just...have to hope that he could keep his standing with her.

"Mmm, I have heard many soul takers talk like that before. Let's hope your tongue can hold truth better than them." He unconsciously reached to his arm, to where a scar rest, feeling his fingers upon it. A good reminder though, to let him know that she would have to be watched with one eye. Watched...oh so very carefully. He would have to ensure that she had no weapon on her...though, he had met a demon before who could impale a man with their tail.

"Call me Nexus. Nexus Savaros." He turned to look at her, his hand now raising the brim of his hat to show his face in full to her. To show the empty socket, the scar upon his face...and to show the eye he had left, burning a hole in her as it stared constantly into her. "You are a demonic beauty though, I can't say that it is every hundred years that I get to share my time with someone such as yourself." He did hope that she was a healthy sort...and a strong will. He took a deep breath as he focused on her carefully. She smelled of such age...of such beauty...of such...experience and such strength.

Later could not come soon enough.