06-06-2018, 11:15 AM
god make me pay
like the devil i am
like the devil i am
He never had a mother (or he did, and fails to remember her in the slightest), and thus learned the ways of the world through his own discovery. The absence of family and a structure could very well be the reason he has turned out the way that he has - merciless, calculating, emotionless. His only true relationship - the only one that had been positive - had been with his ability and the water, creating a gap in his social ability that keeps him from building any sort of connection with anything or anyone. Of course, he had always been drawn to power and strength, which is why he finds himself here now in the deep and shadowed forest of Sylva, growing and brooding beneath the darkness that thrives here.
Death might be preferable.
He snorts softly in amusement; so many often begged for their lives, pleaded and bargained to keep their precious breath in their lungs. It was almost refreshing to hear the opposite - near stimulating, actually. It flips a switch, and though there is no malice in his voice (there hardly is ever, emotionless as the stallion is), there is a hum that vibrates in his throat at the idea.
“I could be of service, if that is truly what you desire.” His voice is smooth and sultry, beckoning and encouraging. Say yes, it croons in the undertones of his tenor.
Maugrim knows that his touch is unwarranted, for it hardly ever is welcomed on a woman’s skin. She is frigid and terse beneath the gentleness of his mouth, but that fact does not deter him. He is rather enjoying himself, and even if the coldness of fear tightens in her belly, he could not find it in him to decide that he cared.
I can’t change what I am.
“Perhaps,” he replies, finished with preening the soft cream of her feathers but still lingering, imagining all the ways she has been ravaged and mentally defeated long before he had arrived. “You will die eventually, then.” She must have already accepted her fate. Pity, he had hoped there was a tiny semblance of bravery remaining (something he could snuff out), but it seems someone has already broken that piece of her. “Soon, I should think.”
The evergreen and pearl stallion pauses, stepping back so that his eyes peer curiously into the depths of hers. “Not tonight, little bird. Not tonight.”
Death might be preferable.
He snorts softly in amusement; so many often begged for their lives, pleaded and bargained to keep their precious breath in their lungs. It was almost refreshing to hear the opposite - near stimulating, actually. It flips a switch, and though there is no malice in his voice (there hardly is ever, emotionless as the stallion is), there is a hum that vibrates in his throat at the idea.
“I could be of service, if that is truly what you desire.” His voice is smooth and sultry, beckoning and encouraging. Say yes, it croons in the undertones of his tenor.
Maugrim knows that his touch is unwarranted, for it hardly ever is welcomed on a woman’s skin. She is frigid and terse beneath the gentleness of his mouth, but that fact does not deter him. He is rather enjoying himself, and even if the coldness of fear tightens in her belly, he could not find it in him to decide that he cared.
I can’t change what I am.
“Perhaps,” he replies, finished with preening the soft cream of her feathers but still lingering, imagining all the ways she has been ravaged and mentally defeated long before he had arrived. “You will die eventually, then.” She must have already accepted her fate. Pity, he had hoped there was a tiny semblance of bravery remaining (something he could snuff out), but it seems someone has already broken that piece of her. “Soon, I should think.”
The evergreen and pearl stallion pauses, stepping back so that his eyes peer curiously into the depths of hers. “Not tonight, little bird. Not tonight.”
m a u g r i m.
@[Lepis]