jamie
01-10-2021, 05:46 PM
Jamie
It is easier to believe that she had ever owed him anything now.
And he follows her gaze to the headless figure, a tangle of bloodied limbs.
He wonders if he should feel something, some sense of finality, now that her debt has been repaid. She had promised him three souls and she had delivered them. Perhaps the crushing darkness and the dead that accompany it are the reward, this shift in the world the prize for paying off such a debt.
He cannot help the smile that itches across his peculiar, featureless face just to think it.
Beqanna has been shifted into its rightful order thanks to her and he feels such a terrible fondness for her then. Such a far cry from the crippled thing that had resisted her, fought her efforts to help him. He plainly asks for her help now and feels no creeping sensation of embarrassment for having asked it.
She is powerful. She will make him powerful.
He can do anything, he only has to think it, and he has no reason not to believe her. He moves closer to the headless figure, dips his strange head and presses his ink-black mouth against the shoulder. He sighs, relaxes into the magic, and lets the story come. He sees the dark thing and he feels the fear that had gripped the stallion in the last moments before his death.
He lifts his head then and turns those freakish yellow eyes on Beyza. “Did you see it?” he asks, “the thing that killed him.”
And he follows her gaze to the headless figure, a tangle of bloodied limbs.
He wonders if he should feel something, some sense of finality, now that her debt has been repaid. She had promised him three souls and she had delivered them. Perhaps the crushing darkness and the dead that accompany it are the reward, this shift in the world the prize for paying off such a debt.
He cannot help the smile that itches across his peculiar, featureless face just to think it.
Beqanna has been shifted into its rightful order thanks to her and he feels such a terrible fondness for her then. Such a far cry from the crippled thing that had resisted her, fought her efforts to help him. He plainly asks for her help now and feels no creeping sensation of embarrassment for having asked it.
She is powerful. She will make him powerful.
He can do anything, he only has to think it, and he has no reason not to believe her. He moves closer to the headless figure, dips his strange head and presses his ink-black mouth against the shoulder. He sighs, relaxes into the magic, and lets the story come. He sees the dark thing and he feels the fear that had gripped the stallion in the last moments before his death.
He lifts his head then and turns those freakish yellow eyes on Beyza. “Did you see it?” he asks, “the thing that killed him.”
( FROM THE DESTRUCTION, OUT OF THE FLAME
YOU NEED A VILLAIN, GIVE ME A NAME )
YOU NEED A VILLAIN, GIVE ME A NAME )
@[Beyza]