12-24-2017, 12:08 PM
god make me pay
like the devil i am
like the devil i am
She wouldn’t feel bad for him, if she knew what he’s done - what he plans on doing.
As they slow to a stop, to float eerily at the bottom of the dark abyss with specks of silt and dust showering around them as his current settles, he notices her wings - the beautiful, infatuating wings - are gone. He frowns with displeasure, already missing their greatness, and with a certain solemnity that is incredibly foreboding, the stallion grips tight his watery abilities and attempts to reattach the ethereal beauties to her withers, though the shape he creates is nothing like what she had before.
He had not wanted to make them disappear.
As he fumbles in his attempts, his face becomes clearer and more solidified, especially the pearlescent splashes of his coat. She mentions home and he freezes, his dark eyes locking on hers. Home? He snorts with amusement (though being underwater it only came out as a few bubbles from his dark green nostrils), his brow furrowing. He has no home - his home is wherever he decides to make it, whether it be in the ocean between Ischia and the river, or beneath the rocky crags of Nerine. In the ocean, he is king and all of it belongs to him.
All of it.
All of them.
He’s given up on trying to recreate her wings, frustrated that he cannot create something so beautiful with his own abilities. A curl of his lips in a snarl show his displeasure, and he focuses his attention on telling the water to move him towards her, their stillness now inviting a myriad of deep sea creatures to come out of hiding as tiny squid flit past them, their translucent bodies barely visible in the murky blackness.
“I have many homes,” he says to her, coming towards her so that his chest is nearly pressed to hers, wondering if she’ll bring those beautiful wings back to try to escape the closeness, or if she will allow it. “This is one of many. Much more beautiful than anything on land.”
A pause, stretching and yawning like the deep stillness of the ocean’s floor.
“Have you been this far before?”
He’s interested, truly. She’s young - just a guppy - and he doubts she had ever even thought to be out this far, this terribly deep. The water-equines that are strewn throughout Beqanna are a weakness of his - he is enthralled by their abilities and partly feels as if they are the same as him. He remembers the jelly-fish woman with stinging tentacles - he had taken her into the deep as well, and then vanished. He remembers a water-winged girl from when he was a colt, and she had vanished into the yawning abyss as well. The ocean takes back what she gives, or perhaps Maugrim had something to do with their disappearances.
He blinks slowly at her.
As they slow to a stop, to float eerily at the bottom of the dark abyss with specks of silt and dust showering around them as his current settles, he notices her wings - the beautiful, infatuating wings - are gone. He frowns with displeasure, already missing their greatness, and with a certain solemnity that is incredibly foreboding, the stallion grips tight his watery abilities and attempts to reattach the ethereal beauties to her withers, though the shape he creates is nothing like what she had before.
He had not wanted to make them disappear.
As he fumbles in his attempts, his face becomes clearer and more solidified, especially the pearlescent splashes of his coat. She mentions home and he freezes, his dark eyes locking on hers. Home? He snorts with amusement (though being underwater it only came out as a few bubbles from his dark green nostrils), his brow furrowing. He has no home - his home is wherever he decides to make it, whether it be in the ocean between Ischia and the river, or beneath the rocky crags of Nerine. In the ocean, he is king and all of it belongs to him.
All of it.
All of them.
He’s given up on trying to recreate her wings, frustrated that he cannot create something so beautiful with his own abilities. A curl of his lips in a snarl show his displeasure, and he focuses his attention on telling the water to move him towards her, their stillness now inviting a myriad of deep sea creatures to come out of hiding as tiny squid flit past them, their translucent bodies barely visible in the murky blackness.
“I have many homes,” he says to her, coming towards her so that his chest is nearly pressed to hers, wondering if she’ll bring those beautiful wings back to try to escape the closeness, or if she will allow it. “This is one of many. Much more beautiful than anything on land.”
A pause, stretching and yawning like the deep stillness of the ocean’s floor.
“Have you been this far before?”
He’s interested, truly. She’s young - just a guppy - and he doubts she had ever even thought to be out this far, this terribly deep. The water-equines that are strewn throughout Beqanna are a weakness of his - he is enthralled by their abilities and partly feels as if they are the same as him. He remembers the jelly-fish woman with stinging tentacles - he had taken her into the deep as well, and then vanished. He remembers a water-winged girl from when he was a colt, and she had vanished into the yawning abyss as well. The ocean takes back what she gives, or perhaps Maugrim had something to do with their disappearances.
He blinks slowly at her.
m a u g r i m.
@[Nyxa]