12-04-2017, 05:50 PM
god make me pay
like the devil i am
like the devil i am
Pieces of kelp and seaweed interlock in the dark and white tangles of his mane, dripping with salt and brine from his ascendance into the world above the waves. He smells of the deep sea, of blackness and of nothingness. His bottomless eyes hungrily trace the pearl grey of her supple body, cracked ivory lips roughly dragging across the smooth, velvety skin just beneath her throat. He wonders if she’ll try to rot him, to deteriorate his body from the inside out and cause the thickly packed muscle and sinew on his shoulders and haunches to slough off his bone in huge bundles of flesh, only to make him whole again.
The sound of a crackling twig breaks the intense stare between the two, his ears flicking backwards at the sound. His head is turning towards the rodent, but Deathwish has already sprung into action, and he watches with an expressionless face as the animal fades away before his very eyes, writhing and then still, with organs and blood seeping from gaping holes of rotted flesh. He wrinkles his nose.
“I have never left,” he grumbles, his voice garbled with the sound of water in his throat, turning back to meet her gaze again, the crest of his curved neck still dripping saltwater down his shoulders and pooling beneath his evergreen hooves. “But you knew where to find me,” His voice is haunting and metallic, yet curious. “Chaos?” Murder. “You know that has never been my forte.” He is a silent killer, a stalker within the shadows that remains unseen, unnoticed, and unheard of. The show in Hyaline many years ago was too flashy for his tastes, and the stallion has learned how to create the perfect situation for his kills.
“You - lonely? Tsk.”
He brushes the dryness of his iridescent lips across her cheek; he might have tasted her, if he weren’t positive that she would rot his face clean off.
The sound of a crackling twig breaks the intense stare between the two, his ears flicking backwards at the sound. His head is turning towards the rodent, but Deathwish has already sprung into action, and he watches with an expressionless face as the animal fades away before his very eyes, writhing and then still, with organs and blood seeping from gaping holes of rotted flesh. He wrinkles his nose.
“I have never left,” he grumbles, his voice garbled with the sound of water in his throat, turning back to meet her gaze again, the crest of his curved neck still dripping saltwater down his shoulders and pooling beneath his evergreen hooves. “But you knew where to find me,” His voice is haunting and metallic, yet curious. “Chaos?” Murder. “You know that has never been my forte.” He is a silent killer, a stalker within the shadows that remains unseen, unnoticed, and unheard of. The show in Hyaline many years ago was too flashy for his tastes, and the stallion has learned how to create the perfect situation for his kills.
“You - lonely? Tsk.”
He brushes the dryness of his iridescent lips across her cheek; he might have tasted her, if he weren’t positive that she would rot his face clean off.
m a u g r i m.
@[Deathwish]