[private] hand in unlovable hand; ripley

[Carnage]

lord, I fashion dark gods too;

He has always liked strange things.
As centuries drip through his fingertips in their wet-sand way, it becomes ever more difficult to find even a speck of entertainment. Fortunately, he is a creative god, and one with multitudes before him, but boredom finds even him. And so he returns to Beqanna, wanders its meadows and forests and fields, looking for those with anything to offer. It doesn’t have to be much – he doesn’t expect it to be – but something, anything, that suggest this experience could be different, could provide entertainment.
And so he sees the alien, its strange armored body and carnivore stink, and he decides that might do quite nicely.
He knows Ripley – not well, really only in the biblical sense – and so he smiles, shifts his body into a mimicry of the alien form. It’s a strange skin to be in, but he takes to it easily, as he does all monsters.

He moves forward, knifed tail switching against his narrow flanks, and lets out a cry to get Ripley’s attention. The noise isn’t quite right – too shrill – and so he adjusts the vocal cords, fixes them so he can speak more easily as himself.
But he doesn’t speak, only waits to see if she will answer his initial cry.

c a r n a g e

@Ripley