09-29-2018, 12:22 PM
it was a blood-soaked feast
that never ceased
that never ceased
His eyes cannot help but flicker back to the proudness of the antlers that are settled atop her head like a crown; they beg for his attention and he contemplates their ability to tear skin from skin, as well as their hardiness - just as bone can snap, so can these beautiful weapons. He wonders if blood would spill from each broken piece, or if merely marrow will flow. His thoughts on this last only lasts a few moments, as her voice and posture demands his attention again. His ears flick back possessively, irritated at her vile words that she so carelessly throws into the air - as if name-calling will affect his temperament or would bide him to become something to be commanded. Her facial expression and overall countenance lets him know that his presence is something to be disgusted by, though it does not deter him. It almost beckons him to step closer, to press the ruby of his lips against the gnarled wound of her face, intermingle his blood with her own. But again he eyes that glorious crown, and refrains.
Maugrim’s lips now press together tightly into a thin line, the movement spreading the stickiness of coagulated blood further across his pearlescent mouth. He does not move away from her - not yet - and instead finds the blackness of his irises staring down at her interestedly, one side of his mouth twitching as he attempts to feign patience. “Quickly then, dearie,” he drawls harshly, though at the same moment her own movement is quicker, snapping her chin to her auburn chest and shoving the brunt of her bony spears towards him. He shuffles backwards, his eyes alight with something like excitement, pressing him away with the threat of sharp swords into the sheer skin of his face. Laughter bubbles in his throat as one of the antlers pierce just beneath his right eye, fresh blood easily rolling down his cheek.
He has given her the space she has requested, but only at a small breadth where he is just out of reach of her prying spikes, a sparkling gaze finding his eyes as a sinister smile rolls onto his bloodied lips. “A gift?” he murmurs thoughtfully with amusement as her dream presses into the inner recesses of his mind. He wonders what it is she could truly offer him when she knows nothing of his true desires and wants, but it is admirable in the way she attempts to do so.
However, the feeling of her in his mind strikes a chord with him - it is a familiar feeling, one of being possessed and overtaken, offered a gift but then taken advantage of and tricked. His sick and charming demeanor suddenly changes, his eyes blinking wildly at her as he attempts to force the dream away with a savage shake of his head, pressing in towards her despite the antlers she keeps before her in defense. A smart move, for if they had not been there his attack would have been much more effective.
Maugrim eagerly presses himself against the force of her antlers, forcing her to take on his weight. His wild gaze stews with sudden anger and hunger. “How dare you take me for a fool,” he seethes, the bony spires of her crown piercing into his upper neck and the bottom of his throat, not caring the way that they easily slice into the soft and supple skin. He attempts to reach around them with a snake of his head, snapping at the air in hopes his teeth would catch on skin, or that she would begin back away from him, where he knew his lake would swallow her whole. “I don’t do deals with witches,” his voice is raw and deadly ominous, using his own ability to press whatever moisture that is in the springtime air into her nostrils. It would be barely noticeable for a while; perhaps in a few minutes she would begin to feel droplets of water leak into her lungs.
Maugrim’s lips now press together tightly into a thin line, the movement spreading the stickiness of coagulated blood further across his pearlescent mouth. He does not move away from her - not yet - and instead finds the blackness of his irises staring down at her interestedly, one side of his mouth twitching as he attempts to feign patience. “Quickly then, dearie,” he drawls harshly, though at the same moment her own movement is quicker, snapping her chin to her auburn chest and shoving the brunt of her bony spears towards him. He shuffles backwards, his eyes alight with something like excitement, pressing him away with the threat of sharp swords into the sheer skin of his face. Laughter bubbles in his throat as one of the antlers pierce just beneath his right eye, fresh blood easily rolling down his cheek.
He has given her the space she has requested, but only at a small breadth where he is just out of reach of her prying spikes, a sparkling gaze finding his eyes as a sinister smile rolls onto his bloodied lips. “A gift?” he murmurs thoughtfully with amusement as her dream presses into the inner recesses of his mind. He wonders what it is she could truly offer him when she knows nothing of his true desires and wants, but it is admirable in the way she attempts to do so.
However, the feeling of her in his mind strikes a chord with him - it is a familiar feeling, one of being possessed and overtaken, offered a gift but then taken advantage of and tricked. His sick and charming demeanor suddenly changes, his eyes blinking wildly at her as he attempts to force the dream away with a savage shake of his head, pressing in towards her despite the antlers she keeps before her in defense. A smart move, for if they had not been there his attack would have been much more effective.
Maugrim eagerly presses himself against the force of her antlers, forcing her to take on his weight. His wild gaze stews with sudden anger and hunger. “How dare you take me for a fool,” he seethes, the bony spires of her crown piercing into his upper neck and the bottom of his throat, not caring the way that they easily slice into the soft and supple skin. He attempts to reach around them with a snake of his head, snapping at the air in hopes his teeth would catch on skin, or that she would begin back away from him, where he knew his lake would swallow her whole. “I don’t do deals with witches,” his voice is raw and deadly ominous, using his own ability to press whatever moisture that is in the springtime air into her nostrils. It would be barely noticeable for a while; perhaps in a few minutes she would begin to feel droplets of water leak into her lungs.
m a u g r i m.
@[Kagerus]
:|
basically violence offered him power and then possessed him just for fun, and now he's pretty triggered by anyone who attempts to find a way into his mind or seems like they're just trying to trick him. IM SORRY. i'm sure kag will be able to convince him it's not a 'deal', but more of a win-win for him?