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14 June 2011 @ 09:27 pm
A Branding~  
Behold Ye Olde AIM log, in which Victor is branded with iron and flame. It follows on from THIS thread, in which Victor begs the UnSeelie King to brand him with his own personal mark, so that he can always wear something which shows him as belonging to Arawn.



Arawn: *Arawn points to the shiny brand*

Victor: *beams; bares chest, and ass*

Arawn: Which would you prefer, my son?

Victor: Here. *pats chest* So people can see it. Y'already know my ass is yours....

Arawn: You intend to be bare-chested?

Victor: I can be. *arrogant* Don't think you'd get many complaints if I walked 'round without a shirt, would ya? *smug*

Arawn: More than a few, actually. But no matter. *puts the brand in the fire so it can heat up*

Victor: Oh....? *raises an eyebrow, curious... and sweats a little, eyeing the brand very very warily*

Arawn: It is not often that people roam this court freely and unclothed, my dear. *reassuring smile because he knows what Victor is looking at* If you have changed your mind...?

Victor: No. *shakes his head; if he backs out now, that's showing a weakness* An' I weren't gonna be naked! Just topless! *grins* You wouldn't complain...

Arawn: Not even remotely. *grins back; he wouldn't think less of Victor for backing down now, not really, but he's proud of the feral's insistence*

Victor: *smirks, and tries not to let it show that he's actually pretty fucking scared of having hot metal searing his flesh* Well, then... everyone else can just keep their goddamn mouths shut.

Arawn: I am not certain that others will see it that way, love. *amused expression, glancing at the brand; it's not quite ready yet, but soon* This is your final opportunity to change your mind, my pet. Are you certain this is what you want?

Victor: *he positively squirms with delight at being called 'love', and purrs; then he raises one of his Adamantium claws to his chest and touches at the skin, drawing a red line there which heals up almost instantly. Then he nods* Yeah. I want it.

Arawn: As you wish. Taste of my lips, and then kneel.

Victor: *leans forward, still purring softly, closing his eyes and pressing his lips against Arawn's own*

Arawn: *slides a hand through Victor's hair, his lips parting for his lover*

Victor: *moans softly, reaching out for his King, before pulling away again; his voice is heavy with lust as well as shaky with nerves* Do it...

Arawn: Kneel, my prince, and prepare yourself. Wounds caused by fire do not heal for our kind as they normally would, and being branded is painful, but through this, you shall forever bear my mark upon your flesh.

Victor: *again, he nods, swallowing nervously; and then he kneels before Arawn, his chest bare, bracing himself against the pain which is sure to come* I am ready.

Arawn: *he nods once, and draws a deep breath* By the power of the UnSeelie Court of Fae, by my own power, I mark you permanently, claim you as my own, with a symbol that only you are fit to bear. *And with that, he lifts the brand from the fire and presses it to Victor's chest, searing the flesh. His nose wrinkles against the stench of burning flesh, but otherwise he holds steady for several long seconds before he removes it. The mark is clean, and it would appear that he's done it before, but that's irrelevant; he's marveling at the perfection of his placement and flashing forward to what would surely be a beautiful and permanent reminder of who truly owns Victor's soul when it healed.*

Victor: *the feral whimpers as the hot metal burns into his flesh; he's felt pain like this before, but this time, he knows it won't heal. The muscles in his arms, neck and shoulders bulge from his efforts to keep from crying out in pain, and he hisses between clenched teeth, but he refuses to call out. Finally, it's done, and he falls back, whimpering* Arawn... th-thank you... *he looks like he's about to collapse*

Arawn: *The brand is quickly discarded in favor of kneeling beside Victor, one arm wrapping around his back to steady him.* Precious Victor, I am grateful and fortunate to have a Prince, a lover, a servant such as you. You are loyal as you are intelligent, and I am pleased and proud that you wish to so publicly display that loyalty. *and he kisses him again, tender and fleeting, before lifting the feral -with much effort and strain- and carrying him to his chambers; fortunately, it's not that far.*

Victor: *again Victor winces, the movement pulling at his flesh, making the mark blaze with pain; his skin is red-raw and charred, but he still doesn't regret his decision. He'd normally purr from Arawn's flattery but he's almost-delirious and barely even hears him, yelping slightly as the King lays him down upon the bed*

Arawn: *Arawn kisses Victor's forehead affectionately* This pain was your own desire, my prince; find joy in it as you are so gifted at doing.

Victor: *still whimpering, the feral curls up within the sheets and bites back another cry; he knows the pain is his own choice and he welcomes it, feeling he deserves it, knowing that it makes him worthy. It will pass in time, and when it does, he will be left with a scar which will make him proud unto the end of his days. Clawed fingers reach out to find Arawn's own and hold them within his grip - it reassures him just to know that his King is there, watching over him*