06-26-2017, 10:57 AM
god make me pay,
like the devil i am
like the devil i am
She is bothersome. All those he comes into contact with normally are, but he merely lacks the social constraints that so many others were familiar with. He doesn’t understand why she’s shouting at him or why his little trick in the dark water causes her so much ferocity. He remembers her, but he doesn’t know to act like he does – there is supposed to be some type of reaction for nearly drowning an acquaintance, especially one who had just recently stood beside him as they tore Hyaline to shreds. He snorts. Hyaline was not a very satisfying endeavor for him; it only increased his hunger and implored him to seek out satisfaction – which he still hadn’t found. However, when her voice lowers to match the steely coldness of his own, when the emotions subside and he is met with darkness and a haunting, powerful stare, a twitch of a grin pulls at his pale lips. Her words echo soundly in his rotted mind, hovering and lingering there. If it lives, it can die. The words make his skin crawl.
Maugrim feels himself becoming gaunt as his muscle and tissue seemingly begin to disappear, melting into his organs and insides with a mere blink of an eye. The delicate skin on his face rips with the absence of muscle and tissue, revealing ivory bone in a repulsive, permanent grin. The pain is excruciating, so much so that words cannot leave his lips, not even a groan. Emaciated with boiling insides, she pulls him before her like a puppet, bones clicking sickeningly beneath his torn skin, a near corpse fallen before her.
With a gasp, he feels his liquefied lungs now fill with air as the rest of him begins to solidify, the smell of rotting flesh now only coming from the poisoned water that stands stagnant behind them. He slowly stands, the muscles and sinew still patching themselves together as he did so. The tear on his face was the last to stich itself together, the green and lavender meeting each other without nearly a sound. He glances downward, curiously looking at the shoulder that once held the gnarled and twisted scar from the sea scraping him against rocks and coral, that had been soldered by Levi – it was gone, no longer causing him a terrible limp with the tightness of muscle that had impacted it.
His dark eyes flicker up to her, his sides expanding as he continues to breathe in the crisp air around them, heavy with rotting stench. “I sought death,” he says metallically, his voice rough and deep compared to the ice of her own. He steps forward, his head tilting a few degrees. He is older now, growing – he was no longer the small yearling that wanders the open lands with no purpose. He is filling out, growing taller and more muscular from hours spent in the water, his mane and tail becoming longer and framing the sharp angles of his painted face. “I seem to have found it.”
He grins, pale lips pulling back to reveal teeth, muscles twitching as they still realize they are no longer melting off his bones. She could have easily killed him – but she didn’t. She is dark and foreboding, a bringer of death and pestilence, but there is – somewhere deep and barely noticeable – weakness. He would be her weakness if it meant being on the right side of her ability. He’s closer to her now, and what appears to be him absentmindedly brushing away some of the dried mud from her face, was his idea of testing his boundaries with her. He had already tried to drown her – were there really any boundaries he couldn’t cross? Perhaps she too, felt the edge of death, and is enamored by its power and strength, just like him.
He brings his head back to himself as she mentions family and a single brow rises in amusement. “Family,” he says roguishly with a deep chuckle that sounded like bone fragments being crushed. “Family means nothing.”
Power. Power means everything.
Maugrim feels himself becoming gaunt as his muscle and tissue seemingly begin to disappear, melting into his organs and insides with a mere blink of an eye. The delicate skin on his face rips with the absence of muscle and tissue, revealing ivory bone in a repulsive, permanent grin. The pain is excruciating, so much so that words cannot leave his lips, not even a groan. Emaciated with boiling insides, she pulls him before her like a puppet, bones clicking sickeningly beneath his torn skin, a near corpse fallen before her.
With a gasp, he feels his liquefied lungs now fill with air as the rest of him begins to solidify, the smell of rotting flesh now only coming from the poisoned water that stands stagnant behind them. He slowly stands, the muscles and sinew still patching themselves together as he did so. The tear on his face was the last to stich itself together, the green and lavender meeting each other without nearly a sound. He glances downward, curiously looking at the shoulder that once held the gnarled and twisted scar from the sea scraping him against rocks and coral, that had been soldered by Levi – it was gone, no longer causing him a terrible limp with the tightness of muscle that had impacted it.
His dark eyes flicker up to her, his sides expanding as he continues to breathe in the crisp air around them, heavy with rotting stench. “I sought death,” he says metallically, his voice rough and deep compared to the ice of her own. He steps forward, his head tilting a few degrees. He is older now, growing – he was no longer the small yearling that wanders the open lands with no purpose. He is filling out, growing taller and more muscular from hours spent in the water, his mane and tail becoming longer and framing the sharp angles of his painted face. “I seem to have found it.”
He grins, pale lips pulling back to reveal teeth, muscles twitching as they still realize they are no longer melting off his bones. She could have easily killed him – but she didn’t. She is dark and foreboding, a bringer of death and pestilence, but there is – somewhere deep and barely noticeable – weakness. He would be her weakness if it meant being on the right side of her ability. He’s closer to her now, and what appears to be him absentmindedly brushing away some of the dried mud from her face, was his idea of testing his boundaries with her. He had already tried to drown her – were there really any boundaries he couldn’t cross? Perhaps she too, felt the edge of death, and is enamored by its power and strength, just like him.
He brings his head back to himself as she mentions family and a single brow rises in amusement. “Family,” he says roguishly with a deep chuckle that sounded like bone fragments being crushed. “Family means nothing.”
Power. Power means everything.
m a u g r i m.
@[Deathwish]