02-27-2017, 08:41 PM
Deathwish
im a DIY pioneer, they tryna get involved
Curious, she thinks. A curious little rock, wrinkled in nature. A peculiar shade of turquoise. She had been traversing her favorite quiet spot by the lake. It always seemed so alive. And yet, she had never seen a soul. Hazel eyes stared out over the glassy water, concentrated on the tree line that was on the opposite bank. Quiet, but alive.
As if something lurked beneath the depths…
And yet, as often as she found her solace here in the mud, she had never seen a rock wash up upon the shore like this. It was so odd looking.
She peered down at it once more. Covered in a slimy sheen of pond scum. She kicked it, and it rattled a little. A dead thing. She liked dead things.
Looking around, she checked her surroundings to make sure that nobody was looking, and delicately picked up that odd turquoise rock with her teeth, and gingerly set it behind a rock. Her treasure trove full of dead things. And yet, she could show no one. For who likes a girl who is so fascinated by death that she collects its remnants?
The water ripples slightly, making a lazy lapping noise, as a lover caressing his partner’s skin. More than a child, and not yet a woman, Deathwish knows little of intimacy. Her mother’s ability to conjure death to whatever suited her whims had lain with her daughter, and her father’s ability with everything made her a bit odd to the other children; growing up alone with her odd quirks suited her just fine.
What she did not yet know was that she was a stunning beauty of lavender grey and deep hazel eyes, slim and muscular, with purple and silver threads woven into her hair. Athletic build, and tall, she would one day learn to command the dead things as well as she could command their hearts—with little more than a flick of her tail.
A coy little smirk rested upon her lips as she peered once again at her collection. Dead things.
I like dead things.
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