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Post by Gilda Hohenzollern on Dec 18, 2016 16:25:22 GMT -5
Winning, it was more than just a thing for Gilda. Winning was something she needed. It was or had become, at some point long ago, an addiction like some powerful drug. She wanted to overthrow the barriers of the ice queen and she urged herself to bring all her strength to bear against the Palace walls. The mind was willing but the body was weak as the saying goes. She was a second year, she had accomplished so much in her short time on earth and it was easy to forget. She had practiced, she had experienced, she had basked in love and romance and learned oh so many little tricks that could be used. But while skill could hold its own against brute strength, stamina was always going to be key. Every trick she knew would not save her from running out her own clock. But she wasn't just fighting her own body, nor was she just fighting Alice. She was fighting herself on two fronts.
Gilda's fingers traced lines, playing every trick they knew across the porcelain body of her foe, but Alice's fingers traced only a moment behind them, mirroring the movements, adding their own trails and plays on the tactics Gilda had relied on. Her body flushed, the blood pounded from deep within her chest. Out from her heart it ran through her body. Better than a hot bath, it seemed to loosen up that which had tensed within her. Ears, nose, fingertips, every extremity pulsated with heat. She was truly hot blooded in this moment and the pressure within her grew.
She was losing. It was like a trickle of water, slowly tearing away a mountain, crumbling away at her own walls. Gilda was losing. Dancing fingers were no longer playing along her lover's body, no, they were clawing, needing, desperately trying to drag themselves from over the edge, to bring that salvation back that was so tantalizingly out of reach. They needed as she needed and Gilda needed release. She needed Alice. She needed Alice to need her. There was so much need and she just had to surrender herself to it. Gilda had always preferred to battle from her position of weakness. To turn submissive desire into power. But now, on the precipice of loss, her weakness threatened to dethrone her and her comfy perch threatened to give her everything to Alice. The two needs battled inside her. A need to win, a need to be won, One addiction fed and the other starved.
This was another aspect of fire, energy, a need to fight, fire would not compromise. But even through all that, Gilda was losing. She had lost. After what felt like an eternity, Gilda broke. Her hands dug into Alice's back and her lips broke away. Her moan of passion, need, pure animal lust faded among the dead wood. She buried her face into Alice's neck, muffling her own raw voice as she devoured the taste of her lover.
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“It is better to be feared than loved.”
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Post by Alice Himeno on Dec 31, 2016 3:46:10 GMT -5
This wasn't so much of an inferno; it was more like magma. Passionate, desperate; magma conquered and called for much more than fire. She could feel it in the desperation that now controlled Gilda's actions. When the warmer lips pulled from the chilled ones, Alice took a much needed breath. It was breathless and stilted by the other's passion. She'd won this time. She didn't count it much of a win, if just barely passable; had the goddess of fire been able to hold on a moment longer, the ice queen would have crumbled. If there were to some day be a next encounter, she, for once, wasn't certain she would win again. Perhaps she had finally met her match. To compensate for the fire goddess's loss, she focused all her will to loosen the habitual tension in her body spurred by the unfamiliarity of touch. It slowly melted, leaving herself partially open to the girl. The loss of the tension made her feel a bit vulnerable, which the prideful girl wasn't much fond of, but vulnerability aside, she tried not to care in this moment. A quiet, muffled sound akin to a soft moan long withheld soon betrayed her, and she cursed silently in her mind.?
This was what the widow was used to. The fervor of desperation and need from her prey. Though she didn't see Gilda as prey, so much as she saw her as an equal in predatory conduct, if not just a bit higher than the arachnid herself due to her reigning position on the student council, even if she was another school's council president. It was in moments like this, when desperation and lust bid control of action, where the widow often would pull away, leaving passions stagnated and the moment unkindled, and whomever she had invited in her fragile web to suddenly fall from its silken, frosted throne. All those teary, heartbroken faces. She couldn't recall any of the countless names of the hearts she had shattered. Perhaps it could be called sadistic, but such was the result of an ounce of venom, a temptress's coy heart, and the self-proclaimed emulation of a venomous white widow.
Yet Alice had no intention of letting Gilda fall from her metaphoric web. Not yet, at least. The council president had held her interest and the snow queen didn't mind the fire goddess's heated company. So young yet ambitious with a white-hot lust unmatched by any other. Gilda's personality, ambitions, and mutual flirtatious nature; there was something intriguing about how that blazing soul flared and that curious mind worked that captured Alice's fleeting interest. What such thoughts, insanity-driven or not, lay within that mind? What fueled the passions of that insatiable fire and what cooled it? Such enticing curiosities prickled at Alice, yet she would lay them to rest for now. She would slowly pull them apart in time, should her interest stay ignited. Even if it were a bit of a challenge, Alice didn't quite care, for a challenge wasn't always spoiled of fun. They could be just as invigorating.
She soon located and grabbed one of Gilda's hands and brought it to her lips, first kissing low on the warm palm then her wrist before deciding to briefly speak, "Fire might some day burn itself out, and ice might melt in wake of its heated radiance, but that moment they contact one another - the moment the core of fire meets the opposite one of ice - in that moment, they are brilliant and shimmer as one. Fire consuming ice and ice withstanding and yet melting in the passion of its molten rival. Their existence together is bittersweet, and only in rare cases do the polar elements live in a complete, yet strained harmony. A cruelty of nature, perhaps, yet nothing less of a wonder."
She continued to lay kisses to Gilda's wrist throughout the pauses in her speech, each longing kiss more passionate than the last. Her mind was like a wild flurry of snow, projected there by the passion of the parallel fiery mistress. She could feel her other hand beginning to wander passionately across the warmer body again, stroking up, down, and along her opponent's thighs, yet the ice queen quickly caught herself and instead relocated it back to the girl's waist and pressed Gilda as close as she could against her frosty being, wanting to feel the opposing warmth. It took all she had to spare what very little chastity there was in the encounter. Her toxic mind was focused on the girl in front of her. Her touch, her scent, her warmth. Even the taste of her lips which still lingered on the colder ones. Little else invaded the snowscape of her thoughts, yet she didn't let herself get too distracted. Ice, even in glacial form, stood little chance against an inferno, let alone, molten magma. Yet the snow queen was reaching her limit of self-control. Driven by lust now set aflame by her fiery other, half of her wished to frost over and maintain her pride and natural elegance while the other half wished for nothing more but for the passion of the ignited goddess to overtake and consume her in a glorious fire. After all, ice would eventually melt when exposed to fire for a certain period of time. Though Alice wasn't easily made to melt, let alone overcome in her own personal monarchy and brought to her knees.
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Post by Gilda Hohenzollern on Jan 24, 2017 21:32:03 GMT -5
She'd lost. That wasn't fair, that wasn't fair at all. She was the best, the strongest. She wasn't supposed to lose. But there she was, nearly melting in the frosty arms of another. How could she live, how could she stand herself. Her inner fire wanted out, wanted to give itself over, to run raging wild and free, it wanted out. But she had lost. What power she had flowed, given freely to Alice. Gilda had lost, was lost, what could be left. Her knees trembled as her strength left under the waves of fire. She needed release and freedom but here they were in public.
She opened her mouth to speak but all that came out was a low, desperate whimper. No, this was not right, it was not acceptable. She was the great and powerful Gilda, the leader of her school, the great uniter who would bring together all the sisters and carry them to a new age. She was the strongest. She had to be the strongest or she was nothing. But here was Alice, holding her, kissing her bare skin, surrender felt so good. No, her body may have lost, her mind may be a mess of hormones and desire, but if she was going to surrender, she would surrender on her own terms.
Gilda forced herself back into control, her body stopped shaking, at least obviously. It was still obvious to any who touched her that the control was a feather away from shattering again. But she broke away from the sweetness, pulled herself from the edge and away from Alice. She took two steps back. A show for the ghost, well, the ghost had its show. This was a show of power, that even in defeat, in her weakest moment, Gilda was still the mistress of her body and soul. Nobody controlled Gilda but Gilda.
"Alice." Gilda abandoned pretense and play. The nickname might come back, but not now. "You are great, and I need greatness. There is nothing better than a great person beside you and nothing better in the cold. I'm going inside. Going to my dorm. I want you there with me. No games." Her words came out slow, choppy, split by panting breaths as her voice begged with husky tones betraying a strong need.
Gilda turned away from the ice queen and started taking her first steps away. Alice had to follow, Gilda didn't know what she would do if Alice didn't follow. Was it masochism? Was it a need for pain, was she a glutton for punishment? Is that why she wanted to slam her body against the glacier until one or the other shattered? A light sting of cold struck her cheek. She turned her eyes skyward. A flake of snow? The first portent of a winter storm. Winter had won, ice had defeated fire and now the weather itself mocked her.
She clenched her teeth, grinding them together. Her terms, her loss. She would surrender herself to Alice. Because she wanted it, because she needed it, because Alice won. But then she would return, stronger, better, more skilled. Hotter than ever with fires stoked to a degree unknown by mankind. Let Alice have her, let the ravishing fulfill her every need. Gilda preferred fighting from a position of weakness. Her jaw relaxed and a smile touched her lips again.
She was cold and the wind chilled her. The winter uniform would not stand in the way of the cold that Gilda hoped would soon touch every part of her. The weakness faded. The bars that locked her body's shivering weakness grew stronger and Gilda found her footing to be steadier. But the need remained. Every step, every movement, every sway was a plea for Alice to follow. She would not ask again, she would not let the weakness show, not so soon or else she might never find her strength again.
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“It is better to be feared than loved.”
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Post by Alice Himeno on Mar 2, 2017 1:01:41 GMT -5
Ice had combated against fire and won. Not that she thought her passionate opponent was any weaker than her, but the outcomes had been in her favor this time around. As the goddess of fire pulled away, Alice let her, bringing her now empty arms across her torso and the other to rest an elbow upon it, leaving the hand to lay against her narrow chin as she adopted her usual idle stance. Her fiery lover was surrendering, it seemed, though with a request. Whether Alice would abide or not, the widow pondered, listening, not letting her thoughts betray her usual monotone expression.
She could hear it in Gilda's voice. A begging need; a need for release, a need for the snowy queen of ice. The student council president might have composed herself, but that wasn't enough to veil that stilted desire. Icy eyes watched Gilda like a bit of a hungry wolf as she began to walk away. She was being beckoned to follow. Begged to follow. The temptress would usually take a step, looking as if to pursue but only to offer a parting word and turn the other direction and leave. It was all a game; she took pleasure out of pushing others from her metaphoric web at their moments of weakness. It was sadistic and even a bit heartless, but such was the rules of her manipulative game.
Though Gilda wasn't like her ordinary encounters. She was strong and held an ambition that she seemed determined to uphold no matter if she burned out or burnt herself in the process. That perseverance - that undying drive - it intrigued Alice. A fire like hers wasn't one that seemed to be put out easily. Alice only expected it to grow and burn brighter and stronger, perhaps even to the point of surpassing the limits of her own rival ice. The widow was curious to see what sort of path she would blaze. What would become of the fiery opponent. Would she be consumed by her own fire in a feverish blaze, or learn to further burn bright with it, a monarchy of the red hot element? The mild curiosities fluttered like a snow flurry within the white widow's mind as she pondered the course of her actions. A flurry of snow. She was starting to feel the ironic chill. Whether it be from the shift in weather or the presence of the ghost herself, Alice didn't mind. She was a creature of it, after all. Yet fire was not.
Finally, Alice let her snowflake flashes fall shut and slide open once more to their usual narrow state. She hadn't yet made a move. Call it creating a scene of suspense, she had honestly just became lost in her thoughts for a moment. The chill was welcomed by the snow queen. Ice had won this round. It seemed that even the weather was to mock the unsuccessful fire. Alice finally took a step, yet it wasn't back. Nor was it away; it was in contemplation of pursuit. Then she took another to stand with her feet elegantly together, her footsteps light as to keep her position one to be guessed. She looked up briefly at the charred tree. At the supposed haven of the ghost and the charred remains of what once was. Rumor or not, she supposed she wouldn't know. What was the spirit's commentary on the encounter? What did it matter? Her gaze drifted back to the president. Ice might have dominated this time, but the fire would probably only return with a new heat.
"As you wish, mon cherie." The confirming words slipped out in a faint frosted cloud.
With her agreement in place, she took another graceful step, then another, in pursuit. She'd agreed. This time, at least. Let her honor the fire goddess's surrender and satisfy the begging desire. She expected Gilda to return with an even stronger fiery resolve and would welcome it when that time came. Her ice wouldn't melt easily. And neither would she.
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