CrownS
He has often wondered what sorts of things lurk in the dark. Something down in his core reaches out every time something goes bump in the night, and this time is no different. He is fascinated by the awful things looming around Eight’s mind but he doesn’t know how to put the interest to words. Instead, he remains content to simply observe. He is a great deal more patient than his predecessors.
He is thrilled when Eight says that he, too, loves the eerie things of this world. Sabbath had often tried to discourage him from the dark with tales of monsters and ghouls. It had all only served to deepen his curiosity, to hollow out more room for his wonderment to expand until it conquered him. Crowns feels his heart race when Eight invents the eyes that peer infinitely back at them. He is afraid, but he chews the fear for a while without stepping back from it. Some day he will stop dancing along the edge and dive into the ink-black terror instead.
But for today he lingers here beside his new companion. He looks back when the question is asked. He could be terrifying too? His head tilts as he considers the words but he can’t imagine himself being so great and ominous.
“You think so?” he asks as he watches Eight lean in close. He gasps gently in surprise when he feels the scales reveal themselves. They spread down his face, along his throat and over his back until it’s clear that he is his mother’s child. The deep ocean blue of his eyes is consumed by a wild green that demands to be seen. Curiously, he touches his tongue to his fangs and finds venom drips from them now.
“Am I scary now, Eight?” he asks hopefully as he playfully nips at those midnight wings he admires so much. Crowns is careful, though, and he makes sure his fangs don’t prick the delicate skin beneath Eight’s feathers. He laughs, ecstatic to be so fearsome as the woman who bared her teeth and yowled whenever someone approached him. He could see how someone might cower from her and he wonders if they would shy from him as well.
He blinks, and he finds himself now keenly aware of the outline of Eight’s warmth. They stand before a backdrop of the humid greens and yellows of the jungle around them. Crowns hums softly in thought before touching his nose to the magician’s shoulder.
“Red means.. warm?” he asks, as he assumes the other can see these things as well.
He is thrilled when Eight says that he, too, loves the eerie things of this world. Sabbath had often tried to discourage him from the dark with tales of monsters and ghouls. It had all only served to deepen his curiosity, to hollow out more room for his wonderment to expand until it conquered him. Crowns feels his heart race when Eight invents the eyes that peer infinitely back at them. He is afraid, but he chews the fear for a while without stepping back from it. Some day he will stop dancing along the edge and dive into the ink-black terror instead.
But for today he lingers here beside his new companion. He looks back when the question is asked. He could be terrifying too? His head tilts as he considers the words but he can’t imagine himself being so great and ominous.
“You think so?” he asks as he watches Eight lean in close. He gasps gently in surprise when he feels the scales reveal themselves. They spread down his face, along his throat and over his back until it’s clear that he is his mother’s child. The deep ocean blue of his eyes is consumed by a wild green that demands to be seen. Curiously, he touches his tongue to his fangs and finds venom drips from them now.
“Am I scary now, Eight?” he asks hopefully as he playfully nips at those midnight wings he admires so much. Crowns is careful, though, and he makes sure his fangs don’t prick the delicate skin beneath Eight’s feathers. He laughs, ecstatic to be so fearsome as the woman who bared her teeth and yowled whenever someone approached him. He could see how someone might cower from her and he wonders if they would shy from him as well.
He blinks, and he finds himself now keenly aware of the outline of Eight’s warmth. They stand before a backdrop of the humid greens and yellows of the jungle around them. Crowns hums softly in thought before touching his nose to the magician’s shoulder.
“Red means.. warm?” he asks, as he assumes the other can see these things as well.