[img]http://th01.deviantart.net/fs10/PRE/i/2006/132/e/4/Bleeding_Heart_by_ViraA.jpg[/img]

The seas of red. The rivers of red.
The pools of red. The skies of red.
The world shall be bathed in blood.
Drowned in it. Grim omens. Grim Tales.

A shiver of excitement, a rush at her touch. A heart beating faster in her palm, each palpitation a murmur of her praises. Dripping of the blood tithe, it was removed from the life-giving blood pool it remained in. Arresting itself as it became starved of its own fluids, screaming out as it pumped itself empty from its chambers. It could not die in her hands, no, she would never let it die, its owner was far too useful and devoted. His reward was this, a moment of love and attention for his goddess, his heart pulled from the pool at last. And still beating, ever beating in her palm as tasted the flesh. A twisted kiss worthy of the goddess of blood, a reward which Dyleon would kill for... and die for.

A small gasp escaped his lips, the corners licked clean of blood by his companion. Dyleon's heart was still tied to him, and everything she did upon it he could feel. He was at her mercy, toyed by her to the brink and released with a kiss. His heart raced for her, and because of her, his bloodlust was fueled by her, and perhaps she became his obsession because of his bloodlust. Which came first perhaps only X could ever speak in truth, yet it mattered not for the only truth there was, was those truth written in blood. So the Goddess shall have her wish fulfilled.

"Then I will make Blood wash Ink!" Dyleon panted out, whimpering and knelt before Dearg. Oh she tormented him so, his heart removed from the preserving pool. But in his mind, it was his reward, the torment meant that she was pleased with his performance, that she had not forgotten him or his heart. She was his, and his alone, no other follower would take his place and have their heart held by her as such. No vampire, cultist or whatever else dared to call her their goddess would ever match his undying love for her. She gave him purpose for being, a reason to live, to serve her. Unlike his former God who cast him out as an exile amongst his former allies. 

"Sekaulla, My Goddess, your Servant goes to please you..." He uttered his promises, clutching his chest and climbing atop his dire wolf. "Blood, for the Blood Goddess!" And with that, the bloody pair left behind the eradicated village, leaving nothing more than trial of blood, rotting corpses, and a set of bloody paw prints to the west.