05-08-2018, 07:53 PM
god make me pay
like the devil i am
like the devil i am
His artform is disrupted. The delicate way he brings himself closer to her, feeding off of her energy (whatever little is left), chipping away at her piece by piece, slowly making her realize she is only property now and no longer her own person - the dance is cut short, interrupted...and calmness in his voice and posture dies with it. She’s not able to answer him, and there’s no way he can bring them back to the particular moment they are in, and his displeasure with the clown’s interruption is evident in the way he balks, ears flattening against his neck while his head spins wildly over his shoulder, bared teeth (bloodied and yellowed) begging him to come closer and join his precious puppet so that he may become one, too.
His name is unraveled through the shadows, answering one of the woman’s questions that he hadn’t planned on giving her. His upper lip ripples in a snarl, his fiery gaze firmly set on the shadows which carry the clown king’s voice, his chest expanding with each heavy breath he is now inhaling as rage accumulates within him.
Pregnant.
For us.
Maugrim’s hunger has already been loosed on her, and it is hard to reel in the predator when he is already off his leash. The stallion turns his head towards her quickly, his dark eyes snapping into focus on the slight swell of her stomach, displeasure growling in his throat. Pregnant? He did not care. Maugrim only cared for blood, and now that his private little ritual had been interrupted, there is no more patience with his prisoner. He is swift as his mouth clamps down on her withers, anger seeping though each tender muscle of his jaw and throat as he applies as much pressure as he could to her skin. His frustrations would be taken out on her, wondering if there was some way he could rip the child in her uterus from her so that she may die.
The clown is long gone - forgotten on the shadows. He would do as the King commanded (he is but a machine, built for destruction), but there is no mistaking the haunting gleam in his eye that would hint at the death that soon awaits her. There are no words now, no gentle voice coming from her captor; only silence and the sound of his labored breathing (restraining himself, biting harder with each breath) as the water begins to stir again around her legs, coming to life with Maugrim’s very thoughts.
The child may be keeping her from death, but it will be him who she sees with her dying breath.
Slowly - painstakingly and terribly slow - the water begins to pull at her legs again. It will be a familiar feeling to her now, one that is foreboding and dismal as it wraps carefully and coldly around her, like a snake squeezing its prey. He still holds firmly to her with his teeth, blood from the bite flowing freely into his mouth and down her shoulders, staining the water red. He snorts as he tells the water to pull her deeper, walking with her while his mouth still clamped to her withers.
He cannot have death (not yet), so he will have the next best thing.
The predator mounts her without warning, his lust fueled by rage and his inability to kill her when he wished. The water dances around their bodies, wrinkling with blood and sweat, lapping at her shoulders and at his thighs. His mouth releases her withers with a twist of his neck and instead holds her behind her head. It is unnecessary (the water holds her in place, and she wouldn’t dare to escape now), but there is so much within him that begs for release, he does whatever he can to match the elation that killing gives him.
Even when he is finished, he is not satiated. He releases her into the water, throwing her away from him as the lake opens up to receive her. He stands chest deep in the lake, sides heaving and bloodied mouth open languishly. He stays above the surface as the water pulls her down into blackness, sick of her presence but not able to release her in the only way he knew how.
Maugrim pulls her back up, staring frightfully into her head that floats on the surface only because he allows it. “That parasite in your womb is the only thing keeping you from your death,” he hisses through clenched teeth, spittle flying from his mouth and across her face. His eyes roll madly, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he fights every part of him that tells him to kill. A wave, sudden and abnormal, beginning at his chest and then sweeping towards her, unforgivingly slams her against the shore and away from him.
He festers in the midst of the black waters, his anger palpable. Enough so that his body becomes invisible, translucent and completely made from the lake itself. He disappears beneath its surface - to the depths beyond. All is still, and the warmth of the cave's mouth gently coaxes her.
His name is unraveled through the shadows, answering one of the woman’s questions that he hadn’t planned on giving her. His upper lip ripples in a snarl, his fiery gaze firmly set on the shadows which carry the clown king’s voice, his chest expanding with each heavy breath he is now inhaling as rage accumulates within him.
Pregnant.
For us.
Maugrim’s hunger has already been loosed on her, and it is hard to reel in the predator when he is already off his leash. The stallion turns his head towards her quickly, his dark eyes snapping into focus on the slight swell of her stomach, displeasure growling in his throat. Pregnant? He did not care. Maugrim only cared for blood, and now that his private little ritual had been interrupted, there is no more patience with his prisoner. He is swift as his mouth clamps down on her withers, anger seeping though each tender muscle of his jaw and throat as he applies as much pressure as he could to her skin. His frustrations would be taken out on her, wondering if there was some way he could rip the child in her uterus from her so that she may die.
The clown is long gone - forgotten on the shadows. He would do as the King commanded (he is but a machine, built for destruction), but there is no mistaking the haunting gleam in his eye that would hint at the death that soon awaits her. There are no words now, no gentle voice coming from her captor; only silence and the sound of his labored breathing (restraining himself, biting harder with each breath) as the water begins to stir again around her legs, coming to life with Maugrim’s very thoughts.
The child may be keeping her from death, but it will be him who she sees with her dying breath.
Slowly - painstakingly and terribly slow - the water begins to pull at her legs again. It will be a familiar feeling to her now, one that is foreboding and dismal as it wraps carefully and coldly around her, like a snake squeezing its prey. He still holds firmly to her with his teeth, blood from the bite flowing freely into his mouth and down her shoulders, staining the water red. He snorts as he tells the water to pull her deeper, walking with her while his mouth still clamped to her withers.
He cannot have death (not yet), so he will have the next best thing.
The predator mounts her without warning, his lust fueled by rage and his inability to kill her when he wished. The water dances around their bodies, wrinkling with blood and sweat, lapping at her shoulders and at his thighs. His mouth releases her withers with a twist of his neck and instead holds her behind her head. It is unnecessary (the water holds her in place, and she wouldn’t dare to escape now), but there is so much within him that begs for release, he does whatever he can to match the elation that killing gives him.
Even when he is finished, he is not satiated. He releases her into the water, throwing her away from him as the lake opens up to receive her. He stands chest deep in the lake, sides heaving and bloodied mouth open languishly. He stays above the surface as the water pulls her down into blackness, sick of her presence but not able to release her in the only way he knew how.
Maugrim pulls her back up, staring frightfully into her head that floats on the surface only because he allows it. “That parasite in your womb is the only thing keeping you from your death,” he hisses through clenched teeth, spittle flying from his mouth and across her face. His eyes roll madly, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he fights every part of him that tells him to kill. A wave, sudden and abnormal, beginning at his chest and then sweeping towards her, unforgivingly slams her against the shore and away from him.
He festers in the midst of the black waters, his anger palpable. Enough so that his body becomes invisible, translucent and completely made from the lake itself. He disappears beneath its surface - to the depths beyond. All is still, and the warmth of the cave's mouth gently coaxes her.
m a u g r i m.
@[Krone] i figured krone could get a break (react, go into the cave, fall asleep on the shore, whatever!) and maugrim will come back to her in a few :3