03-06-2018, 07:42 PM
god make me pay
like the devil i am
like the devil i am
It is a lovely scene.
A mother and a daughter at the water’s edge, with gentle murmurings between the two and soft, tender touches.
A fine, lazy mist cloaks him from view, hanging low and hovering across gently bubbling waves that splash over smooth rock and algae-covered stone. Despite the frigid temperatures, the water remains fluid and flowing from its naturally fast-coursing current, and the evergreen trees are just as their namesake calls them, lightly dusted with snow and melting ice.
Something lurks in the shadows just across the fast moving river - something monstrous and diabolical, feeding off the sweet moment between mother and daughter. He cannot hear them, but the sound of their warm voices on the winter’s wind is enough to draw the predator in.
Maugrim watches them for a moment, his dark eyes curious for once - as if trying to recall a memory that is attempting to be remembered, but it is hazy in his mind, as if it is someone else’s memory entirely. He can remember his own mother, but he cannot remember if she had brushed his pale forelock away from the darkness of his face, or whispered wise and comforting words to him.
He remembers her, but the fact that he remembers nothing else but a blurred face does not bother him.
It is funny that they have found themselves here at the water’s edge. Do they both really think it’s safe here in these riverlands? Haven’t they heard of a monster that roams the depths, that controls the currents, that lives for destruction and death?
If not, they will now.
A surge of water - icy cold and biting - surges forward. He does not take them both (not yet), but aims for the mother instead. The water purposefully wraps around her knees, hungry and licking at her dark and ivory skin, following its orders from the master on the other side of the river. Mud rushes to meet her legs where the water meets the dirt of the bank, and it appears as if the water is a beast the way it pulls her into the current, gurgling and surging in its strength that he gives it. He is still hidden beneath shadow and rock and mist, but his eyes do not waver as the scene he creates unfolds before him. In a breath she is beneath the water, angry and spurting grey waves closing over her head as he pulls her into the deeper parts, where the pebbled bottom is out of reach of her legs in case she tries to stand. The current naturally begins to take her and the puppeteer makes sure that her head pops up every so often so that the bay painted woman on the shore could see her. He allows her to float downstream, and from the other side of the river he begins to move with black and white mare, his dark eyes peering through darkness in his concentration.
Normally, her head would have gone beneath the waves and Maugrim would have the deed done in a matter of seconds. However, the fact that he came across two instead of one - well, a dear friend of his taught him that perhaps it is a better thing to let everything draw itself, instead of rushing through. Instead, he murmurs a growl of delight to himself as he realizes he is quickly pushing the already drowning mare closer to the raging rapids around the bend.
He wonders if the daughter would jump in now to save her (how utterly delightful), or if merely watching her die from the shoreline will leave her frozen.
A mother and a daughter at the water’s edge, with gentle murmurings between the two and soft, tender touches.
A fine, lazy mist cloaks him from view, hanging low and hovering across gently bubbling waves that splash over smooth rock and algae-covered stone. Despite the frigid temperatures, the water remains fluid and flowing from its naturally fast-coursing current, and the evergreen trees are just as their namesake calls them, lightly dusted with snow and melting ice.
Something lurks in the shadows just across the fast moving river - something monstrous and diabolical, feeding off the sweet moment between mother and daughter. He cannot hear them, but the sound of their warm voices on the winter’s wind is enough to draw the predator in.
Maugrim watches them for a moment, his dark eyes curious for once - as if trying to recall a memory that is attempting to be remembered, but it is hazy in his mind, as if it is someone else’s memory entirely. He can remember his own mother, but he cannot remember if she had brushed his pale forelock away from the darkness of his face, or whispered wise and comforting words to him.
He remembers her, but the fact that he remembers nothing else but a blurred face does not bother him.
It is funny that they have found themselves here at the water’s edge. Do they both really think it’s safe here in these riverlands? Haven’t they heard of a monster that roams the depths, that controls the currents, that lives for destruction and death?
If not, they will now.
A surge of water - icy cold and biting - surges forward. He does not take them both (not yet), but aims for the mother instead. The water purposefully wraps around her knees, hungry and licking at her dark and ivory skin, following its orders from the master on the other side of the river. Mud rushes to meet her legs where the water meets the dirt of the bank, and it appears as if the water is a beast the way it pulls her into the current, gurgling and surging in its strength that he gives it. He is still hidden beneath shadow and rock and mist, but his eyes do not waver as the scene he creates unfolds before him. In a breath she is beneath the water, angry and spurting grey waves closing over her head as he pulls her into the deeper parts, where the pebbled bottom is out of reach of her legs in case she tries to stand. The current naturally begins to take her and the puppeteer makes sure that her head pops up every so often so that the bay painted woman on the shore could see her. He allows her to float downstream, and from the other side of the river he begins to move with black and white mare, his dark eyes peering through darkness in his concentration.
Normally, her head would have gone beneath the waves and Maugrim would have the deed done in a matter of seconds. However, the fact that he came across two instead of one - well, a dear friend of his taught him that perhaps it is a better thing to let everything draw itself, instead of rushing through. Instead, he murmurs a growl of delight to himself as he realizes he is quickly pushing the already drowning mare closer to the raging rapids around the bend.
He wonders if the daughter would jump in now to save her (how utterly delightful), or if merely watching her die from the shoreline will leave her frozen.
m a u g r i m.
Yay! <3
So either Raelle can jump in and get some bruises herself (or a near-death experience
), orrrr she can just watch and be left with severe emotional trauma. :3Maugrim plans to reveal himself once he finishes with Wrenn. XD