07-08-2015, 11:48 AM
what turns up in the dark
There is a history in its bones, and it doesn’t even know.
Its sire – Her mentor – was a magic woman, of the same night-magic as Her. Machine second in the line of strange priestesses, and she had been the one to meet Carnage in the desolate place of his wasteland. She had been the one to fight him, to match him. Even as dawn came, as she waned. And then an eclipse had come, a night made fresh, and she had killed him (for a time, of course, but it had been the longest time, and when he walked again he walked as bones, a skeleton king).
Cthylla (its Her, its queen, its master) knows this story, knows it well, but has not imparted it onto her pet, for she had no need. She does not think it particularly bright, but rather, as a guard dog – a companion with sharp teeth and claws.
It might have understood the story and it might not have. Sometimes it thinks it is getting smarter – sometimes their mushy speech can be formed by its strange protruding maw, sometimes it feels like concepts are there, winking in and out of its blurred thoughts.
Not Hurt the she-meat says, and it knows those words. It knows hurt - sounds like hunt, its favorite word. Is the she-meat speaking to it or of herself?
It wants to hunt but it is no longer sure if the she-meat is meat, there is more talking and the she-meat looks it in the eyes and it does not know.
(It would know if She were here, She would tell it yes, hunt or no, don’t hunt, but She is not here and it is forced to figure these things out on its own with its aching hollowed belly and stupid mushy words.)
The she-meat surprises it by trying to make a noise. It’s a stupid noise, but it can see she is trying to imitate its trill. Nothing had tried that. She can speak to it, of course, because She is magical and strange and can speak in its head, make it understand.
It doesn’t know humor, and wonders why the corners of its maw try to pull back.
The she-meat is strange and it makes its head hurt trying to figure it out.
“Muh…” it begins, “eeat?”
It does not know if the meats identify as meat. It has never cared before. Meat has always been a mass, all the same, scattered across waiting to be hunted.
CTHULHU
reference here
(imagining their entire interaction in my head cracks me up im not gonna lie)