06-19-2018, 11:49 AM
god make me pay
like the devil i am
like the devil i am
It has been too long since the darkness of the placid lake had kissed the damp skin of a newcomer. Maugrim stands knee deep, the muddied bottom giving way beneath his weight and allowing his hooves to sink into the muck. He watches over her with hungry, lifeless eyes that rove her figure curiously, meticulously looking at each wound that traverses her body. She is battered and bruised, left bleeding in the darkness of the Sylvan forest, with his eyes on her.
Always on her.
Taking her had been easy, once the wolf had forced her into the water. Maugrim created deep water where they had once been shallows, swallowing her up with one fluid sweep of an ocean wave, cradling her in his grasp. The rivers and streams led them back to Sylva, where his lake awaited her presence, welcoming and hungry.
He is patient as he awaits for her to come to, his face near hers when the deep brown of her irises are revealed. He does not move at the sight of her awakening, but merely snorts softly before slowly raising his head. He towers over her, and she would find that if she tried to stand, the water would persuasively tell her to remain on her side. Her voice is immediately accusing, raking through the silence of the forest and causing Maugrim’s ears to fall flat into his neck. His lips curl into a semblance of a snarl, displeased with her voice. He hated when they talked and part of him briefly thought to stifle her vocal cords with water. He tosses his head, black eyes flickering down to her as he reminds himself that there is a bigger reason he had taken her (though he still cannot fathom any other reason than to kill). He champs angrily, the sound of blunt teeth clicking together in response to her demand for answers.
“Hush,” he commands, the water brewing with a threatening boil around her. Perhaps Crevan could interest her in a conversation; Maugrim could barely handle it right now, needing to focus merely on keeping her breathing and restraining himself from attacking her again.
Always on her.
Taking her had been easy, once the wolf had forced her into the water. Maugrim created deep water where they had once been shallows, swallowing her up with one fluid sweep of an ocean wave, cradling her in his grasp. The rivers and streams led them back to Sylva, where his lake awaited her presence, welcoming and hungry.
He is patient as he awaits for her to come to, his face near hers when the deep brown of her irises are revealed. He does not move at the sight of her awakening, but merely snorts softly before slowly raising his head. He towers over her, and she would find that if she tried to stand, the water would persuasively tell her to remain on her side. Her voice is immediately accusing, raking through the silence of the forest and causing Maugrim’s ears to fall flat into his neck. His lips curl into a semblance of a snarl, displeased with her voice. He hated when they talked and part of him briefly thought to stifle her vocal cords with water. He tosses his head, black eyes flickering down to her as he reminds himself that there is a bigger reason he had taken her (though he still cannot fathom any other reason than to kill). He champs angrily, the sound of blunt teeth clicking together in response to her demand for answers.
“Hush,” he commands, the water brewing with a threatening boil around her. Perhaps Crevan could interest her in a conversation; Maugrim could barely handle it right now, needing to focus merely on keeping her breathing and restraining himself from attacking her again.
m a u g r i m.
@[wound]