06-13-2018, 08:35 AM
god make me pay
like the devil i am
like the devil i am
In the swathing and comfortable darkness of her cavern, the black beast shifts closer to him, the sound of her breath in her throat captivating him. He continues to allow the bottomless color of his eyes to shift over the corpses and bones, the sickening sweet smell of death and rotted flesh not at all preturbing him. He remains poised and without relaxation, however, feeling incredibly small and somewhat helpless in her presence - the fact that his flesh has not been ripped from his bones are merely a miracle of her own doing. Something about him - something that comes naturally to him - keeps her interest piqued, allowing him to sustain breath in his lungs.
Maugrim has never been one for many words. As a child, he had grown solitarily and angry, chasing away any real opportunities for friendship and socializing. He had been viewed as strange and terrifying (rightly so) when he had taken to murdering small animals and flooding obscure areas of the meadow and playground, misunderstood in his awkward silences and brooding, disturbing eyes. Only recently (the bond of the kingdom, perhaps, or merely maturity) had the pearl and evergreen stallion truly allowed his thoughts to be expressed, learning from others in the way that they spoke to one another and mimicking their social cues in attempts to ‘blend in’. It worked, and many victims had fallen into the trickery that has become his feigned charm, which is the only reason he continues to practice it. He is able to move through the ranks and to receive orders that are what he truly desires (taking them, making them his, destroying them), with the power of a kingdom behind him.
But with her, there is no need to pretend, no need to flourish with pretty words or assimilate into the hierarchy of what a kingdom truly is. There is only nature and instincts, purely primal and animalistic. Nexu shifted closer to him (he can feel her presence swaying beside him like a living, breathing shadow) and her mouths find the musculature of his damp shoulder once more. He is frozen beneath her power, buzzing with electricity at the idea of the unknown, the sound of her guttural purrs suddenly giving him the ability to move. Maugrim shifts his weight into the coldness of her armored lips, his own nostrils flaring as the sound of a deep and throaty nicker reverberates in his throat as a reply.
He turns towards her slowly, the splashed lavender and algae-green of his neck curving to view her with gleaming black eyes; yet, she is already moving. She circles him and Maugrim straightens, then turns his neck to the opposite side that she now grazes herself against. This time his face meets hers, the blinking blackness of his eyes meeting the cunning irises of her own, his skin twitching fervently. He reaches towards her slowly and deliberately, soft huffs of air leaving the pearlescence of his mouth as he returns her previous gesture, his velveteen muzzle making the briefest of contact against the black and shining armor of her neck. His ears flick cautiously, listening for sounds of displeasure or of encouragement from her, all the more curious with each passing second.
Maugrim has never been one for many words. As a child, he had grown solitarily and angry, chasing away any real opportunities for friendship and socializing. He had been viewed as strange and terrifying (rightly so) when he had taken to murdering small animals and flooding obscure areas of the meadow and playground, misunderstood in his awkward silences and brooding, disturbing eyes. Only recently (the bond of the kingdom, perhaps, or merely maturity) had the pearl and evergreen stallion truly allowed his thoughts to be expressed, learning from others in the way that they spoke to one another and mimicking their social cues in attempts to ‘blend in’. It worked, and many victims had fallen into the trickery that has become his feigned charm, which is the only reason he continues to practice it. He is able to move through the ranks and to receive orders that are what he truly desires (taking them, making them his, destroying them), with the power of a kingdom behind him.
But with her, there is no need to pretend, no need to flourish with pretty words or assimilate into the hierarchy of what a kingdom truly is. There is only nature and instincts, purely primal and animalistic. Nexu shifted closer to him (he can feel her presence swaying beside him like a living, breathing shadow) and her mouths find the musculature of his damp shoulder once more. He is frozen beneath her power, buzzing with electricity at the idea of the unknown, the sound of her guttural purrs suddenly giving him the ability to move. Maugrim shifts his weight into the coldness of her armored lips, his own nostrils flaring as the sound of a deep and throaty nicker reverberates in his throat as a reply.
He turns towards her slowly, the splashed lavender and algae-green of his neck curving to view her with gleaming black eyes; yet, she is already moving. She circles him and Maugrim straightens, then turns his neck to the opposite side that she now grazes herself against. This time his face meets hers, the blinking blackness of his eyes meeting the cunning irises of her own, his skin twitching fervently. He reaches towards her slowly and deliberately, soft huffs of air leaving the pearlescence of his mouth as he returns her previous gesture, his velveteen muzzle making the briefest of contact against the black and shining armor of her neck. His ears flick cautiously, listening for sounds of displeasure or of encouragement from her, all the more curious with each passing second.
m a u g r i m.
@[Nexu]
