He’s never known fear; not in the classic sense of the word. Oh, he knows what it is - he’s seen it, tasted it, watched it breed amongst screams and blood and broken bones - but there’s never been a trace of it glittering in the madness of his black eyes. There is only emptiness there, along with hate and rage. Those feelings...those are feelings he knows well.
She’s speaking to him in the midst of his seething, bracing herself against the entirety of his weight as he attempts to plow into her, to rip anything from her body so that perhaps her magical properties no longer could host such witchcraft of the mind. He hates these types of magicians - trickery of the mind is no great feat; bend bone from skin, fill lungs with water, make them bleed...that is something to behold.
Blood pours down his chest and his forelegs, spilling from the curve of his neck and the delicate skin of his face, balking madly. “I care not for things that can be earned,” he presses with a grinding of his teeth against each other, lips twitching distastefully. “Blood spills either way,” Maugrim’s voice is thick with rage, the sparkling of his black eyes unsettling as he writhes beneath the incessant press of her great antlers, wondering how much further he would have to press himself for her to give way beneath him.
He does not relent, but his active pursuance of her grows idle. She’s captured his attention once again, this witchling.
“Who are you that you deem who is fruitless and who is not?”
His eyes flash darkly.
The fruitless are the easiest to be rid of.
I will snuff them out.
I am the finisher and I am forever.
god, make me pay like the devil i am
@[Kagerus]
this is all over the place i'm sorry <3