05-24-2021, 07:54 PM
CrownS
His magic has doled out little morsels of itself to him and held his hand when he wandered near the edge of this world and the next. It served as a safety net and always kept him anchored where it wanted him. But lately, now that his body has matured, it feels like the promise of safety is gone. Instead, his magic has become a claw gently tapping at his bedroom window. It ticks out little requests in timid morse code: Take. Take. Take.
But take what? He finds himself circling back to this question often.
And the answer comes clicking ou feverishly. Everything. All of it. Then more.
He has heard the voice of hunger and learned to speak in its native tongue. Crowns has mastered the art of always being ravenous, of always chasing satisfaction like his ancestors before him. So when Rosebay says she is the hungriest in the room, he only smiles and nods. They will see who is more empty in due time.
For now, his limbs twist and pop into talons. His spine pushes up from beneath his skin and splits it into a ridge of glistening scales. When Crowns moves, his shoulders bend the tree branches until they groan fearfully and snap. He becomes a terrible, hulking thing that reaches for the monsters before they can think to claw at him. He plunges ugly hands into their chests just to split them in two as if they were made from wet paper. They are beautiful, but they are disappointing to him. They die as quickly as a light flicks on.
And when he spits Rosebay’s poison into their eyes, they only howl in pain before crumpling to the ground and going still. His heart scarcely quickens at all.
“We need something sturdier. Something that will teach us to pronounce fear,” he says with his strange mouth and jagged teeth.
But take what? He finds himself circling back to this question often.
And the answer comes clicking ou feverishly. Everything. All of it. Then more.
He has heard the voice of hunger and learned to speak in its native tongue. Crowns has mastered the art of always being ravenous, of always chasing satisfaction like his ancestors before him. So when Rosebay says she is the hungriest in the room, he only smiles and nods. They will see who is more empty in due time.
For now, his limbs twist and pop into talons. His spine pushes up from beneath his skin and splits it into a ridge of glistening scales. When Crowns moves, his shoulders bend the tree branches until they groan fearfully and snap. He becomes a terrible, hulking thing that reaches for the monsters before they can think to claw at him. He plunges ugly hands into their chests just to split them in two as if they were made from wet paper. They are beautiful, but they are disappointing to him. They die as quickly as a light flicks on.
And when he spits Rosebay’s poison into their eyes, they only howl in pain before crumpling to the ground and going still. His heart scarcely quickens at all.
“We need something sturdier. Something that will teach us to pronounce fear,” he says with his strange mouth and jagged teeth.
you got me on my knees; i'm your one-man cult.
@[rosebay]