12-03-2017, 08:24 PM
god make me pay
like the devil i am
like the devil i am
He knows of nothing, of slipping into the undertow of the ocean, to rest peacefully within the blackest deep and to become forgotten, a corpse beneath the nothingness. It is familiar and it is home, beneath the depths of nothingness - and it is here, she finds herself once again.
He had smelled her before he had seen her - an enticing aroma that could only be called sweet to him. The stench of death causes him to creep into the trees, a solid form and a solid stallion instead of the liquified being he so often chooses to be.
A terrible, foreboding smile creeps onto the salt-soaked lips of pearl, a shadow that is cloaked by the darkness of the forest - he is a lingering haunt, a ghost among Beqanna, seen when only he wished to be seen. And, for once, he materializes outside of the water - not within - and he is almost impressed that she would remember his preferred choice as she stares into the murky depths of a stale, stagnant pond.
He had been watching her a for long while; the blackness of his eyes had eaten up her figure in a matter of seconds, his lips dampening with the wetness of his tongue as he drags it over the cracked skin. She had grown - she was simply delightful, and the fact that he knew her excited him, his blood pulsing quicker throughout every inch of his body. The lavender of her body entices him forward and to follow her, like a treasure among the shadows, and he is not ashamed in the fact that she had smelled his scent on the summer’s wind - he is glad she did.
“Deathwish,” he garbles roughly, his voice distorted as it vibrates from his throat, unused to the thinness of the air that surrounds them. Her name is familiar on his tongue, delectable and delicious as it forms in his mouth. He has grown, too, and though his cravings for blood and flesh remain his priority, upon seeing her, he wonders if the craving for flesh is just a bit different now. Grown and matured, he stalks to her side without much hesitation, his pearlescent muzzle running confidently over the soft grey of her neck and caressing her cheek, inhaling deeply. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies, his black irises meeting hers for the first time in years - he hadn’t thought to look into their abyss, as he so freely roved the curves of her supple body tirelessly before he had even thought to gaze into her face.
“Though it would’ve been easy...”
He had smelled her before he had seen her - an enticing aroma that could only be called sweet to him. The stench of death causes him to creep into the trees, a solid form and a solid stallion instead of the liquified being he so often chooses to be.
A terrible, foreboding smile creeps onto the salt-soaked lips of pearl, a shadow that is cloaked by the darkness of the forest - he is a lingering haunt, a ghost among Beqanna, seen when only he wished to be seen. And, for once, he materializes outside of the water - not within - and he is almost impressed that she would remember his preferred choice as she stares into the murky depths of a stale, stagnant pond.
He had been watching her a for long while; the blackness of his eyes had eaten up her figure in a matter of seconds, his lips dampening with the wetness of his tongue as he drags it over the cracked skin. She had grown - she was simply delightful, and the fact that he knew her excited him, his blood pulsing quicker throughout every inch of his body. The lavender of her body entices him forward and to follow her, like a treasure among the shadows, and he is not ashamed in the fact that she had smelled his scent on the summer’s wind - he is glad she did.
“Deathwish,” he garbles roughly, his voice distorted as it vibrates from his throat, unused to the thinness of the air that surrounds them. Her name is familiar on his tongue, delectable and delicious as it forms in his mouth. He has grown, too, and though his cravings for blood and flesh remain his priority, upon seeing her, he wonders if the craving for flesh is just a bit different now. Grown and matured, he stalks to her side without much hesitation, his pearlescent muzzle running confidently over the soft grey of her neck and caressing her cheek, inhaling deeply. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies, his black irises meeting hers for the first time in years - he hadn’t thought to look into their abyss, as he so freely roved the curves of her supple body tirelessly before he had even thought to gaze into her face.
“Though it would’ve been easy...”
m a u g r i m.
@[Deathwish]