07-03-2017, 08:55 AM
god make me pay,
like the devil i am
like the devil i am
She is wary of him, a little bit frightened by his display of anger, because of course she is. She would be daft if she wasn’t. Even a child who has never seen a snake before would know to be cautious at the sight of a hungry and angrily coiled serpent in their path.
The look she gives him is all too familiar to the green and lavender stallion, the look that fuels his drive for fear and power. Oh, are you frightened? I’ll give you something to be frightened about. The only thing keeping him from tearing into the supple, pearlescent sheen of her skin is the fact that she is mildly interesting to him. As he’s grown, he’s learned to control the rage that boils within him, only allowing it to simmer within him instead of exploding; it was better that way, to appear mild and meek, then striking. All the techniques of a predator. For now, she won’t realize how lucky she is to have met him after his first stroll on the beach nearly a year ago.
He smiles at her, a genuine pull of his pale lips across his face, and it even reaches the darkness of his eyes in almost a kind way. He’s standing now, unraveling his slender and muscular legs beneath him. He’s a bit older than her (not by much), but his masculinity shows as he stands a few inches taller than her.
Oh, but his name gives him away.
Maugrim. What a devastatingly terrifying word to leave his lips. It means nothing, but the vowels and consonants string together so hauntingly, as if his own name is a warning label to all who meet him. Perhaps it sends a shiver down the spine, or causes the skin to prick uneasily. He’s sure the reaction they express wasn’t his mother’s purpose when they hear his name, but he has seen all too often the tightening of muscles beneath flesh, a small narrowing of the eyes in thought.
She’s apologizing, her soft voice like sea glass clinking beneath the soft lapping of ocean waves. It’s absolutely mesmerizing and delicious, the voice of women. As he begins to mature, he cannot be helped but drawn to their tinkling, gentle voices. He licks his lips casually, tasting the dried salt that still lingers on his skin. He wonders if her skin would taste like the sea, crisp and briny against his tongue.
“Kylin,” he repeats, his voice rumbling and thoughtful, letting her name slip from his mouth delectably. Unlike his own, her name ellicits a different reaction: he rolls his sloping shoulders gently, tossing his head as a delightful shiver creeps upon him.
“I believe I do,” he says to her, his dark eyes shifting to find her wide, uncertain gaze. She is so polite. Her body language is uncomfortable and stiff, yet she remains here beside him while all of her instincts are telling her to leave. He’s enjoying watching her internal struggle, torn between being rude and walking away, or staying and playing nice like her daddy would want her to do. “I’ve met Reilly, though I haven’t seen him since my arrival here. Also, the one that looks like you,” A pause, to thrust his chin towards her as the word ‘you’ leaves him, “he’s got the wings though.” And definitely isn’t as nice as you, he doesn’t add, wondering if the comment would only heighten her uncertainty and cause her to leave him.
The sound of the gently lapping water against the shore causes him to turn a single ear towards the beach, and slowly his eyes follow. It calls to him, distracting him as it always does, crooning to him to come back to her, to bring the girl with him, to fall beneath the waves. He snorts softly. “Your home is lovely,” he admits, his normally rough tones dissipating for a moment and replaced with a soft, dreamlike voice – a genuine, admiring confession.
The look she gives him is all too familiar to the green and lavender stallion, the look that fuels his drive for fear and power. Oh, are you frightened? I’ll give you something to be frightened about. The only thing keeping him from tearing into the supple, pearlescent sheen of her skin is the fact that she is mildly interesting to him. As he’s grown, he’s learned to control the rage that boils within him, only allowing it to simmer within him instead of exploding; it was better that way, to appear mild and meek, then striking. All the techniques of a predator. For now, she won’t realize how lucky she is to have met him after his first stroll on the beach nearly a year ago.
He smiles at her, a genuine pull of his pale lips across his face, and it even reaches the darkness of his eyes in almost a kind way. He’s standing now, unraveling his slender and muscular legs beneath him. He’s a bit older than her (not by much), but his masculinity shows as he stands a few inches taller than her.
Oh, but his name gives him away.
Maugrim. What a devastatingly terrifying word to leave his lips. It means nothing, but the vowels and consonants string together so hauntingly, as if his own name is a warning label to all who meet him. Perhaps it sends a shiver down the spine, or causes the skin to prick uneasily. He’s sure the reaction they express wasn’t his mother’s purpose when they hear his name, but he has seen all too often the tightening of muscles beneath flesh, a small narrowing of the eyes in thought.
She’s apologizing, her soft voice like sea glass clinking beneath the soft lapping of ocean waves. It’s absolutely mesmerizing and delicious, the voice of women. As he begins to mature, he cannot be helped but drawn to their tinkling, gentle voices. He licks his lips casually, tasting the dried salt that still lingers on his skin. He wonders if her skin would taste like the sea, crisp and briny against his tongue.
“Kylin,” he repeats, his voice rumbling and thoughtful, letting her name slip from his mouth delectably. Unlike his own, her name ellicits a different reaction: he rolls his sloping shoulders gently, tossing his head as a delightful shiver creeps upon him.
“I believe I do,” he says to her, his dark eyes shifting to find her wide, uncertain gaze. She is so polite. Her body language is uncomfortable and stiff, yet she remains here beside him while all of her instincts are telling her to leave. He’s enjoying watching her internal struggle, torn between being rude and walking away, or staying and playing nice like her daddy would want her to do. “I’ve met Reilly, though I haven’t seen him since my arrival here. Also, the one that looks like you,” A pause, to thrust his chin towards her as the word ‘you’ leaves him, “he’s got the wings though.” And definitely isn’t as nice as you, he doesn’t add, wondering if the comment would only heighten her uncertainty and cause her to leave him.
The sound of the gently lapping water against the shore causes him to turn a single ear towards the beach, and slowly his eyes follow. It calls to him, distracting him as it always does, crooning to him to come back to her, to bring the girl with him, to fall beneath the waves. He snorts softly. “Your home is lovely,” he admits, his normally rough tones dissipating for a moment and replaced with a soft, dreamlike voice – a genuine, admiring confession.
m a u g r i m.
@[Kylin]