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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    god make me pay like the devil i am; dark
    #5
    it was a blood-soaked feast
    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?
    m a u g r i m.



    @[dark]
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    RE: god make me pay like the devil i am; dark - by Maugrim - 11-01-2020, 08:52 PM



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