05-17-2018, 05:48 AM
god make me pay
like the devil i am
like the devil i am
She stares at him idly, no trace of fear or concern in her cold eyes. Maugrim snorts, pale lips crinkling into a snarl; she should be afraid, but no matter - he will get her there eventually. This one will just make him work for it. The dark water is frothing around his fetlocks, kissing his evergreen and pearl legs wantonly as he stares into soulless eyes. Their depths remind him of a time gone by - there had been one who had quivered at his majesty and subjected him to herself, not afraid of him but aware of what he is capable of. The longing for destruction and uncivility, but in the buckskin’s gaze, there is a glimmer of something else too. She is not one with the darkness like he is, but perhaps she is a friend.
He is still inspecting her, mildly curious at her little sour expression that riddles her slender face, pale lashes narrowing around the abysmal black of his eyes. There is sarcasm in her voice as it flows freely from charcoal lips, but Maugrim is unphased by her small act of defiance. She is childlike (though maybe on purpose - a way to draw others in) and though obviously bothered that he had interrupted ‘bathtime’, there is a sense of humor she is using to defend herself. A silver tongue, perhaps.
The nameless woman has asked him a question but he has long since forgotten to answer it. The dark and murky lake water is gentle in the way it holds her beautiful chin, turning her this way and that as his hungry eyes rove her head and neck. The rest of her body is still beneath the darkening depths, kept suspended there by his will alone. With a curious grunt, the spiral of water traces her jawline, whimsical and ethereal as it dances by itself down her golden cheek. Then there is sudden movement, and the string of water firmly wraps around her neck, just behind her jawbone. It tightens quickly, more water flowing from the lake to supply it with a larger girth, and more strength.
“Finding my next meal,” he answers with finality, his jaw clenching as the cold water begins to constrict her windpipe.
He is still inspecting her, mildly curious at her little sour expression that riddles her slender face, pale lashes narrowing around the abysmal black of his eyes. There is sarcasm in her voice as it flows freely from charcoal lips, but Maugrim is unphased by her small act of defiance. She is childlike (though maybe on purpose - a way to draw others in) and though obviously bothered that he had interrupted ‘bathtime’, there is a sense of humor she is using to defend herself. A silver tongue, perhaps.
The nameless woman has asked him a question but he has long since forgotten to answer it. The dark and murky lake water is gentle in the way it holds her beautiful chin, turning her this way and that as his hungry eyes rove her head and neck. The rest of her body is still beneath the darkening depths, kept suspended there by his will alone. With a curious grunt, the spiral of water traces her jawline, whimsical and ethereal as it dances by itself down her golden cheek. Then there is sudden movement, and the string of water firmly wraps around her neck, just behind her jawbone. It tightens quickly, more water flowing from the lake to supply it with a larger girth, and more strength.
“Finding my next meal,” he answers with finality, his jaw clenching as the cold water begins to constrict her windpipe.
m a u g r i m.
@[Jackel]