07-15-2017, 03:57 PM
god make me pay,
like the devil i am
like the devil i am
He doesn’t have a home, not in the typical sense of the word. No, his home is where the water takes him, whether its through its coursing rivers or its tempestuous seas, or even stagnant lakes with unmoving currents. That is where he belongs.
The river of Beqanna is where he is most likely to be found, wading in its depths beneath the hood of an eerie mist, practicing and perfecting his skillset. It is where he feels most comfortable; here he is strong, confident, and sure. He had even begun to try to coax the water from the roots of nearby plants and vegetation, but the process is long and tiring. It would take time to perfect, but if he could easily entice the water from the world around him, he would never feel weak or vulnerable ever again.
He finds himself here, after hours of painstakingly slow progress, at the river’s bank. He prefers the rougher parts of the river, where large rocks splice up from the rapid-like current, spraying everything around him with a fine mist. The sound of the river is loud and boisterous, a consistent rush of water crashing through the sharp twists and turns. He lowers his nose to the water, nostrils flaring hungrily as he inhales the familiar scent, the soft crooning from the voices below calling him back into their depths, much like a mermaid calling a sailor into her arms.
A hunger gleams in his eyes, a hunger that has still gone unquenched, unsatisfied. It lingers within the abyss of his darkened eyes, forever sparking beneath the blackness. Forever a predator, constantly ravenous for power and control, to succumb his prey beneath a watery grave. Small forest animals and birds only left him so much satisfaction; he craves a challenge, he craves a struggle. In his thoughts, he has let the tip of his muzzle become as clear and wavering as the water that surges beneath him, liquefying himself right past his nostrils. He is tired, worn out, but he could easily become part of the river and wait upstream where the waters are calmer and gentler, and wait for a passerby.
Something catches his attention within the darkening woods behind him, lifting his head quickly with a sharp snort and flicker of his ears onto his neck. He says nothing, but scours the darkness with a snarl on his pale lips.
The river of Beqanna is where he is most likely to be found, wading in its depths beneath the hood of an eerie mist, practicing and perfecting his skillset. It is where he feels most comfortable; here he is strong, confident, and sure. He had even begun to try to coax the water from the roots of nearby plants and vegetation, but the process is long and tiring. It would take time to perfect, but if he could easily entice the water from the world around him, he would never feel weak or vulnerable ever again.
He finds himself here, after hours of painstakingly slow progress, at the river’s bank. He prefers the rougher parts of the river, where large rocks splice up from the rapid-like current, spraying everything around him with a fine mist. The sound of the river is loud and boisterous, a consistent rush of water crashing through the sharp twists and turns. He lowers his nose to the water, nostrils flaring hungrily as he inhales the familiar scent, the soft crooning from the voices below calling him back into their depths, much like a mermaid calling a sailor into her arms.
A hunger gleams in his eyes, a hunger that has still gone unquenched, unsatisfied. It lingers within the abyss of his darkened eyes, forever sparking beneath the blackness. Forever a predator, constantly ravenous for power and control, to succumb his prey beneath a watery grave. Small forest animals and birds only left him so much satisfaction; he craves a challenge, he craves a struggle. In his thoughts, he has let the tip of his muzzle become as clear and wavering as the water that surges beneath him, liquefying himself right past his nostrils. He is tired, worn out, but he could easily become part of the river and wait upstream where the waters are calmer and gentler, and wait for a passerby.
Something catches his attention within the darkening woods behind him, lifting his head quickly with a sharp snort and flicker of his ears onto his neck. He says nothing, but scours the darkness with a snarl on his pale lips.
m a u g r i m.
@[Thana]
idk what this is :/