05-12-2020, 04:11 PM
Drowned.
Drowned in darkness, drowned in emptiness; it’s all he knows.
He only wishes to share the heavy feeling, the way the water presses so tightly against his skin that it leaves him quite literally breathless; the way the eyesight turns dark around the edges until it is all he sees.
Of course, Maugrim has the ability to survive such a feeling. Those he comes across - not so much.
Sometimes, when he is not floating idly at the deepest pit of the ocean, he follows the deltas with their freshwater feeds, entering into the rivers and feasting on the hapless saps that wander above the water. He remains motionless and unseen beneath the wildly bubbling river, his essence locked in place by his power and his need to satiate his uncontrollable urge to bring anything down to his level.
Though unseen, his watery face scowls at the one who stands over him now. It is hard to forget such a voice, and though it is not wearing the same skin he remembers, its wild antics and specific cat-calling are enough to cause the watery beast to emerge.
Feeling slightly unnerved with being in his own solid body, the poseidon grasps at the cold flowing river with barely a thought, bringing droplets into the pearled ivory and deep green of his patched flesh, unused to the dryness of the outside landscape. It keeps him damp, water still trickling gently from the tangled tendrils of his mane, dripping down his neck and muscled shoulders as if he is still beneath its current, to where it began to pool and turn the dirt beneath his hooves into mud. Her voice commands a soft twitch of his ears towards her, keeping his attention, but he barely hears her. His bottomless eyes still scour where they wish, taking in the predator with a calmness that only comes with knowing he could not be harmed.
The mud squelches beneath his weighted movement, shifting towards her ever so slightly.
He’s already imagining her watery demise, for that is all he ever thinks about, a beautiful grave that he would create just for her.
Maugrim’s lips pressed together thoughtfully, nearly expressionless, before he decides a smile here would do quite nicely. His mouth curls into that fanciful grin - almost handsomely so, if the dried skin of his lips didn’t crack with the movement. Unphased, he runs his tongue across the deep rivets on his mouth, moistening them. “The water has no language you could speak, kitty.
@[Jackel]
Drowned in darkness, drowned in emptiness; it’s all he knows.
He only wishes to share the heavy feeling, the way the water presses so tightly against his skin that it leaves him quite literally breathless; the way the eyesight turns dark around the edges until it is all he sees.
Of course, Maugrim has the ability to survive such a feeling. Those he comes across - not so much.
Sometimes, when he is not floating idly at the deepest pit of the ocean, he follows the deltas with their freshwater feeds, entering into the rivers and feasting on the hapless saps that wander above the water. He remains motionless and unseen beneath the wildly bubbling river, his essence locked in place by his power and his need to satiate his uncontrollable urge to bring anything down to his level.
Though unseen, his watery face scowls at the one who stands over him now. It is hard to forget such a voice, and though it is not wearing the same skin he remembers, its wild antics and specific cat-calling are enough to cause the watery beast to emerge.
Feeling slightly unnerved with being in his own solid body, the poseidon grasps at the cold flowing river with barely a thought, bringing droplets into the pearled ivory and deep green of his patched flesh, unused to the dryness of the outside landscape. It keeps him damp, water still trickling gently from the tangled tendrils of his mane, dripping down his neck and muscled shoulders as if he is still beneath its current, to where it began to pool and turn the dirt beneath his hooves into mud. Her voice commands a soft twitch of his ears towards her, keeping his attention, but he barely hears her. His bottomless eyes still scour where they wish, taking in the predator with a calmness that only comes with knowing he could not be harmed.
The mud squelches beneath his weighted movement, shifting towards her ever so slightly.
He’s already imagining her watery demise, for that is all he ever thinks about, a beautiful grave that he would create just for her.
Maugrim’s lips pressed together thoughtfully, nearly expressionless, before he decides a smile here would do quite nicely. His mouth curls into that fanciful grin - almost handsomely so, if the dried skin of his lips didn’t crack with the movement. Unphased, he runs his tongue across the deep rivets on his mouth, moistening them. “The water has no language you could speak, kitty.
@[Jackel]