I've got a game to play if you like to lose; ryatah

[Carnage]

and lord, I fashion dark gods too;

He laughs, a terrible sound that is nearly lost in the waves. She forgets, then, his power, must think him mortal, or otherwise weak. He sees the realization flash in her eyes, a moment too late, and he inhales, imagining he can scent fear there, mixed with sea and salt air.
The water continues to rise, at her chest now. She remains calm, but he is attuned to the smallest changes, sees the flicker of white in her eyes. He grins, steps closer, until he’s almost pressed against the barrier. He wishes he could touch her, like this, wet and with death snapping at her heels (snapping, or foaming and surging); but he settles for watching.

“I’m changing your mind,” he says, sighing, “or, at least, trying to.”
He pulls more water in. He’s a bit impatient, now, overly eager for this, spurred on by her begging.
“It’s a lesson,” he says, and his voice is calm, almost scholarly, “on how to respect death.”
The water rises, and eventually swallows her. He watches as she thrashes, as her eyes meet his, and she wonders what she’s thinking – if she knows she’s dying, or if she’s convinced he’ll swoop in at the last minute and save her, a god from the machine.
(It’s a role he enjoys playing, but not now. Now, he is here to teach. To show.)
Eventually, the life goes out of her eyes and she dies, unsaved.

He steps back, almost primly, and sends the water back to sea, drops the barrier. Her body crashes with a graceless thud to the wet floor, and he moves closer. He can touch her, now, and he does, tracing his muzzle over her limp neck, tasting salt. When he gets to her ear, he mutters something, a guttural word in the back of his throat, and life is spat back into her.
(He doesn’t need the words, but they make it easier. Almost like a shortcut. A tool to hone the power. To take and restore life so frivolously requires shortcuts.)
“How was it?” he asks as he eyes blink open, seawater still beading on the lashes, and oh, she is beautiful as she wakes from her death, and he can’t help but smile.

c a r n a g e