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throwing shadows - bible - 02-23-2020
ever since i heard the howlin' wind
i didn't need to go where a bible went
i didn't need to go where a bible went
@[Jassal]
RE: throwing shadows - ghaul - 02-23-2020
GHAUL
i can take you there, but baby, you won't make it back
He has thought of his mother often but he has never voiced the things that play out in his head. Somehow, the knowledge that she would die was with him even before the other dreams came. Ghaul had braced himself for it and he had tried so hard not to be afraid when he slipped from her belly and into the snow. Still warm with her blood, he had felt a gnawing loneliness – his first emotion. And then he cried out for anyone at all to come and care for him, to hold him to their chest and love him. Gospel had answered and named him. She had bared her teeth and defended him. For a long time, she was Home to him.
Dawn had tried to be his mother, and she had done her best. She kissed his face and sang him to sleep until the shadows chased her away. Anaxarete took him under her wing, but she is close-fisted with her affections. She only touches him as a reward and it leaves him starving for something more.
He drifts from Nerine only for now, deciding it is time for a break from the terrors he wreaks upon their home. Her scent drifts across the wind and his small ears perk up when he catches it. Mother. First sacrifice. The hellbeast swallows hard and then he bounds forward with his wings tucked tight to his sides. The outline of her is warmer than when she died and it is the shape of sanctuary for him. The tall boy croons and the sound is achingly desperate when he draws near.
He wants to be cautious, to not suffocate her with his love, but he is ravenous when he tucks his great head under her chin. Her awful son is careful not to catch her soft skin with his horns or the barbs that protrude from his spine despite his feverish hurry. A trembling begins in his muscles and he feels his chest tighten at the feel of her warmth against his cheek.
“You were gone for so long. I was so cold,” he mumbles as his wings droop down his sides. “I thought I would die, Mother.”
And somewhere, in the distance, a figure watches with hatred in his eyes. But the looming shadow does not draw near – he only turns and leaves for now.
Dawn had tried to be his mother, and she had done her best. She kissed his face and sang him to sleep until the shadows chased her away. Anaxarete took him under her wing, but she is close-fisted with her affections. She only touches him as a reward and it leaves him starving for something more.
He drifts from Nerine only for now, deciding it is time for a break from the terrors he wreaks upon their home. Her scent drifts across the wind and his small ears perk up when he catches it. Mother. First sacrifice. The hellbeast swallows hard and then he bounds forward with his wings tucked tight to his sides. The outline of her is warmer than when she died and it is the shape of sanctuary for him. The tall boy croons and the sound is achingly desperate when he draws near.
He wants to be cautious, to not suffocate her with his love, but he is ravenous when he tucks his great head under her chin. Her awful son is careful not to catch her soft skin with his horns or the barbs that protrude from his spine despite his feverish hurry. A trembling begins in his muscles and he feels his chest tighten at the feel of her warmth against his cheek.
“You were gone for so long. I was so cold,” he mumbles as his wings droop down his sides. “I thought I would die, Mother.”
And somewhere, in the distance, a figure watches with hatred in his eyes. But the looming shadow does not draw near – he only turns and leaves for now.