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+------ Thread: god make me pay like the devil i am; dark (/showthread.php?tid=27715)
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god make me pay like the devil i am; dark - Maugrim - 09-03-2020
it was a blood-soaked feast
that never ceased
that never ceased
There is nothing left of her, surely; he wonders pensively if anyone had mourned her death (murder) or if the children had survived to carry on in her rememberance. Even if they didn’t, perhaps the ghost of the once Ischian queen would find solace in the fact that he remembered her.
He remembers all of them. Fondly, too.
And perhaps that is one reason he returns to the still and silent forests of Sylva, with its fire-glowing canopies and dark, damp undergrowth - where the blackness of its lakes are as dark as pitch and slick with algae. The stallion attempts to be just a shadow; a nobody beneath the winter’s blue sky that is hidden beneath thick and fiery foliage, returning to a place that once held the semblance of a home for him. A place where he had once found a true sense of belonging.
His body is covered with a watery sheen, eternally damp and dripping as he creates rivers of moisture that cut carefully across each patch of pearlescent lavender and dark evergreen on his skin. Despite the water-logged appearance, he finds that the bitter cold that bites at his skin is pleasant.
When he comes to the familiar body of water, the stallion only comes to a halt when the pearled color of his legs reach knee-deep. The water is as chilly and black as he remembers; stagnant and seemingly bottomless. He, the Poseidon, knows better. In a blink his entire body loses all color and solidity; for a moment he wavers there, completely paused in time as a watery stallion, black and dark as the lake’s water gives him his shape. Then, he disappears beneath the surface.
There is nothing left of her.
Only bone and waterlogged scraps of skin, unrecognizable to any besides the one that had so carefully laid her to rest. He wonders if her body had poisoned the lake in which he had drowned her, but so many years have passed that she now is simply marrow and sunken eyes, unseeing and wide. He stays down there for some time, a beast that is somewhere between reality and fantasy, the shape of an equine but fully water. He reminisces, finding comfort in her empty sockets and that deep hole in her forehead as his tendrils of water sweep over the bright green shell that remains beside her, twirling it in his grasp thoughtfully.
He remembers all of them. Fondly, too.
And perhaps that is one reason he returns to the still and silent forests of Sylva, with its fire-glowing canopies and dark, damp undergrowth - where the blackness of its lakes are as dark as pitch and slick with algae. The stallion attempts to be just a shadow; a nobody beneath the winter’s blue sky that is hidden beneath thick and fiery foliage, returning to a place that once held the semblance of a home for him. A place where he had once found a true sense of belonging.
His body is covered with a watery sheen, eternally damp and dripping as he creates rivers of moisture that cut carefully across each patch of pearlescent lavender and dark evergreen on his skin. Despite the water-logged appearance, he finds that the bitter cold that bites at his skin is pleasant.
When he comes to the familiar body of water, the stallion only comes to a halt when the pearled color of his legs reach knee-deep. The water is as chilly and black as he remembers; stagnant and seemingly bottomless. He, the Poseidon, knows better. In a blink his entire body loses all color and solidity; for a moment he wavers there, completely paused in time as a watery stallion, black and dark as the lake’s water gives him his shape. Then, he disappears beneath the surface.
There is nothing left of her.
Only bone and waterlogged scraps of skin, unrecognizable to any besides the one that had so carefully laid her to rest. He wonders if her body had poisoned the lake in which he had drowned her, but so many years have passed that she now is simply marrow and sunken eyes, unseeing and wide. He stays down there for some time, a beast that is somewhere between reality and fantasy, the shape of an equine but fully water. He reminisces, finding comfort in her empty sockets and that deep hole in her forehead as his tendrils of water sweep over the bright green shell that remains beside her, twirling it in his grasp thoughtfully.
m a u g r i m.
@[dark]
RE: god make me pay like the devil i am; dark - dark - 10-02-2020
Dark
She comes because she is so like her mother at this age, so soft and bright, so curious to discover a world that she naively hopes will delight her. She has seen her mother’s brokenness, of course, but she cannot fathom that she had ever been anyone but who she is now, so dark and quiet, so lost. There are slivers of a past she’s been able to discern, but no good story is built on the splinters of half truths. She knows her father is involved somehow, and her aunt of course, because they make Luster darker somehow. Darker than night, and space, darker than the furious pain in her eyes.
But there are times when Luster shares stories, when she doesn’t have her heart locked down so firmly in her chest, and Dark can wheedle out moments of her mother's past, and of the friends and loves she had held dear to her. She supposes the story of how her parents met should be her favorite, but any mention of dad makes mom splinter further, so she’s learned to stop asking. Maybe someday dad will tell her if she asks.
But no, her favorite story is of the first time Luster met the man in the lake. Stillwater. There is a smile on her face even now as she hurries from Taiga to find the place where the trees are large and ancient, and the leaves look like every shade of a trapped sunset, of heatless fire. It isn’t hard to find, and once she does she creeps in quietly, those delicate blue ears swiveling softly to track and capture the nearest sounds. There is a smile on her face, soft and like starlight, a matching lightness in her pale brown eyes as she discovers a worn path that leads her inland.
She isn’t sure how far she’s meant to go before the lake will be near, but she guesses from the story that it is almost exactly at the heart of the territory. Tricky, if the leader is unfriendly, but hopefully whoever they are won’t take much offence at a bright-eyed girl chasing the ghosts of her mother's memories. To be fair, she isn’t particularly intimidating anyway, what with plain blue and white skin and flickering lights dancing over her body.
When the first body of water comes into view, she nearly misses it, so concerned with sneaking by without anyone noticing. But the scent of it captures her attention, and she pauses to assess it with dark, narrowed eyes. It’s too small though to house someone like Stillwater, and there’s no nearby cave either. So she continues on until she finds a much larger body of water that seems too big to be just a plain old pond.
Her pulse quickens a little, and she tosses her head lightly to free her eyes from the tendrils of dark forelock that fall over her face. On careful, quiet feet she walks closer to the water, pausing only for a single second and then slipping into the cold lake. Her breath catches in her chest at the sudden chill, but by the time she’s waded in up to her shoulders, the cold is already forgotten. She can see a distant cave across the way, a formation of rock that is nothing like she had imagined but still somehow exactly perfectly right. She definitely wants to explore it, look for any signs that her mom had ever been there, but it definitely comes second to the lake itself.
Gently, almost shy now with cautious, hopeful longing, she drops her nose to the surface, letting the water tickle at the whiskers on her chin. She knows even in this growing dark of dusk that she is easy to see in the lake, illuminated by the light that flickers ever-present over the swirls of blue and white against her skin. Still, so softly, closing her eyes and choosing instead to rely on her ears, “Are you here?” It’s just a whisper, but she hopes that when no one comes, she can blame it on her quiet instead of his absence.
But there are times when Luster shares stories, when she doesn’t have her heart locked down so firmly in her chest, and Dark can wheedle out moments of her mother's past, and of the friends and loves she had held dear to her. She supposes the story of how her parents met should be her favorite, but any mention of dad makes mom splinter further, so she’s learned to stop asking. Maybe someday dad will tell her if she asks.
But no, her favorite story is of the first time Luster met the man in the lake. Stillwater. There is a smile on her face even now as she hurries from Taiga to find the place where the trees are large and ancient, and the leaves look like every shade of a trapped sunset, of heatless fire. It isn’t hard to find, and once she does she creeps in quietly, those delicate blue ears swiveling softly to track and capture the nearest sounds. There is a smile on her face, soft and like starlight, a matching lightness in her pale brown eyes as she discovers a worn path that leads her inland.
She isn’t sure how far she’s meant to go before the lake will be near, but she guesses from the story that it is almost exactly at the heart of the territory. Tricky, if the leader is unfriendly, but hopefully whoever they are won’t take much offence at a bright-eyed girl chasing the ghosts of her mother's memories. To be fair, she isn’t particularly intimidating anyway, what with plain blue and white skin and flickering lights dancing over her body.
When the first body of water comes into view, she nearly misses it, so concerned with sneaking by without anyone noticing. But the scent of it captures her attention, and she pauses to assess it with dark, narrowed eyes. It’s too small though to house someone like Stillwater, and there’s no nearby cave either. So she continues on until she finds a much larger body of water that seems too big to be just a plain old pond.
Her pulse quickens a little, and she tosses her head lightly to free her eyes from the tendrils of dark forelock that fall over her face. On careful, quiet feet she walks closer to the water, pausing only for a single second and then slipping into the cold lake. Her breath catches in her chest at the sudden chill, but by the time she’s waded in up to her shoulders, the cold is already forgotten. She can see a distant cave across the way, a formation of rock that is nothing like she had imagined but still somehow exactly perfectly right. She definitely wants to explore it, look for any signs that her mom had ever been there, but it definitely comes second to the lake itself.
Gently, almost shy now with cautious, hopeful longing, she drops her nose to the surface, letting the water tickle at the whiskers on her chin. She knows even in this growing dark of dusk that she is easy to see in the lake, illuminated by the light that flickers ever-present over the swirls of blue and white against her skin. Still, so softly, closing her eyes and choosing instead to rely on her ears, “Are you here?” It’s just a whisper, but she hopes that when no one comes, she can blame it on her quiet instead of his absence.
The heaviness that I hold in my heart belongs to gravity.
Dovev x Luster
RE: god make me pay like the devil i am; dark - Maugrim - 10-03-2020
it was a blood-soaked feast
that never ceased
that never ceased
He hasn’t quite decided if he’d make the Sylvan lake his home once again. It had been years (decades?) since he had haunted the murky bottom, spending most of his time in the turbulent waters of the ocean; where the pressure would burst ear drums and he came face to face with the true absence of light. The sea is never ending, open and abysmal, where the freshwater of the dark lake reminds him much of a prison. It is water all the same, of course, and as algae floats to brush against him, he only decides that at least for the time being he would see what the forest holds for him. Besides, the way that the jade-colored shell glimmers in the dark and murky light, he finds himself aching to hold that power once again.
Maugrim’s shape is a barely translucent glimmer within the tea-colored water. Brooding catfish swim through him without a thought, their slick bodies weaving in between his nearly-invisible legs. A largemouth bass appears to be watching him with unseeing eyes, its lips slowly opening and closing. It’s in this moment that Maugrim has grown bored of the lake’s bottom, leaving the skeletons with a flurry of bubbles in his movement upwards (like a sudden current, strong and purposeful in an otherwise unmoving lake) that causes algae and muck to dislodge and float haphazardly in the wake of his body.
Dusk had settled into early evening when he begins his ascent, as he had expected (he spends most of his time within the water; it does not surprise him that hours have passed). He did not, however, expect the soft glimmering of white-light to be waiting there for him, just above the surface. The sight of it causes the drowned man to pause, his watery shape now set sparkling by those little twinkling lights. It is not the stars, he knows. But, perhaps, something just like that.
He continues his ascent upwards slowly now; methodical, thoughtful. He watches her before she even knows he exists, hidden beneath the shadows and murk of the water itself. He knows she is unsuspecting (they all are) and the idea of bringing her into the depths with him causes his heart to race. He had to be swift, like a crocodile moving towards its prey. Maugrim can feel every muscle contract as he propels himself upward, steady in his movements so as to not disturb the water’s surface and give away his presence.
Those large and hope-filled eyes stare into his without even knowing it.
The stallion is ready to wrap his hands around her neck and pull her in, giving her no freedom to move or even the grace of taking one final breath before falling under. Just as he is about to command the water to capture her, she speaks to him.
And instead of continuing with his original plan, he is quelled. Curious, even. He takes one pause and with a blink, allows himself to be seen by her - a trapped body beneath the surface, completely made of the water that surrounds him, yet with the soft and wavering outline that shows his face, ears, and floating mane. He’s almost beautiful in the way that those tiny spheres sink their light into his translucent body, his ever-flowing skin warping and twisting their color.
Are you here?
A hopeful whisper.
He would hate to disappoint her.
After a few bated moments of staying out of reach, he propels himself forward so that his translucent self emerges from the water. He remains liquified, the lake’s dark water swirling and churning to keep his shape, the sound of running water now the only sound surrounding them. He’s still below her, only emerged to where his chest had broken the surface, staring up at her with clear, murky eyes. Her lights reflect perfectly in his watery shape, a near mirror reflection of herself as well as the sunset-ignited trees that surround them.
“Of course I am.”
His voice is garbled and bubbly, haunting and dark.
Maugrim’s shape is a barely translucent glimmer within the tea-colored water. Brooding catfish swim through him without a thought, their slick bodies weaving in between his nearly-invisible legs. A largemouth bass appears to be watching him with unseeing eyes, its lips slowly opening and closing. It’s in this moment that Maugrim has grown bored of the lake’s bottom, leaving the skeletons with a flurry of bubbles in his movement upwards (like a sudden current, strong and purposeful in an otherwise unmoving lake) that causes algae and muck to dislodge and float haphazardly in the wake of his body.
Dusk had settled into early evening when he begins his ascent, as he had expected (he spends most of his time within the water; it does not surprise him that hours have passed). He did not, however, expect the soft glimmering of white-light to be waiting there for him, just above the surface. The sight of it causes the drowned man to pause, his watery shape now set sparkling by those little twinkling lights. It is not the stars, he knows. But, perhaps, something just like that.
He continues his ascent upwards slowly now; methodical, thoughtful. He watches her before she even knows he exists, hidden beneath the shadows and murk of the water itself. He knows she is unsuspecting (they all are) and the idea of bringing her into the depths with him causes his heart to race. He had to be swift, like a crocodile moving towards its prey. Maugrim can feel every muscle contract as he propels himself upward, steady in his movements so as to not disturb the water’s surface and give away his presence.
Those large and hope-filled eyes stare into his without even knowing it.
The stallion is ready to wrap his hands around her neck and pull her in, giving her no freedom to move or even the grace of taking one final breath before falling under. Just as he is about to command the water to capture her, she speaks to him.
And instead of continuing with his original plan, he is quelled. Curious, even. He takes one pause and with a blink, allows himself to be seen by her - a trapped body beneath the surface, completely made of the water that surrounds him, yet with the soft and wavering outline that shows his face, ears, and floating mane. He’s almost beautiful in the way that those tiny spheres sink their light into his translucent body, his ever-flowing skin warping and twisting their color.
Are you here?
A hopeful whisper.
He would hate to disappoint her.
After a few bated moments of staying out of reach, he propels himself forward so that his translucent self emerges from the water. He remains liquified, the lake’s dark water swirling and churning to keep his shape, the sound of running water now the only sound surrounding them. He’s still below her, only emerged to where his chest had broken the surface, staring up at her with clear, murky eyes. Her lights reflect perfectly in his watery shape, a near mirror reflection of herself as well as the sunset-ignited trees that surround them.
“Of course I am.”
His voice is garbled and bubbly, haunting and dark.
m a u g r i m.
@[dark]
RE: god make me pay like the devil i am; dark - dark - 10-30-2020
Dark
She spends many long moments staring at the surface of the water, each individual ripple drawing her attention, claiming her until the moment they fall back into stillness. She wonders how long she will wait, even as she already knows that she will wait until someone finds her and asks her to leave. There is a sense of stubbornness at this endeavor, a willfulness she cannot name the basis of - except, of course, that she can. If the man in the lake exists, then maybe her mother is not insane. Maybe the pain is only that, only surface and cosmetic, maybe it is not a corrosive kind of ruin rotting her from the inside out.
And truly she does not know which to believe.
So she waits until she has lost track of the time, though probably only moments have passed, and she counts the ripples that fall apart like broken wishes. Fourteen of them, until she realizes almost belatedly that for the last minute or so, her dark eyes have been laying on the shape of a man beneath the surface. It’s odd though, she thinks, because there is no man at all, just the watery impression of one, all soft and flowing where there should be edges. She very nearly dismisses it, deciding that her eyes are playing tired tricks on a hopeful heart until he emerges without warning, looking no less unreal.
Of course I am.
His voice does nothing to set her any more deeply into reality, and in fact she frowns at him, her brow furrowing as it knits tighter at the center. He sounds like a voice spoken underwater, as much bubbled air and gurgled water as it is any real sound. The effect is eerie, and though she quells the urge, her instinct is to step back and away from him. “This is very odd.” She decides, tipping her delicate face slightly to the side to scrutinize him - his voice and appearance, and the utter contrast he is to the stories Luster told. He is not beautiful, she thinks, if only because he is not flesh, not soft or warm in any way. If anything, he scares her.
She watches him for moments longer, working him over like a puzzle in her mind. Is she dreaming? Her eyes lift to the world around them again, but she finds nothing out of place, nothing odd besides him. Would she know though if it were strange, or would the dreamscape quiet her suspicions and tell her everything made sense? Probably that. But he could also be a ghost, maybe, drowned in his grave and refusing to move on. He certainly looked the part. Though, truly there was only one way to be sure, one way to resolve this. So she peers back down at him, her head still tipped and inquisitive, her delicate expression soft and silvered with her own flickering lights. “Are you Stillwater?”
And truly she does not know which to believe.
So she waits until she has lost track of the time, though probably only moments have passed, and she counts the ripples that fall apart like broken wishes. Fourteen of them, until she realizes almost belatedly that for the last minute or so, her dark eyes have been laying on the shape of a man beneath the surface. It’s odd though, she thinks, because there is no man at all, just the watery impression of one, all soft and flowing where there should be edges. She very nearly dismisses it, deciding that her eyes are playing tired tricks on a hopeful heart until he emerges without warning, looking no less unreal.
Of course I am.
His voice does nothing to set her any more deeply into reality, and in fact she frowns at him, her brow furrowing as it knits tighter at the center. He sounds like a voice spoken underwater, as much bubbled air and gurgled water as it is any real sound. The effect is eerie, and though she quells the urge, her instinct is to step back and away from him. “This is very odd.” She decides, tipping her delicate face slightly to the side to scrutinize him - his voice and appearance, and the utter contrast he is to the stories Luster told. He is not beautiful, she thinks, if only because he is not flesh, not soft or warm in any way. If anything, he scares her.
She watches him for moments longer, working him over like a puzzle in her mind. Is she dreaming? Her eyes lift to the world around them again, but she finds nothing out of place, nothing odd besides him. Would she know though if it were strange, or would the dreamscape quiet her suspicions and tell her everything made sense? Probably that. But he could also be a ghost, maybe, drowned in his grave and refusing to move on. He certainly looked the part. Though, truly there was only one way to be sure, one way to resolve this. So she peers back down at him, her head still tipped and inquisitive, her delicate expression soft and silvered with her own flickering lights. “Are you Stillwater?”
The heaviness that I hold in my heart belongs to gravity.
Dovev x Luster
RE: god make me pay like the devil i am; dark - Maugrim - 11-01-2020
it was a blood-soaked feast
that never ceased
that never ceased
Ah, there it is.
He watches her with hungry eyes as the soft look of disappointment falls across an otherwise pretty face. The gentle pink of her lips turn downward at him and though it is nearly impossible to see in such dim light and the darkness of the lakewater, Maugrim’s own mouth turns to match her exact expression. He is not taken aback by her reaction - he is rarely the one that they are expecting. Even so, he finds a twinge of sadness (so far beneath the shadows of his ever-darkening heart) that he, once again, is not the answer to their question.
No matter, he reminds himself with a curious tilt of his head so that he follows her own, with that same frown still plastered against his liquid mouth as he stares up at her. Perhaps he will become her answer.
“I would agree,” His voice is more solid sounding now, though nonetheless garbled. He becomes opaque in the blink of her eye, the deep evergreen patches of his body melting into the darkness of the now stilling lake while the lavender parts of him are vibrant and pearlescent beneath the surface, glimmering stunningly in her gently shining lights. She looks away from him (foolish girl), but he doesn’t act on it - not yet - even though the temptation is undeniable. He growls at her, demanding her attention: “Who stares into an abyss and expects an answer?”
He pauses, his eyes finding hers with a menacing click. “And then doesn’t like what it has to say?”
Maugrim spreads the water away from them, letting it ominously frame them both like a curtain. The water still dribbles down his legs and chest, pooling at his hooves where he still remains motionless before her.
“Maybe,” he offers her, unsure if being Stillwater would be beneficial to him or not. That is all he gives her, for the time being, while his tongue gently dampens his dark lips. “What happens to you if I’m not?” He lets the question die on his lips, allowing her own thoughts to fill in the possibilities.
Are you safe, if I’m not?
He watches her with hungry eyes as the soft look of disappointment falls across an otherwise pretty face. The gentle pink of her lips turn downward at him and though it is nearly impossible to see in such dim light and the darkness of the lakewater, Maugrim’s own mouth turns to match her exact expression. He is not taken aback by her reaction - he is rarely the one that they are expecting. Even so, he finds a twinge of sadness (so far beneath the shadows of his ever-darkening heart) that he, once again, is not the answer to their question.
No matter, he reminds himself with a curious tilt of his head so that he follows her own, with that same frown still plastered against his liquid mouth as he stares up at her. Perhaps he will become her answer.
“I would agree,” His voice is more solid sounding now, though nonetheless garbled. He becomes opaque in the blink of her eye, the deep evergreen patches of his body melting into the darkness of the now stilling lake while the lavender parts of him are vibrant and pearlescent beneath the surface, glimmering stunningly in her gently shining lights. She looks away from him (foolish girl), but he doesn’t act on it - not yet - even though the temptation is undeniable. He growls at her, demanding her attention: “Who stares into an abyss and expects an answer?”
He pauses, his eyes finding hers with a menacing click. “And then doesn’t like what it has to say?”
Maugrim spreads the water away from them, letting it ominously frame them both like a curtain. The water still dribbles down his legs and chest, pooling at his hooves where he still remains motionless before her.
“Maybe,” he offers her, unsure if being Stillwater would be beneficial to him or not. That is all he gives her, for the time being, while his tongue gently dampens his dark lips. “What happens to you if I’m not?” He lets the question die on his lips, allowing her own thoughts to fill in the possibilities.
Are you safe, if I’m not?
m a u g r i m.
@[dark]
RE: god make me pay like the devil i am; dark - dark - 01-01-2021
Dark
He follows her movements like a mirror, a drowned reflection that makes the hairs stand along her spine. She tilts her head and so does he, and the eeriness of it forces a stillness into her veins like thick ice. Still, the ice feels better than the fear that grips her belly and makes her wonder if she made a mistake in coming here, a mistake in staying. He feels like an omen, and she wonders what kind of a future he foretells.
But then he is solid, and it happens so fast that she feels dizzy, wonders if maybe she had imagined the water in the first place. The drowned ghost of him suddenly alive and well and sounding less like his lungs are full of dark water. She frowns though, and her delicate blue face is a painting of bewilderment and offense as she tries to decide if this man is mocking her. She tries to look away, but the growl draws her in again, his sharp eyes shackling her. “I do.” She says, and there is a frown on those impossible lips, a furrow in her brow that lends her a look of stubbornness as she stares back at him. “Should I have fawned instead?”
He is oddly beautiful though, and the patches of dark evergreen draped like forests over his back seem even richer a color in contrast to the shining opalescence of the paler places. She thinks if she were to dive into the lake behind him and find a shell at its darkest depths, that it would look very much like the man standing before her. “Are you a ghost?” She asks suddenly, taking a step back because that feeling of unease has returned again and she can feel fingers of ice creeping up along her spine. Her pulse quickens, her eyes darting past them to see if anyone else is nearby, but it’s just them.
He must have noticed, must not have liked her attention elsewhere because suddenly the water rises around them like a glittering tomb. She refocuses on him, and the light dancing across her skin intensifies, flickering like white flame instead of lazy lightning bugs. “Maybe.” She repeats, and her dark eyes narrow suspiciously, refusing to be anywhere but his predator face - not that there is anything else to see anymore. The curtain of water hides everything. “I think that question seems better suited to you, Maybe Stillwater.” There is dissonance in her tone though, half fear and half challenge, more stubborn than the delicate features of her blue marbled face give her credit for. “Though, to be entirely fair,” and she wonders if there is even the sliver of a chance that she sounds as bold as she is trying to imply, “I wasn’t entirely sure what would happen if you were him.”
But then he is solid, and it happens so fast that she feels dizzy, wonders if maybe she had imagined the water in the first place. The drowned ghost of him suddenly alive and well and sounding less like his lungs are full of dark water. She frowns though, and her delicate blue face is a painting of bewilderment and offense as she tries to decide if this man is mocking her. She tries to look away, but the growl draws her in again, his sharp eyes shackling her. “I do.” She says, and there is a frown on those impossible lips, a furrow in her brow that lends her a look of stubbornness as she stares back at him. “Should I have fawned instead?”
He is oddly beautiful though, and the patches of dark evergreen draped like forests over his back seem even richer a color in contrast to the shining opalescence of the paler places. She thinks if she were to dive into the lake behind him and find a shell at its darkest depths, that it would look very much like the man standing before her. “Are you a ghost?” She asks suddenly, taking a step back because that feeling of unease has returned again and she can feel fingers of ice creeping up along her spine. Her pulse quickens, her eyes darting past them to see if anyone else is nearby, but it’s just them.
He must have noticed, must not have liked her attention elsewhere because suddenly the water rises around them like a glittering tomb. She refocuses on him, and the light dancing across her skin intensifies, flickering like white flame instead of lazy lightning bugs. “Maybe.” She repeats, and her dark eyes narrow suspiciously, refusing to be anywhere but his predator face - not that there is anything else to see anymore. The curtain of water hides everything. “I think that question seems better suited to you, Maybe Stillwater.” There is dissonance in her tone though, half fear and half challenge, more stubborn than the delicate features of her blue marbled face give her credit for. “Though, to be entirely fair,” and she wonders if there is even the sliver of a chance that she sounds as bold as she is trying to imply, “I wasn’t entirely sure what would happen if you were him.”
The heaviness that I hold in my heart belongs to gravity.
Dovev x Luster
RE: god make me pay like the devil i am; dark - Maugrim - 01-10-2021
it was a blood-soaked feast
that never ceased
that never ceased
He watches her as she thinks, those gears in her head turning and churning and trying to understand just exactly who was before her in this moment. He likes to watch them try to piece it together and so he is patient as he stands before her, completely solid and dripping wet as the lakewater pools around his feet, still swirling around the both of them as he bends the water up and away.
Fawned. His expressionless face breaks at the word, a laugh garbling from his throat - perhaps she hadn’t meant to amuse him, but the idea of it still makes those light purple eyes dance. The laugh, however, isn’t comforting. It’s a laugh as though he has figured out her intentions and is ready to use it against her in the most diabolical way. “Perhaps you should have,” he suggests, his terrible eyes hungry. “Maybe fawning would make the abyss think twice about swallowing you whole.”
Are you a ghost? His mouth champs at the idea; perhaps she wants him to be one, because ghosts can only frighten - ghosts cannot touch, cannot maim, cannot torture. He smiles at her in a way that is meant to be reassuring, but he knows it is anything but. “You have so many questions,” he states matter of factly with a tiny shake of his head. Maugrim decides that he is nearly sick of all of her frowning, as if his presence is the exact opposite of what she had dreamed up; is he not glorious? Is he not spectacular, otherworldly?
The water around them continues to shield her from the outside world, but parts of it begin to slowly creep towards her, moving as slow as lava across the plains of Tephra. Her light reflects in the glittering water, more intense than it had been moments ago. He does not relent, for what will light do to stop him? It is terribly pretty, he must admit, and his eyes fall to the gentle white flickers of flame, nearly spellbound by the way they travel across her dark skin. The trek of the water towards her slows but does not stop its dedicated march.
What will she do, in the time it takes for the water to reach her? Does she know that the clock is ticking?
He smiles again and this time, it is somewhat pleasant on his face. “You are either very brave,” Maugrim tells her thoughtfully, his breath rattling as it comes in and out of his lungs, “or very, very foolish.” He pauses, bringing his eyes back to hers in a fiendish sort of way. “Neither bravery nor foolishness will change the way this ends, however, but the idea of you being brave is quite quaint.”
“If I am what you seek - and there still is no evidence that I certainly am, nor that I am not - what is it you want? There must have been some inkling as to what you would ask or do - something you hope would happen.”
Fawned. His expressionless face breaks at the word, a laugh garbling from his throat - perhaps she hadn’t meant to amuse him, but the idea of it still makes those light purple eyes dance. The laugh, however, isn’t comforting. It’s a laugh as though he has figured out her intentions and is ready to use it against her in the most diabolical way. “Perhaps you should have,” he suggests, his terrible eyes hungry. “Maybe fawning would make the abyss think twice about swallowing you whole.”
Are you a ghost? His mouth champs at the idea; perhaps she wants him to be one, because ghosts can only frighten - ghosts cannot touch, cannot maim, cannot torture. He smiles at her in a way that is meant to be reassuring, but he knows it is anything but. “You have so many questions,” he states matter of factly with a tiny shake of his head. Maugrim decides that he is nearly sick of all of her frowning, as if his presence is the exact opposite of what she had dreamed up; is he not glorious? Is he not spectacular, otherworldly?
The water around them continues to shield her from the outside world, but parts of it begin to slowly creep towards her, moving as slow as lava across the plains of Tephra. Her light reflects in the glittering water, more intense than it had been moments ago. He does not relent, for what will light do to stop him? It is terribly pretty, he must admit, and his eyes fall to the gentle white flickers of flame, nearly spellbound by the way they travel across her dark skin. The trek of the water towards her slows but does not stop its dedicated march.
What will she do, in the time it takes for the water to reach her? Does she know that the clock is ticking?
He smiles again and this time, it is somewhat pleasant on his face. “You are either very brave,” Maugrim tells her thoughtfully, his breath rattling as it comes in and out of his lungs, “or very, very foolish.” He pauses, bringing his eyes back to hers in a fiendish sort of way. “Neither bravery nor foolishness will change the way this ends, however, but the idea of you being brave is quite quaint.”
“If I am what you seek - and there still is no evidence that I certainly am, nor that I am not - what is it you want? There must have been some inkling as to what you would ask or do - something you hope would happen.”
m a u g r i m.
@[dark]
RE: god make me pay like the devil i am; dark - dark - 01-25-2021
Dark
He laughs, and though the sound is strange and suspicious and makes her feel like he knows the truth of secrets she cannot possibly even fathom, she finds the sound of it makes her smile. It is soft though, a subtle tug at the corners of an impossibly delicate mouth, and she ducks her head slightly to hide it from him, though she is not entirely sure why. Maybe it is the hunger in his eyes that gives her doubts. “And are you the abyss?” She wonders, perhaps too boldly considering she is almost entirely at the mercy of someone who can command water like this man can. “I hope you won’t be too disappointed to know that I have never been good at fawning. Perhaps you can show me how it’s done?”
Her eyes are shining when he speaks again, dark and vast as a midnight sky, though there is not a hint of blue to be found there. Just a brown so dark it might be black. Like her father. “You would have so many questions too, if you were to meet yourself for the first time.” A perfect mix of sincerity and flattery, and she takes a few curious steps closer to him. “I don’t even know if you’re real or not, or if you exist solely in my imagination.” She tips her head again, studying him as that same thoughtful frown slides over her delicate mouth.
Then the water moves again as though it is something alive - and she doesn’t doubt that, through him, it is. It swells like a tide and when she tears her eyes from him to watch it creep closer, she finds she is unsettled by it. Fear rises in her, quietly at first, but then thicker in her chest when he makes no effort to hold it back from her. Her skin swims with light, her armor wakening in full force, dancing across the blue of her mottled skin in spinning constellations. “Will you drown me then?” She wonders, and it feels suddenly too surreal to be as terrifying as it sounds. “I never learned how to swim, so I imagine it will be a rather easy thing for you to do.”
She closes the distance between them, moving further into the water rather than away, because she is not naive enough to think he would not simply take her from the shore again if she thought herself clever enough to outrun him. “I am almost certainly both.” She says, and there is no shame in her voice when she says so. She wants to touch him, see if he is solid and warm beneath her lips, or if he is little more than the way mist is when it hangs heavy over a pond. “I wanted to know him.” She says, and he voice is quieter now, soft with something suspiciously weary - a weight too heavy for her to carry alone. “Now though, I think I’d rather get to know you.”
She reaches for him, but only her breath touches his face, clouding sweet and warm and so gentle. “Unless you plan to drown me. Then I suppose I would like a swimming lesson first.” Light shines from the depths of those gloriously dark eyes.
Her eyes are shining when he speaks again, dark and vast as a midnight sky, though there is not a hint of blue to be found there. Just a brown so dark it might be black. Like her father. “You would have so many questions too, if you were to meet yourself for the first time.” A perfect mix of sincerity and flattery, and she takes a few curious steps closer to him. “I don’t even know if you’re real or not, or if you exist solely in my imagination.” She tips her head again, studying him as that same thoughtful frown slides over her delicate mouth.
Then the water moves again as though it is something alive - and she doesn’t doubt that, through him, it is. It swells like a tide and when she tears her eyes from him to watch it creep closer, she finds she is unsettled by it. Fear rises in her, quietly at first, but then thicker in her chest when he makes no effort to hold it back from her. Her skin swims with light, her armor wakening in full force, dancing across the blue of her mottled skin in spinning constellations. “Will you drown me then?” She wonders, and it feels suddenly too surreal to be as terrifying as it sounds. “I never learned how to swim, so I imagine it will be a rather easy thing for you to do.”
She closes the distance between them, moving further into the water rather than away, because she is not naive enough to think he would not simply take her from the shore again if she thought herself clever enough to outrun him. “I am almost certainly both.” She says, and there is no shame in her voice when she says so. She wants to touch him, see if he is solid and warm beneath her lips, or if he is little more than the way mist is when it hangs heavy over a pond. “I wanted to know him.” She says, and he voice is quieter now, soft with something suspiciously weary - a weight too heavy for her to carry alone. “Now though, I think I’d rather get to know you.”
She reaches for him, but only her breath touches his face, clouding sweet and warm and so gentle. “Unless you plan to drown me. Then I suppose I would like a swimming lesson first.” Light shines from the depths of those gloriously dark eyes.
The heaviness that I hold in my heart belongs to gravity.
Dovev x Luster
@[Maugrim]
RE: god make me pay like the devil i am; dark - Maugrim - 05-04-2021
it was a blood-soaked feast
that never ceased
that never ceased
Her frown breaks, a subtle pull of those pearlescent lips bathed in twilight and the stuttering of watery shadows that dance across them dangerously. She tries to keep it from him and she is nearly successful, but those calculating lavender eyes rarely miss the microexpressions he watches so studiously. Are you the abyss?
The.
Such a simple word, but one that causes him to pause thoughtfully, which in turn brings his watery shield around her to a smooth standstill. Not an abyss, the abyss. The smile that creeps along the damp cracks of his pale mouth is one that may remain in her mind for the rest of her life. “I am,” he confirms with such gravity in his voice that even the flow of the water around them begins to dwindle as if time itself has started to slow.
Maugrim meets her eyes and is nearly lost as he pierces his own gaze into those dark, bold irises. He has never been good at much of anything, he would never admit, save for his powerful hold over water and its undying loyalty, or the way that he draws innocent victims in unsuspecting moths to a flame. His lips twitch as she boldly comes closer (though does she have a choice, with the impending threat of water looming just near her?), something like relaxation appearing in his jawline as he tilts his head at her.
She frowns, peering up at him, considering him. He does nothing to hide the grimace that wrinkles his face unpleasantly, not too fond of being looked upon with such scrutiny. “I will do whatever I want,” comes his growling reply, the sparkling light of her armor now dancing in wavering reflections on the wall of water that now begins to move towards her once again. His heart races as fear grows in her expression, heat building in his chest. It’s beautiful, he thinks, the strange dance of light and water. “Though you are spectacularly skilled at prolonging the inevitable.”
His eyes are fierce and shining, turning grim when she mentions a him. The relaxation that once slackened his sharp jawline now grows taut, ears falling into the dampness of his dark mane that clings to the curve of his pearlescent neck. Her breath brushes his evergreen cheek, perfectly warm and inviting. Despite this, even this softest of gestures feels sharp and jagged, unfamiliar and foreign. “I will drown you,” he reminds her through the grinding of his teeth. The wall of water writhes hastily, shimmering and faltering as pieces of it fall to the ground, snaking towards her without hesitation, licking eagerly at the slender of her ankles.
He is angry, he knows, but he does not fully understand why.
“It would take me mere seconds.” The water crawls upwards and though its movement is sinister and terrible, there is a beauty in the way it traces the delicate bones of her legs. He wonders if he could break each one of her legs, but the idea remains only an idea as he steps closer, crowding her. “I won’t even give you a thought - not one - as I watch you die.” His voice is low and hissing, slipping through his teeth. He pauses and those abysmal eyes search hers thoroughly before adding: “Do not forget this.”
He releases her momentarily, slackening his water’s grip on her. He still hovers closely, not interested in letting his caged bird fly off into the night just yet. The stallion takes a single sweeping step back, his eyes still fixated hungrily on hers. “What do you think, then? Real or imaginary?” It’s not exactly the question he wants to ask, but he knows if he asks about him, he just may kill her sooner than he intends.
The.
Such a simple word, but one that causes him to pause thoughtfully, which in turn brings his watery shield around her to a smooth standstill. Not an abyss, the abyss. The smile that creeps along the damp cracks of his pale mouth is one that may remain in her mind for the rest of her life. “I am,” he confirms with such gravity in his voice that even the flow of the water around them begins to dwindle as if time itself has started to slow.
Maugrim meets her eyes and is nearly lost as he pierces his own gaze into those dark, bold irises. He has never been good at much of anything, he would never admit, save for his powerful hold over water and its undying loyalty, or the way that he draws innocent victims in unsuspecting moths to a flame. His lips twitch as she boldly comes closer (though does she have a choice, with the impending threat of water looming just near her?), something like relaxation appearing in his jawline as he tilts his head at her.
She frowns, peering up at him, considering him. He does nothing to hide the grimace that wrinkles his face unpleasantly, not too fond of being looked upon with such scrutiny. “I will do whatever I want,” comes his growling reply, the sparkling light of her armor now dancing in wavering reflections on the wall of water that now begins to move towards her once again. His heart races as fear grows in her expression, heat building in his chest. It’s beautiful, he thinks, the strange dance of light and water. “Though you are spectacularly skilled at prolonging the inevitable.”
His eyes are fierce and shining, turning grim when she mentions a him. The relaxation that once slackened his sharp jawline now grows taut, ears falling into the dampness of his dark mane that clings to the curve of his pearlescent neck. Her breath brushes his evergreen cheek, perfectly warm and inviting. Despite this, even this softest of gestures feels sharp and jagged, unfamiliar and foreign. “I will drown you,” he reminds her through the grinding of his teeth. The wall of water writhes hastily, shimmering and faltering as pieces of it fall to the ground, snaking towards her without hesitation, licking eagerly at the slender of her ankles.
He is angry, he knows, but he does not fully understand why.
“It would take me mere seconds.” The water crawls upwards and though its movement is sinister and terrible, there is a beauty in the way it traces the delicate bones of her legs. He wonders if he could break each one of her legs, but the idea remains only an idea as he steps closer, crowding her. “I won’t even give you a thought - not one - as I watch you die.” His voice is low and hissing, slipping through his teeth. He pauses and those abysmal eyes search hers thoroughly before adding: “Do not forget this.”
He releases her momentarily, slackening his water’s grip on her. He still hovers closely, not interested in letting his caged bird fly off into the night just yet. The stallion takes a single sweeping step back, his eyes still fixated hungrily on hers. “What do you think, then? Real or imaginary?” It’s not exactly the question he wants to ask, but he knows if he asks about him, he just may kill her sooner than he intends.
m a u g r i m.
@[dark]
RE: god make me pay like the devil i am; dark - dark - 05-27-2021
Dark
He smiles, or at least she thinks that’s what it is when his mouth twists and a curious gleam alights in his sharp gaze. But it isn’t something warm or beautiful, it is cool and calculating, entirely predatorial and it forces a shudder to race along the delicate blue curve of her spine even as she forces herself not to be the one to break their twining gazes.
He is a predator, but she does not have to be prey, does she?
The water had fallen eerily still, vacant as though all the life had been forced out of it. But now it moves again, reaching for the mottled blue and white of her delicate light-soaked body. She cannot help but to glance down at it, wondering for a few beats of her pounding heart if this male really will try to drown her. “And what is it you want to do?” She asks, though she feels entirely certain that if he knows the answer to that question yet, he is unlikely to share it with her. “I am skilled at a great many things.” She says, and despite the fear that feels like hands closing around her throat, those dark eyes flash with amusement.
But his reaction to being touched is perhaps the most confusing puzzle of all. She had not expected him to let her do it, had thought he would dodge the gesture or just as easily drown her beneath his feet. But he allows to make contact, and it leaves her eyes a shade softer, her mouth no longer amused. His teeth grind and he threatens her again, but she is curiously mesmerized by the way her touch had changed him.
He is furious, she thinks, and it makes her want to touch him again. To unravel the reason why. But she chooses obedience instead, tilting her delicate head at him in question as the water writhes and rises and winds itself around her pale ankles. She doesn’t try to fight it, doesn’t try to run. Is almost certain that she doesn’t want to run from him.
“Can you feel me?” She asks instead, reaching down to touch her lips to the water that climbs careful spirals over the slender bones of her legs. “Can you feel my legs? My lips?” The second question draws heat to her face as her gaze returns to his, wide and unsure and finally, finally unbalanced. “You would have every one of my thoughts.” She whispers, and she reaches her nose closer to him again, asking something she herself does not even understand. But she does not touch him, does not try. “Even my last.” Then, a smile, and it is soft and secret and her eyes dance again with something like delight as she tells him, “I promise I won’t.” How could she possibly forget any of this.
The water releases its grip on her, and her eyes drift over his face again as though there might be secrets she could mine from him like precious gems. He takes a step back and for a moment she wonders if this will be it. The moment he is finished will her, already bored, and a puzzle she will never know. But his eyes remain on her and the intensity of his gaze is something bright and burning and she wishes for no reason she can name, that he would reach out and touch her as she had touched him. “Real.” She says, and there is something like shy heat simmering in her searching gaze.
“And me? Am I imaginary?” She asks, and then like a bold fool she cloaks herself in the night, slipping into her shadow camouflage as though she has herself become the dark. When her armor disappears, she is entirely invisible. But she doesn’t leave, is so completely unfinished with him that it feels like an ache in her belly. Instead she asks him again, her voice so soft and delicate, “Can you still feel me here?” She reaches down to touch the water.
He is a predator, but she does not have to be prey, does she?
The water had fallen eerily still, vacant as though all the life had been forced out of it. But now it moves again, reaching for the mottled blue and white of her delicate light-soaked body. She cannot help but to glance down at it, wondering for a few beats of her pounding heart if this male really will try to drown her. “And what is it you want to do?” She asks, though she feels entirely certain that if he knows the answer to that question yet, he is unlikely to share it with her. “I am skilled at a great many things.” She says, and despite the fear that feels like hands closing around her throat, those dark eyes flash with amusement.
But his reaction to being touched is perhaps the most confusing puzzle of all. She had not expected him to let her do it, had thought he would dodge the gesture or just as easily drown her beneath his feet. But he allows to make contact, and it leaves her eyes a shade softer, her mouth no longer amused. His teeth grind and he threatens her again, but she is curiously mesmerized by the way her touch had changed him.
He is furious, she thinks, and it makes her want to touch him again. To unravel the reason why. But she chooses obedience instead, tilting her delicate head at him in question as the water writhes and rises and winds itself around her pale ankles. She doesn’t try to fight it, doesn’t try to run. Is almost certain that she doesn’t want to run from him.
“Can you feel me?” She asks instead, reaching down to touch her lips to the water that climbs careful spirals over the slender bones of her legs. “Can you feel my legs? My lips?” The second question draws heat to her face as her gaze returns to his, wide and unsure and finally, finally unbalanced. “You would have every one of my thoughts.” She whispers, and she reaches her nose closer to him again, asking something she herself does not even understand. But she does not touch him, does not try. “Even my last.” Then, a smile, and it is soft and secret and her eyes dance again with something like delight as she tells him, “I promise I won’t.” How could she possibly forget any of this.
The water releases its grip on her, and her eyes drift over his face again as though there might be secrets she could mine from him like precious gems. He takes a step back and for a moment she wonders if this will be it. The moment he is finished will her, already bored, and a puzzle she will never know. But his eyes remain on her and the intensity of his gaze is something bright and burning and she wishes for no reason she can name, that he would reach out and touch her as she had touched him. “Real.” She says, and there is something like shy heat simmering in her searching gaze.
“And me? Am I imaginary?” She asks, and then like a bold fool she cloaks herself in the night, slipping into her shadow camouflage as though she has herself become the dark. When her armor disappears, she is entirely invisible. But she doesn’t leave, is so completely unfinished with him that it feels like an ache in her belly. Instead she asks him again, her voice so soft and delicate, “Can you still feel me here?” She reaches down to touch the water.
The heaviness that I hold in my heart belongs to gravity.
Dovev x Luster
@[Maugrim]