01-10-2021, 02:08 PM
it was a blood-soaked feast
that never ceased
that never ceased
He watches her as she thinks, those gears in her head turning and churning and trying to understand just exactly who was before her in this moment. He likes to watch them try to piece it together and so he is patient as he stands before her, completely solid and dripping wet as the lakewater pools around his feet, still swirling around the both of them as he bends the water up and away.
Fawned. His expressionless face breaks at the word, a laugh garbling from his throat - perhaps she hadn’t meant to amuse him, but the idea of it still makes those light purple eyes dance. The laugh, however, isn’t comforting. It’s a laugh as though he has figured out her intentions and is ready to use it against her in the most diabolical way. “Perhaps you should have,” he suggests, his terrible eyes hungry. “Maybe fawning would make the abyss think twice about swallowing you whole.”
Are you a ghost? His mouth champs at the idea; perhaps she wants him to be one, because ghosts can only frighten - ghosts cannot touch, cannot maim, cannot torture. He smiles at her in a way that is meant to be reassuring, but he knows it is anything but. “You have so many questions,” he states matter of factly with a tiny shake of his head. Maugrim decides that he is nearly sick of all of her frowning, as if his presence is the exact opposite of what she had dreamed up; is he not glorious? Is he not spectacular, otherworldly?
The water around them continues to shield her from the outside world, but parts of it begin to slowly creep towards her, moving as slow as lava across the plains of Tephra. Her light reflects in the glittering water, more intense than it had been moments ago. He does not relent, for what will light do to stop him? It is terribly pretty, he must admit, and his eyes fall to the gentle white flickers of flame, nearly spellbound by the way they travel across her dark skin. The trek of the water towards her slows but does not stop its dedicated march.
What will she do, in the time it takes for the water to reach her? Does she know that the clock is ticking?
He smiles again and this time, it is somewhat pleasant on his face. “You are either very brave,” Maugrim tells her thoughtfully, his breath rattling as it comes in and out of his lungs, “or very, very foolish.” He pauses, bringing his eyes back to hers in a fiendish sort of way. “Neither bravery nor foolishness will change the way this ends, however, but the idea of you being brave is quite quaint.”
“If I am what you seek - and there still is no evidence that I certainly am, nor that I am not - what is it you want? There must have been some inkling as to what you would ask or do - something you hope would happen.”
Fawned. His expressionless face breaks at the word, a laugh garbling from his throat - perhaps she hadn’t meant to amuse him, but the idea of it still makes those light purple eyes dance. The laugh, however, isn’t comforting. It’s a laugh as though he has figured out her intentions and is ready to use it against her in the most diabolical way. “Perhaps you should have,” he suggests, his terrible eyes hungry. “Maybe fawning would make the abyss think twice about swallowing you whole.”
Are you a ghost? His mouth champs at the idea; perhaps she wants him to be one, because ghosts can only frighten - ghosts cannot touch, cannot maim, cannot torture. He smiles at her in a way that is meant to be reassuring, but he knows it is anything but. “You have so many questions,” he states matter of factly with a tiny shake of his head. Maugrim decides that he is nearly sick of all of her frowning, as if his presence is the exact opposite of what she had dreamed up; is he not glorious? Is he not spectacular, otherworldly?
The water around them continues to shield her from the outside world, but parts of it begin to slowly creep towards her, moving as slow as lava across the plains of Tephra. Her light reflects in the glittering water, more intense than it had been moments ago. He does not relent, for what will light do to stop him? It is terribly pretty, he must admit, and his eyes fall to the gentle white flickers of flame, nearly spellbound by the way they travel across her dark skin. The trek of the water towards her slows but does not stop its dedicated march.
What will she do, in the time it takes for the water to reach her? Does she know that the clock is ticking?
He smiles again and this time, it is somewhat pleasant on his face. “You are either very brave,” Maugrim tells her thoughtfully, his breath rattling as it comes in and out of his lungs, “or very, very foolish.” He pauses, bringing his eyes back to hers in a fiendish sort of way. “Neither bravery nor foolishness will change the way this ends, however, but the idea of you being brave is quite quaint.”
“If I am what you seek - and there still is no evidence that I certainly am, nor that I am not - what is it you want? There must have been some inkling as to what you would ask or do - something you hope would happen.”
m a u g r i m.
@[dark]