and lord, I fashion dark gods too;
She may live in discordance, in her cesspool of wanting and fearing, but to him, it’s such a lovely thing. It’s one of his favorite states, for them, and perhaps this is why she thinks him disturbingly kind, because she is presenting her most ideal self for his hungry gaze, and he is feasting upon it.
He only watches as the eyes appear on her face, a strange and terrible growth. His stomach stirs as she cries out, the blood dripping like tears down her face, a reversal of what had taken place all those decades ago, and for a moment he thinks he tastes her on his tongue, blood and something gelatinous, and then the sensation is gone.
He is still unmoving as she blinks, like a foal coming into the world. He wonders, briefly, what it’s like, to see again after so long in darkness.
It is nostalgia, maybe, or some distorted kind of fondness, and he smiles as she thanks him, a strange and terrible curve of the lip. It’s dangerous, that smile, too full of wicked things.
“You interest me,” is all he says, “and you’ll see me again.”
A final touch, one she can witness, and he cannot resist – his teeth rake against the nape of her neck, tasting only a few drops of blood on his tongue, a teaser of what will come, later.
“When you’re rid of…those,” he says through bloody lips, and, as if on cue, her stomach ripples, “I’ll find you.”
And with that he's gone, the only sound the last few drips of blood falling to the earth.
c a r n a g e