WHEN: After the fog rolled in, after Jericho's stone-predicament, and before Dinah's psychic scream
WHERE: The beach
WHO: November and Sato
NSFW WARNING: Gore, vore, kinky fucking.
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[08:35] Naoki Sato had not been terribly patient with November when the man spoke over the AetherNet. It took him a bare few minutes to melt into the shadows of his little hideaway in Seiiki, only to drop right on top of the lanky killer-god from the shadows of the ceiling in his bedroom. He hadn't bothered to get dressed, and only mostly cleaned himself off from a recent hunt. He probably smelled like blood.
But he was adamant about answering the questions about that dream. Sato disliked leaving things unknown or answered, disliked gaps of knowledge moreso in the wake of retrieving his missing memories. He didn't want to NOT know anything, so he didn't take no for an answer when he insisted on taking November to the shore to speak to some of the spirits that wandered around the waters.
The Jikininki's hand was circled around Nov's slender wrist, pulling and tugging as he trudged barefoot all the way over to the shoreline and across the sand.
[08:42] November Morsus' long white fingers gripped just as tightly, both from concern over the recent goings on, and just sheer need for connection, for skin to meet skin and what lay beneath to press ever closer in whatever way he could get. Really, it was a miracle he hadn't insisted on something ridiculous like carrying the smaller man there like a teddy bear.
"I'm afraid my memory is a bit, hazy... Really, I shouldn't have discounted it as a mere nightmare, but those are a rather common occurance for me, so I hadn't thought to consider it out of the ordinary..." His low voice burbled on as they headed out to the grey, forboding seashore, casting worried glances out at that endless mist.
[09:08] Naoki Sato stepped across the sand and paused when he passed from dry to wet and the water was lapping about his ankles. The fog was ominous, that was clear enough and he didn't need to actively TRY to see the many restless things that milled about in it and in the waters. Sato took a deep breath in, smelling seawater and the scent of death - stronger than it typically was coming from those waves.
"It involved people, the ocean, and pleading... begging for something to be killed," he said like he was reading off a list, enumerating the things he recalled from their brief discussion of the topic. "We don't need all the details. Just enough to ask questions."
He let go of November's hand and crouched to begin drawing in the sand. The ritual circle came first, the carved kanji for Life, Death, Sleep, Awake, and Talk carved in spaced out locations around it. Sato made a fist and opened it, letting his nails carve into his palm so the blood could well into it. He bled, willing more of the red liquid to flow from his veins until he could fill the carved lines with it, letting the tide come and bear the red liquid out to the waves.
<"You are already awake. Listen and come to me,"> he spoke in Japanese, pale dead eyes on the waves.
[09:15] November Morsus whimpered softly when Sato let go of his hand, curling around the smaller man like willow boughs, still yearning for even that tiny bit of contact. A shudder rolled down him as Sato recollected the dream, causing him to pull his rather slight haori closer around his shoulders, regretting that he hadn't brought anything warmer with him to fight the cold damp of the fog.
Bits of crab carapace crunched under his boot as he knelt by Sato in the sand, watching carefully as he filled the sand with rivulets of blood. This might not have been his field, but he could recognize a ritual when it was taking place. A soft sigh as he tried to keep the memories of that nightmare from his head, but they were returning all too clearly now. "Please, god, kill it," he murmured, echoing the words that had screamed in his head, "god, die already..."
[09:32] Naoki Sato did not brush the contact away though he seemed rather focused, wrapped up in the doings of his ritual. Hermeticism and blood magic were his vehicles for necromancy - something innate, something learned and a marriage of both. He suppressed a shiver as the fog swirled, the smell strengthening as shapes shuffled in its depths. Hands, then arms crawled their way up the shore, buffeted by the water as several corpses in various stages of decay pulled themselves onto the beach.
Sato stood from his circle then, straightening his back as they approached. Two were simply torsos clawing their way across the sand, the other three shuffling on decrepit and bloated limbs. They paused in a line in front of the pair and stared.
"I have questions. Words were spoken of a thing that must be killed. Something that must die. I want to know what that thing is," he stated clearly. Sato looked at them, the stages of decay. There was a distinct possibility the two of them were going to need to fleshcraft them some proper vocal chords.
[09:41] November Morsus stared blankly out into those grey fog-ridden waves until he found the empty eye sockets of a decaying, bloated corpse staring right back at him. He tenses then, shifted a little closer to Sato, not knowing if this was a soul who had cried out to him in its very last hour of need, or one which had reviled him right down to its very last breath.
Clawed hands twitched, fanged teeth tightened. He hovered there in uncertainty, biting back the urge to simply let fly, devour the revenants in a blood-spattered instant and then flee to some dark hole he could curl up in. But... THey needed this information. The whole island did, with disturbing dreams leaking into more than just his own slumber, fog swallowing ships whole. So as he spotted the missing vocal chords, he gulped, those long fingers twitching with magic as well as mere agitation, and slowly, carefully approached.
[09:46] Naoki Sato stepped forward when November did, just as one of the corpses raised a hand and pointed... at the statuesque figure of the stone Jericho on the beach. It grunted and garbled something like, "Gggggginnnnnniiiiieeee," in a breath that reeked and spilled out seawater along with it. Sato blinked. "That statue was not there before," he stated and went over to investigate it. The zombie looked at November and at the statue. "Ssssddooooonnnnneeee mahhhhhnn."
"At least it can speak," the Jikininki said as he placed a hand on Jericho's statue and concentrated on it. He could sense life... the faint flicker of it inside the thing. He shook his head. It was not a familiar sort of feeling. "Are they saying this is what your dream was about? Do you remember a statue?"
Sato returned to November's side. The crawling revenants were beating at the sand and thrashing their heads from side to side. They, unfortunately, could not speak.
[09:57] November Morsus was just about to begin knitting the ragged, rotten flesh of the zombies' throats back together to give them voice, when one who still could speak pointed to the mysterious stone statue on the beach. "That.... That looks like...." A few harried steps forward, before his eyes went wide. "Oh.... Oh Hells below, that's Jericho..." And something told him this wasn't merely a very good likeness that a talented sculpter had carved overnight...
"Jericho darling? Are you, in there?" A hand gently placed on a stone shoulder, but stone it remained. "Fuck-..." Tears began to leak from the corners of his eyes. "May you find peace in your next life, dear Jericho, should you indeed be gone from this one..." His arms tightened around the waist of the statue for a moment, tears leaking onto his shoulder, before, sighing, he pulled away. "I don't recall a statue, or a living Jericho, in my nightmare. But he could have been the... thing they were trying to... kill...." Tears were coming faster now, cutting eyeliner trails down his cheeks. "Fucking Hell I should have been THERE...."
[10:05] Naoki Sato watched November with a tilted head. While he could feel the sadness he certainly did not understand it, not having met the man himself. The Jikininki was content to let the man have his moment and looked from the talking zombie to the crawling one. "Is that it? Was Jericho the thing that neededed to die?" he asked.
The crawling corpses were still shaking their heads while the speaking one drawled out a "Nohhh. Nohhh sdonnne mahnn. SHhhhhhh. Phhshhhhh."
Sato frowned at the corpse. He couldn't understand him terribly well. Walking to examine the other raised bodies, he began to single out which ones had the most intact tongue, lips, and throats. "November. We need to make one that can speak clearly," he said, still flat in affect even as he approached the man and nudged hid forehead against his back, half affection and half an attempt to keep corpse gunk off of his clothing.
[10:13] November Morsus took a deep, shaky breath, tried to steel himself. At least Jericho hadn't died in such a cruel, horrible manner, and perhaps he wasn't even really dead at all. He held onto this hope, used it to staunch the tears that threatened to flood from his eyes like a tsunami of grief. Another deep breath and his sorrow retreated, leaving him while not as stone-faced as Sato, still in control enough to begin fleshcrafting.
"Come here... Come here," he cooed to the nearest crawling zombie, strangely gentle even to this rotting, leaking corpse as he lifted its chin in one hand, tilting it back to expose the throat. The other hand dove deep into the rotted viscera, carefully weaving the remains of tissue and tendon back together, to create something that was at least sort of like a larynx, if not perfectly due to the amount of tissue that was missing.
[10:20] Naoki Sato was far less kind to the creatures. When he found tissue intact he ripped it from that corpse and handed it to November, resulting in dead with hanging jaws and rotting tongues on display. The corpse November chose to work on became the one Sato figured they would 'make whole' and ready for speech so he worked to that end, taking musculature and ribs and lungs and airway bits so they couuld meld them all back together.
"There is a spirit still in that statue," he said as November worked. "I can exert no control over it. It hasn't been divorced from its body." It was meant to be comforting, apparently. There was curiosity more than anything flooding through Sato as they worked so when they finally had a corpse that was whole enough to properly communicate he propped it up against his knee and spoke to it again.
"What is it that should be killed?" he asked directly. Sato was not terribly concerned with the other bodies, though they still dutifully remained nearby, wobbling or laying about in the sand and awaiting orders.
[10:25] November Morsus took whatever pieces Sato handed him without comment, slowly fading into the zen of surgery, laser focused on producing the best result in the least amount of time. "Oh, thank fuck, he murmured softly even as he didn't take his eyes from the task at hand, Sato's bumbling, practical attempt at comfort apparently all the taller man needed; reassurance that his dear friend wasn't entirely gone. "Hang in there, Jericho darling!" November shouted, on the off chance that the statue might be able to hear them still, "we'll find a way, I swear it!"
That being said, he dove back into the fleshcrafting, the makeshift larynx he'd created now as whole as a living man's. "There, that should do it. Now, please, what happened that night?" He asked the corpse, though he wasn't sure if it would listen to him or only the man who had commanded its return, "was... Was it me you wished dead with such vehemence? Or, something else?"
[10:42] Naoki Sato hummed as he watched November work, an ache growing palpably between his legs at the precision and skill. He did not act on it though, not while the man was in mourning - or recovering therefrom. Instead he focused on their repaired body, watching the corpse as November spoke to it.
"Answer him," Sato commanded when the revenant hesitated. Nodding, the drowned man lifted his head to stare sightlessly into November's eyes. "No," he rasped. "The fog. They came out of the fog... creatures like man, like fish. Parts of them - wrong." It raised itself up off of the sand with a creak of bones and pops of barely-there cartilage. "Out of the water... they came out of the water."
Sato peered back at the pathway that led to town. Luckily the place was deserted - no one to see their obvious displays of grotesque magic. When he turned back to the corpses it was to the broken and incomplete. "I want to do something with these. Answer if he asks you more," he said at both November and their repaired dead friend.
[10:51] November Morsus sighed a shaky shudder of relief as the corpse at last clarified that it wasn't him they were after, that he wasn't about to be hunted to excinction yet again. "Thank you dear," he purred softly, stroking the corpse on its wet, sticky hair, some of it coming off in November's fingers, "I'm sorry that I wasn't able to answer your prayers in time, but know that, even now, you are loved..." As Sato gave the command for his questions to be answered, his brows narrowed, and, still cradling the dead thing's skull, he spoke. "These... Aquatic horrors. Were these the ones who did this to the Stone Man?" A nod towards Jericho.
As he questioned the corpse, he couldn't resist looking over to Sato, curious what it was he was crafting with the rest of its compatriots. Besides, he just loved to watch the man work...
[11:00] Naoki Sato took the first corpse and began mending, packaging away dangling bits and sealing over skin. He seemed to be ensuring that no parts of it were hanging "loose" and were instead contained within what parts connective tissue and skin were left behind. When he was finished he carved a Seiman into its chest and bid it to stay so he could move on to do the same to the others.
The corpse did not appear to know how to respond to November's affection. He made shuddering noises almost like sobs or like hisses at once. "Fast. So fast. They attacked... out of nowhere." It turned its head as if it could see Jericho's statue form on the beach before shaking it with a few creaks of its neckbones. "No... not the creatures. Not the things from the sea..."
The corpse groaned and slumped back onto the sand. "Collld. Cold and wretched. They swim there still, and we drift... among the waves, trapped. Trapped with them." As he spoke there was a shuffling as Sato walked the first neatly-packaged of the other corpses into the center of his blood circle and, the matching Seiman to the one he'd carved in its chest visible like a fresh carving in his own forehead.
[11:09] November Morsus purred low and sweet to the mouldering corpse, beginning to hum a gentle tune in his low, bass tones. "Poor dear... It's alright, it's all over now.... So these, creatures... They're not what did this to Jericho, but they are still out there, still a threat... You say we are trapped, do you believe they'll attack again should anyone try to leave the isle?" His head cocked, occasionally drifting glances over to Sato, curious as he remodeled each corpse to near-perfect condition. What could he be using them for? "Keepers, darling?" He called out to him, his glance gesturing from Sato, to the corpses, and back again.
[11:18] Naoki Sato shook his head, his eyes still on the first corpse that he'd positioned within the circle. "No. I am helping them pass on. But he's vain. They had to be presentable," came the answer. Sato put his hands on the corpse's shoulders and bid it to kneel, helping it to its knees in the sand as his own eyes went pitch-black. The blood that dyed the sand and the circle beneath shifted, adjusting the carving, making that same five-pointed star beneath the Jikininki.
"No fog, no seal, no covenant will trap you here," he said quietly. The glamour stripped slowly from his body, spreading his mouth into a ghoulish maw, bulging his veins, eating away at the space in his abdomen to reveal the swirl of vicera and the hungry eyes that sat within - so much like Hunter's own, whenever they popped up in excess. He moved a hand to the corpse's head and bowed it before slowly beginning to force it head-first into the depths of his insides.
The corpse sank in whole, head to foot, its limbs quivering with tremors that shook Jikininki's whole form and left his eyes bleeding black ichor. Lucifer's sigil revealed itself on his lower back, bold and angry, etched into his very skin - a sign he was exorcising a power given to him by the Morningstar.
[11:25] November Morsus cocked his head, then grinned. "Sending them to a better place, are you? Thank you, dear..." He trilled, absolutely beaming at the sight of the corpse being swallowed whole into the void. "Should we all be so fortunate as to enter Hell in such a spectacular fashion..." A dreamy, wistful sigh. "You really are beautiful like this...." If he noticed that his own power seemed to lessen, faintly, as a soul which had cried out to him was instead dedicated to another form of the Dark Lord, he didn't seem to respond to it much, entirely too enamoured with the sight of Sato consuming them. He'd even almost forgotten his own corpse, still idly petting it even as more bits of hair came off stuck to his hand.
[11:35] Naoki Sato buckled once the thing had been fully consumed, falling to his knees and glutching his abdomen as his teeth gnashed and snapped at the air. Skin and flesh bulged around the hole as the eyes spun wildly, far too focused on the act of acting as vessel and conduit for something passing on to really look anywhere. When the dead was done Sato fell forward on his hands and panted from the exertion.
He was aching. The whole endeavor had his body wracked with need that November no doubt felt coming off of the little yokai in pulses and waves. Serving, as he had pledged to do to both break the covenant and forge a new world for his incoming spawn, left him undeniably hungry to be filled in more ways than one. He did not speak to ask anything of November but the want and desire were certainly there, burning in those nerves. He looked once at him and shakily he got to his feet, commanding the next corpse into the circle with a singular word - <Come.>
[11:43] November Morsus, though the word was meant for the corpse, rose to his feet as soon as the command was given, swooping over to the exhausted Sato to gather him into his arms. "Nnnnn, my poor darling.... This takes a lot out of you, doesn't it?" Long, willowy limbs pulled Sato onto his lap, felt the hunger, felt the need. "Why don't you let dear old Dr. Morsus take care of you then," he purred, low and vicious, into the skin of Sato's throat, leaving tiny pinprick toothmarks which Sato would soon realize had twice as many points as before, as really should be there.
Even as the next corpse prepared to be consumed, November's skeletal fingers slid down to Sato's waistband, began picking loose his fly as he pressed close against his back, leaving a trail of delicate bite-rings down the side of his throat.
[11:49] Naoki Sato leaned back against November's sinuous frame, tipping his head back to allow him better access to his neck. The flesh popped and bled freely, near-flayed as it was in this form, raw and tense and exposed. The Jikininki groaned at the feeling of teeth, his trousers falling away easily to reveal the cruel, tight metal rings that comprised his cage. The symbols on it were well-worn and partly effaced, the magic on it well on its way to being completely broken, as evidenced by Sato's ability to drop his glamour where he had once been restricted from it.
The cock and knot were swollen in those metal confines, his tip already wet with pre that bridged from it to the insides of his pants. Sato used his hands to force the next corpse into him while tendrils of dark red blood spilled from his abdomen to tug at November's trousers in turn, some of them slipping inside to rub and stroke and tease coaxingly.
[11:59] November Morsus reveled in the taste of Sato's flayed open neck, how freely the muscle fibre parted under his tongue, under his double row of teeth. A low, satisfied purr matched that groan as his hands slid over the caged beast between Sato's legs, then paused, November huffing a sigh. "Really now, dear," he murmured, trailing lazy kisses over the bite marks he'd only just inflicted, "we've got to get you free of that thing... Let you truly, unleash yourself once more..." Devilish chuckles poured from him as nimble fingers stroked him through the bars, perhaps managing to rub off more of the magically sealing symbols in turn.
He reached up only to lick pre off his fingers, purring in delight as his heavily modified cock squirmed to assist those blood tendrils in turn, sinuous and prehensile, wrapping around the tendrils that greeted it as a low, desirous moan poured from November's lips.
[12:06] Naoki Sato gasped at the absolute agony of a tongue twining around and lapping against his neck muscles. It caused a tremor that ran through his body, down his spine and made that caged cock twitch and dribble onto the sand. His body rocked back, feverishly hot against November's pale skin, round curves of his ass grinding against the squirming mess of blood tentacle and prehensile dick once all was bared to the seaside air.
There was a slight moment of surprise at just how agile November's bits were - at least until those nerves recalled the memory of it being modified and Sato remembered, felt the moments like they were his own. It caused a squirm that had him writhing against November, tendrils spreading his cheeks. The corpse was still pushing into him, disappearing bit by bit as it was offered as tribute in exchange for its safe passage to the beyond. The desire to be FILLED seethed from him.
"Fuck me!" he gasped, desparate and wanton.
[12:18] November Morsus purred as he felt the distant echoes of that very agony rumbling through his neurons, not enough to truly hurt from it himself, but exactly enough to know just how much it pained him. In response, a low rumble of bliss, his body heating against Sato's, breath ragged in his lungs.
"You know I can't resist you," he growled, right into Sato's ear as his prehensile, tentacle-like cock slithered forth, teased at Sato's entrance before plunging its slick tip inside, dripping with its own lubricant which he'd cheekily scented mint-licorice. His hands tightened on Sato's fever-hot form, stroking over him, one still tauntingly working his cock through the cage even as his thick, slippery tentacle wormed its way deeper.
[12:30] Naoki Sato moaned as he felt November penetrate him, the thick appendage sliding deep and stretching him delightfully around its girth. His eyes rolled, mouth agape with its many rows of teeth on display. Every touch and stroke to his caged cock made it twitch and throb, sending ache and delightful agony through the little yokai as his dick found itself unable to swell beyond the confines. Sato loved the pain; it was an endless loop of self-perpetuating arousal. He began thrusting and fucking himself onto the prehensile dick, need for it to mash against his prostate, to fuck him, to fill him burning at his core, almost seeming to speed the devouring of that corpse and the next as November pistoned in and out of him.
[12:42] November Morsus rumbled that low, satisfied purr, even as it began to dissolve into wanton moans of his own, Sato's tight, feverhot confines enough to make him lose his grip entirely, ravenous beast taking hold as claws raked down Sato's bare flesh, fangs sank in deep replacing soft pinpricks with bleeding punctures, and his thick tentacle shaft began to writhe, its squirming movement enough to slither and stroke against every sensitive spot at once.
The jikininki's gleeful participation only spurred November on, pushing him down into the sand even as he devoured corpse after corpse, utterly overtaking him with November's monstrous desire as his hips sped their rhythm, thumping into the smaller man with heavy, merciless thrusts. One hand tangled in his crimson-tipped hair, yanking the smaller body against himself with a low rumble. "How I've missed you, dear..."
[12:49] Naoki Sato panted and moaned at each rough thrust, the indulgence of such primal parts of his being making both the marks in his back and in his forehead burn boldly. It was a reminder of what he was at the core, lust and hunger and to ravenous degrees of eac. hHe slammed himself back against November's hips greedily, clenching tight as his body rode the edge of orgasm, stymied by the tightness of his cage.
Sato had few words on a good day. All he had while being taken so completely were the breathless noises of pleasure that came deep from the throat. Muscle tore away from his neck to give the nerves that sprawled through his tissue freedom to come in contact with November's teeth and tongue, electric sparks of pleasure and pain spiking through the neural network that connected them both. That tentacle writhed against his prostate with torturous frequency and Sato lost himself to the sensation.
When he finally came it was an agonized spurt of seed from the tip of that cage, spattering his ritual circle and the sand where the final corpse had been moments before being devoured. His climax sent tremors through his whole form, clenching inner walls around November's cock as pleadings came without words, driven by sheer desire from one mind to the, begging the older god to take and breed and fill him to the brim.
[13:02] November Morsus couldn't hope to last long under the absolute tidal wave of pleasure that was Sato; the heat of his skin, the taste of his bared muscle and sinew, the delicious agony and ecstacy that poured through their shared neural system, the way he so greedily writhed and thrust up against him. Even the way his nerves stroked at his tongue, begging to be bitten and devoured and to strengthen the connection between them yet further, build an unbreakable bridge of woven nerve fiber... He couldn't stop himself from severing a few tendrils, teeth clamping down to a delicious thrill of shared sensation.
When he came it was absolutely thunderous, a roar echoing out across the blessedly empty beach, his tentacle writhing and throbbing wildly as he filled Sato with an unbelievable amount of thick seed, seeming to almost tingle within him as November fulfilled that desperate need, filled him to the brim and more so. A few more languid, scattered thrusts, and the larger man was toppling into the sand, panting and spent, curling up around Sato and purring like an affectionate panther.
[13:07] Naoki Sato was filled to near-bursting, so much of that seed flowing into his insides that some of it bulged in his abdomen, hanging obscenely from that open gash as he panted on his hands and knees on the sand. He sagged sideways and into the curl of November's boy, the blood of his circle receding and coming back to him in the throb of afterglow. His glamour pieced itself back together as if in anticipation of their noises attracting unwanted attention but despite that Sato ground himself back against November with a little squirm of his hips. "Recover. And again?" he murmured, insatiable little thing that he was.