12-24-2017, 12:22 PM
god make me pay
like the devil i am
like the devil i am
He follows her with a thrumming of mad delight, allowing her breath only when it suited his fancy, watching her writhe helplessly as he basically controls her and maneuvers her with the steady and fierce current he wields. She did not escape his grasp (he had been careful not to let her have too much control of her swimming - he had learned his mistake a few victims back) and he wonders if she wishes she hadn’t asked him to do something.
The scaled woman on the shore is a distant memory - queen or not, he didn’t care - and he doubted she would come searching for his prize. She is his now - his plaything to add to his collection.
Though, lucky for her, there is someone new in his life that keeps him from drowning her instantly as they come into the Ischian shores. Normally, he’d pull her into the shallows, where if she could just get her head above the water she would be fine, but he would refuse the movement and she would stutter into nothingness in just a few inches of water. But Deathwish would be displeased - at least, because she didn’t get a chance to reverse the process first - and he is excited to bring his captive onto the white, glistening shores.
As the deep waters of Ischia begin to turn into corals and rock and sand, his grip lessens - even now, Vessel is too weak and tired to fight even the gentleness of touches he creates with the water. He watches her fall limp and his body shudders with delight - he could let her fall to the waves, tumble into the sharp corals with the weight of her unconscious body, and die amongst blood and exposed bone and salt.
But she is not to die - not yet.
He allows Ischia’s natural push and pull to bring her into the shallows of the crystal clear water, generous enough that he did not allow the crashing waves to splice her into pieces among the coral. He will have to remind her of his mercy when she awakens. Her body is dehydrated from the lack of freshwater and the amount of salt soaked into her flesh, and a few of the corals seemed to have scrapped her legs and the delicate flesh of her underbelly as she lies in the soft tide, breathing steadily on the white sand.
She is alone, but only because he still dabbles in the waves, pacing back and forth like an animal before it launches onto its prey.
Finally he submerges, breaking from the water with a loud splash and a whirl of sea spray, materializing before Vessel in a heap of evergreen and pearlescent muscle, his sides heaving not from exertion, but from keeping himself from her, from holding himself back. The blood trickles into the water and it causes his eyes to roll and his pale nostrils to flare wildly, his salt-strewn tongue licking at his cracked lips.
“Wake up,” he says gruffly, displeased at her silence for too long, and shoves her neck with a muscled leg.
The scaled woman on the shore is a distant memory - queen or not, he didn’t care - and he doubted she would come searching for his prize. She is his now - his plaything to add to his collection.
Though, lucky for her, there is someone new in his life that keeps him from drowning her instantly as they come into the Ischian shores. Normally, he’d pull her into the shallows, where if she could just get her head above the water she would be fine, but he would refuse the movement and she would stutter into nothingness in just a few inches of water. But Deathwish would be displeased - at least, because she didn’t get a chance to reverse the process first - and he is excited to bring his captive onto the white, glistening shores.
As the deep waters of Ischia begin to turn into corals and rock and sand, his grip lessens - even now, Vessel is too weak and tired to fight even the gentleness of touches he creates with the water. He watches her fall limp and his body shudders with delight - he could let her fall to the waves, tumble into the sharp corals with the weight of her unconscious body, and die amongst blood and exposed bone and salt.
But she is not to die - not yet.
He allows Ischia’s natural push and pull to bring her into the shallows of the crystal clear water, generous enough that he did not allow the crashing waves to splice her into pieces among the coral. He will have to remind her of his mercy when she awakens. Her body is dehydrated from the lack of freshwater and the amount of salt soaked into her flesh, and a few of the corals seemed to have scrapped her legs and the delicate flesh of her underbelly as she lies in the soft tide, breathing steadily on the white sand.
She is alone, but only because he still dabbles in the waves, pacing back and forth like an animal before it launches onto its prey.
Finally he submerges, breaking from the water with a loud splash and a whirl of sea spray, materializing before Vessel in a heap of evergreen and pearlescent muscle, his sides heaving not from exertion, but from keeping himself from her, from holding himself back. The blood trickles into the water and it causes his eyes to roll and his pale nostrils to flare wildly, his salt-strewn tongue licking at his cracked lips.
“Wake up,” he says gruffly, displeased at her silence for too long, and shoves her neck with a muscled leg.
m a u g r i m.
@[Vessel]
Bascially she's stuck on the island because Maugrim will always be in the water to grab (ahem, try to kill) her if she tries to leave. DW will probably join in soon once they have a proper conversation XD