10-03-2020, 11:34 AM
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]